Read The Almighty Dominance Novel (Alexander Leonhart and Sophia Lancaster) by Sunshine Updated 2025 -26 - The Almighty Dominance Chapter 416

“Shut your mouth! You’re just an old servant-don’t speak about things you don’t understand!” Jessica’s voice exploded through the room.

Her eyes burned with fury as she pointed toward the door. “Go! Call doctor Harris. He should be in the dining room!”

The servant bolted without hesitation.

“Damn it!” Alfred slammed his fist into the table, veins bulging on his forehead.

“She can’t die! She still has to marry Logan. She still has to secure Vancouver!” His rage poured out like fire.

Everything he built, everything he planned-gone in an instant. It felt like the entire world was mocking him, daring to block his rise.

He wanted control. He had to win against the King, no matter the cost.

Jessica’s face twisted with panic.

“Damn you, Alfred! You knew she was fragile, yet you struck her with the strength of a man trained in martial arts! She’s your daughter, not an enemy! Who will control Vancouver now? What are we supposed to tell Logan?”

Alfred’s chest heaved with rage, spittle flying as he shouted back.

“This is her fault! She dared to insult me-her own father! She said I was lower than a dog. She deserved this! She was supposed to obey, to say ‘yes’ to every word I spoke. Since when did she think she had the right to rebel?”

Jessica’s eyes narrowed. “Of course since she met Alex. I’ve known it for a long time. Ever since then, she’s changed.”

“She no longer listens to us. She fought her own brother. She lost all respect for this family. We should have crushed her defiance from the start.”

Her gaze fell to Jasmine’s still body on the floor. “What if she’s already dead?”

Alfred clutched his head with both hands. “We are not losing Vancouver. I’ll have Kelly impersonate Jasmine. She’ll take her place and keep control of Vancouver for us.”

Jessica’s lips curved into a cold smirk. “Good. If Jasmine lives, she’ll only betray us. Better she stays gone.”

At that moment, the doctor rushed in with two nurses.

They dropped to their knees beside Jasmine, working frantically. The doctor pressed his fingers to her neck, his expression draining of all color.

He looked up, his face grave.

The old servant’s voice cracked, tears streaming down his wrinkled cheeks. “Doctor… is she dead?”

“I need to check thoroughly,” the doctor said firmly, pulling equipment from his case with steady, practiced hands.

He flicked on a small penlight and pulled open Jasmine’s eyelids.

The beam cut across her pupils. If there was life, her eyes would react. If not, the darkness would remain.

The light reflected off glassy eyes. The doctor’s breath caught. He snapped into action, his voice sharp, commanding.

“She’s alive but not breathing. Possible high cervical spinal cord injury-C1 to C3. That would paralyze her diaphragm and stop her breathing. Prepare bag-valve- mask ventilation. Now!”

The nurses scrambled, snatching up the equipment. One fitted the mask over Jasmine’s face while the other began pumping oxygen into her lungs.

“How long has she been like this?” the doctor barked, his voice laced with panic.

“If it’s been more than six minutes, brain death may already have set in. Irreversible damage-permanent!”

Alfred and Jessica locked eyes, both lost in the weight of the moment. Neither spoke.

“Five… maybe six minutes,” the old servant stammered, voice trembling.

“Then start praying we can still save her,” Doctor Harris snapped, already working fast.

The nurses kept pumping oxygen into Jasmine’s lungs, their hands moving in rhythm. A neck brace was fitted. A head immobilizer clamped down to keep her spine steady.

“We need to get her to a hospital now,” Harris said firmly. “We don’t have enough equipment here.”

“No.” Alfred’s voice cut through like steel.

“Sir,” Harris pressed, his tone rising with urgency, “Jasmine’s neck is broken. If she survives, she may already be paralyzed from the neck down. She needs a ventilator-machines to keep her alive. She’s in critical condition. We have only a small window to act.”

Jessica leaned in. “Doctor Harris, we’ve trusted you for decades as our family doctor. This house has everything we need. Just do your best here.”

“My best?” Harris snapped, his patience thinning.

“My best requires Los Angeles Prime. They have full trauma facilities, the equipment, the staff. If we wait any longer, we may lose her completely.” “Enough!” Alfred’s roar thundered through the room.

He slammed his fist into the wall. “I told you to treat her here. You’ll treat her here. She’s my daughter. I decide where she gets treated. Stop talking and do your damn job!”

