The Almighty Dominance novel Chapter 551

The palace hall fell silent as Duke Christoph played the live feed.

On the massive screen, Alex’s aircraft was swallowed by blinding white light. The light bomb detonated. The image shook violently, then dissolved into static and fire. Nothing remained. No wreckage. No escape.

The King stared at the screen, his face draining of color. Sofina felt the blood leave her lips. Her fingers clenched without her noticing.

Duke Christoph turned, already smiling.

“Your Majesty,” he said smoothly, “the last heir of Saint-Claire is confirmed dead. The obstacle is gone. I request that you revoke Princess Sofina’s five-year promise. With that condition removed, she may be married at once—to a man of your choosing.”

He did not hide his intent. Everyone in the hall knew whose son he meant.

The King did not answer immediately. He turned to Sofina.

“Sofina,” he asked quietly, “what do you think?”

She lifted her head. Her eyes were steady, though her chest felt tight.

“Father,” she said, “you are the King. You gave me a five-year promise. I intend to hold you to it. I will discuss marriage only after those five years have passed.”

Duke Christoph stepped forward at once.

“Your Majesty, this is a waste of time,” he said coldly. “The outcome is already decided. Alex is dead. A dead man cannot marry Princess Sofina.”

“Father,” Sofina said, turning back to the King, her voice steady but burning with resolve, “I still believe Alex is alive. Until I see his body with my own eyes—until there is undeniable proof—I will not abandon this promise.”

She lifted her chin, eyes unwavering.

“You gave me your word. And I intend to hold you to it.”

The King fell silent.

His fingers drummed slowly against the armrest of the throne, each tap heavy with thought.

The hall seemed to hold its breath.

At last, he spoke.

“Duke Christoph,” he said, his tone firm, “I gave my word to Princess Sofina. The agreement stands. Five years.”

“But Your Majesty—” the duke pressed on, his voice tight with frustration. “How am I supposed to prove Alex is dead? A light bomb leaves nothing behind. No wreckage. No remains.”

“And because nothing was left behind,” Sofina shot back instantly, “that is exactly why it’s possible he survived.”

“That’s impossible,” the duke snapped, his patience finally breaking.

“Enough,” the King cut in coldly. “This audience is over. All of you may leave. I need to rest. Sofina, take me to my room.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Duke Christoph replied stiffly.

He bowed and turned away. The moment he stepped out of the hall, his expression twisted with rage.

“How dare that bastard ruin my plan,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

The hall emptied. Only the King and Sofina remained, their footsteps echoing as they walked through the long corridor.

“Come with me,” the King said quietly. “To my study. There is something you need to know.”

Inside the grand study, the King sat behind his desk. He tapped his fingers against the surface, slow and deliberate, weighing how much truth to reveal.

“Sofina,” he began, his voice low, “in politics, there are no eternal enemies—and no eternal friends.”

She listened without interrupting.

“Duke Christoph was my ally when I fought for the throne,” the King continued. “But once I won it, he became something else. Again and again, he tried to control me. To bend my rule to serve his ambition.”

The King leaned back slightly, eyes dark with memory.

“A hero rides a horse to reach his goal,” he said. “But once the goal is reached, he finds himself sitting on a tiger. From that moment on, every day becomes a fight. Because the tiger is always trying to devour him.”

He looked straight at Sofina.

“Do you understand what that means?”

“Yes, Father,” Sofina said.

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