The Almighty Dominance novel Chapter 503

Alex smiled at Ragnar. “I have to admit. You’re really working hard to piss me off. Congratulations. The price just went up—three million for your arm. And your heart?”

He shrugged. “Five million. If you want to bargain, complain, or throw a tantrum, go ahead. I’ll keep raising the price until I walk away with your real arm and your real heart.”

“Alex,” Sofina called. “What are you even going to do with the money and the car if Ragnar pays?”

“Well,” Alex said, eyes softening when they met hers, “I’ll give them to you, of course.”

She bit her lip, worry tightening her voice. “If you’re really okay with that… Ragnar’s my classmate, my friend. I’m not taking anything from him.”

“Sure,” Alex said with a small smile. He already knew what she would do. Sofina couldn’t hurt anyone—not if she could avoid it.

She’d return the money and the car the moment she had the chance. That was just who she was. And for Alex, the amount itself was nothing—pocket change.

He didn’t need Ragnar’s money. He never did.

Finally, Alex turned back to Ragnar. “My wife says you two are friends. So if you’re really that broke—so broke you can’t scrape together eight million—I, a gentlemen and very rich man, am willing to look down on you with pity.:

“Admit you’re poor, and I’ll erase the entire bet. No payment. No debt. And you get to keep your car.”

Ragnar exhaled in pure relief. That was it—his arm, his heart, his money, his precious car—all saved.

Eight million dollars wasn’t just a lot of money—it was his entire savings.

If all he had to do was admit he was poor to save everything he owned, then hell yes, he’d do it.

Easy. Effortless. No hesitation.

His father might die of shame, might bankrupt the whole family for the sake of honor, but Ragnar?

Ragnar wasn’t built like that.

He bent with the wind.

But the crowd wasn’t quiet.

Whispers surged around him.

“Damn… Alex is such a gentleman. A rich guy refusing all that money? That’s class.”

“Meanwhile Ragnar—what a jerk. A broke coward. Alex tried to flex with the cash, but turns out Ragnar doesn’t even have any!”

“Yes! Alex is backing off because Ragnar’s a poor loser!”

Ragnar froze as the words hit him like slapped echoes, each one louder than the last.

The crowd’s vicious comments struck Ragnar like stones. Faces twisted with disgust.

People were looking down on him—laughing, booing, calling him a fraud. The entire stadium roared with humiliation.

Then his bracelet buzzed.

His father.

Ragnar’s stomach dropped. He didn’t even need to answer. He already knew the message: Pay. Or face something far worse.

Ragnar clenched his teeth so hard it hurt. He straightened his back, forced his voice to rise above the crowd.

“Who the hell says I’m a poor loser?” he snarled. “Eight million dollars is pocket change for me. And my car? I can buy the newest model tomorrow. I have twenty cars sitting in my garage. I’ll honor my bet—right here, right now—in front of all of you!”

A faint, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of Alex’s lips.

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