Doctor Harris froze. He’d been with the Kingston family for forty years, through every birth, every sickness, every fracture.

He’d watched Jasmine grow from a tiny infant into the young woman lying broken before him.

Now, looking at her bruised face and the fresh mark across her cheek, the truth screamed in his mind. Something was wrong. Something dark.

The Alfred he once knew-the father who cherished his daughter-was gone.

Harris drew in a heavy breath. “Fine,” he said coldly. “Get the scoop stretcher. Move her to her room. Bring every piece of medical equipment we have.”

“Yes, Doctor!” the nurses responded, moving fast.

For the next two hours, Harris worked relentlessly, sweat running down his temple, his hands trembling only when no one was looking.

He did everything he could, improvising with limited tools, fighting against time itself.

He managed to keep Jasmine barely alive-her breaths shallow, her body limp. But he knew it wasn’t enough. Not here. Not with these constraints.

Exhausted, Harris sat back for a moment.

Then he remembered Alex. The boy who had once healed Jasmine when no one else could. They had exchanged numbers back then. His last card to play.

His fingers shook as he typed:

“Jasmine is in critical condition. Neck broken. Paralyzed. Please come if you have time.”

Seconds later, a reply flashed back.

“Send me her location.”

Harris didn’t hesitate. He dropped a pin and hit send.

Another message followed almost instantly:

“Thanks. Delete this conversation. Do not enter the room for the next hour.”

Harris stared at the screen, his chest heavy.

He knew what that meant. He deleted the thread without another word, then slipped his phone back into his coat.

The house was silent except for the hiss of oxygen and the faint sound of Jasmine’s shallow breaths.

Somewhere deep down, Harris prayed Alex would arrive before it was too late.

One of the guards entered the room, his voice stiff with formality. “Master Alfred is asking for you, Doctor Harris. He’s waiting in the study.”

Harris straightened his coat and walked to the study.

Inside, Alfred was seated behind his desk, his expression dark, his fingers drumming on the polished wood.

“How is Jasmine?” Alfred asked. Original content can be found at ⓝovelFind.net

“She’s barely alive right now. But, sir… she’s permanently paralyzed from the

neck down. Even breathing requires a machine to keep her alive.”

“So you’re saying she can’t perform her duties as governor anymore?”

“Very difficult, sir. Almost impossible.”

“Tell me, Doctor,” he said in a low, steady voice. “Is it possible… to change someone’s face? A full reconstruction. Plastic surgery.”

Meanwhile, Alex slipped silently through Jasmine’s window. His boots landed on

the carpet without a sound.

He moved quickly to her side. Jasmine’s eyes fluttered open, tears streaking down her pale face.

“Why are you crying?” Alex asked softly.

Without waiting for an answer, he pulled a small pill from his pocket, pressed it

past her lips, and held her head gently until she swallowed.

The pill dissolved instantly, turning into a warm liquid that spread through her

body.

Alex’s hands moved with precision. He adjusted the ventilator, eased some of the machines aside, and pressed his palm to her neck.

Closing his eyes, he channeled his inner force, holding her shattered bones in

place while the pill worked its miracle.

Jasmine’s lips trembled, her voice so faint it was almost air. “Alex… what is

family?”

He paused. The question cut him deeper than he expected.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, he grew up in an orphanage.

Tears welled again in her eyes.

“Back when we were in Vancouver-the poorest state-we had nothing. But we had happiness. We lived for each other, we kept that happiness alive in our family. Now…” s

Jasmine’s voice cracked, “…I still want that happiness for everyone. But my father chases power. My mother chases wealth. Charles only wants his name to rise if we all walk name, to rise if we

differths, can

we still call it family?”

s

Alex brushed the tears from her cheek with his finger. “Don’t think too much. Rest.”

But Jasmine shook her head weakly, her words spilling out in a broken whisper.

“Alex… my parents want me dead. What should I do? Should I die so they can be happy? Or should kill innocent people to satisfy their hunger for power and wealth?” s

“I don’t know anymore… why am I still alive? Maybe it would be better if I were

gone.”

Her sobs turned into shallow breaths. Alex touched her forehead gently, and her

eyes closed, slipping into a deep sleep.

Alex rose slowly, his expression hard

“Alfred Kingston, I have given you chance after chance. But now it seems your

call is for death.”