Read The Almighty Dominance Novel (Alexander Leonhart and Sophia Lancaster) by Sunshine Updated 2025 -26 - The Almighty Dominance Chapter 420

Prime Hospital, Los Angeles.

Charles Kingston pushed through the glass doors with the kind of stride that said the world still bent for him.

Behind him, his girlfriend limped pitifully, her face twisted with pain—yet all she carried was a single scratch on her arm.

A long line snaked past the reception desk.

Charles didn’t join it. He cut in front of the nearest man without a second thought.

“Hey,” the man protested. Charles kept walking.

At the desk Charles leaned in, voice sharp as a knife. “Nurse. Get me the best doctor you have. Now.”

The receptionist, a young woman—already irritated from seeing them cut the line -glanced once at the woman clinging desperately to Charles.

Her arm bore nothing more than a shallow scratch, blood already dried into thin red lines. Yet the woman sobbed like her life was slipping away.

Even a five-year-old wouldn’t cry this hard over something so small, the nurse thought. But the woman pressed harder into Charles, wailing:

“Darling, what’s happening to me? Am I going to die? I don’t want to die-please, please help me.”

The nurse’s patience snapped. Her tone was clipped, professional but sharp.

“The best doctor is in surgery. If you go to triage, a nurse can clean and dress it. Or you can cross the street and buy a bandage. You’ll be fine. And next time— don’t cut the line. Next.”

Charles slammed his palm on the counter until the wood rang. The reception area froze.

“You damn nurse,” he spat. “Don’t you know who I am? My girlfriend is bleeding. Call your best doctor, now.”

The nurse didn’t flinch. “Sir, I don’t care who you are. If you make trouble, I’ll call security and you’ll be asked to leave.”

Charles laughed, a cold, high sound. “You, a little nurse, threatening to call security on me?”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” he barked and hooked five fingers under the nurse’s collar and dragged him closer.

“Call the best doctor now,” Charles hissed. “Or you’ll regret it.”

A man behind Charles-the one he’d shoved out of line-stepped forward and clamped a firm hand on Charles’ shoulder.

“Leave the nurse alone,” he said, voice steady. “She already told you. Your woman just needs a bandage. Stop making a damn scene.”

Charles spun, rage burning in his eyes.

“Take your hand off me, bastard.” His face twisted into something wild, the kind of look that made normal men wonder if he was drunk, high, or just rotting with arrogance.

The stranger saw the madness burning in Charles’ eyes and chose not to push further. He lifted both hands in surrender.

“Whatever, man. But remember this arrogance brings loss. Humility brings gain.”

Charles sneered, lip curling like a whip. “Yeah? Save those words for the poor fools like you.”

Then he hauled the nurse forward. “Call the doctor. Now.”

“I can’t!” the nurse shouted, voice cracking. “Doctor Hendrick is in the OR. He’s in the middle of a procedure. I can’t—”

“Then pull him out!” Charles barked. “This is an emergency too!”

“I can’t!” the nurse repeated, helpless and steady all at once.

Charles lost it. The thin mask of barely-there politeness ripped away, and the fury beneath—always as fragile as tissue divided ten times over-shattered in an

instant.

He grabbed a fistful of the nurse’s long hair and slammed the young woman’s head against the counter.

Red spattered the reception wood. The nurse’s nose burst open and blood ran hot across her lip.

“When I tell you to call the doctor, you call him,” Charles roared. “Don’t make me wait, you asshole. Don’t make me decide if you live.”

“Enough.” The man on Charles back grabbed Charles’ shoulder hard, trying to stop the madness.

Charles spun and aimed a blow at him. “Back off, you little shit. You think you can touch me like anyone else? I am Charles Kingston!”

Man showed a shocked, “Oh, Charles Kingston… sorry. Thought you were just another asshole.”

Charles sneered. “So you finally know who I am?”

“A famous asshole,” the man shot back. “A bastard beyond help.”

Charles’ face went red. He leaned in, venom in his voice. “Don’t make me decide if you live.”

The man laughed, loud and ugly. “Oh, you’ll decide? Last time you played judge, the courthouse filed a restraining order against your ego.”

That broke something in Charles.

He didn’t argue.

He closed the distance and slammed his fist into the man’s nose.

Bone cracked, blood sprayed, and the man folded to the tile in a stunned heap. People in the queue closed in, faces sharp with fear and anger. “Hey-what the hell are you doing?” someone shouted. “This ain’t right. Stop it.”

“Stop now, or we take you down together,” another voice warned.

Charles laughed, a cold hard sound. “You gonna take me? You’ll regret the day you were born.”

He turned his head and barked, “Guards! What are you waiting for? Do you want me knocked down before you act? Break their noses. Do it.”

Four of Charles’ guards burst in, wheeling Kelly Kingston behind them, her legs mangled and bleeding.

They had chased after Charles when he bolted ahead with his girlfriend, leaving Kelly behind without a second thought.

Dragging her through the halls in a wheelchair, they fought to keep her alive.

But the moment her chair cleared the doorway, they found Charles already in the middle of a riot.

Shouts rose, chaos churned, and his orders cracked like whips.

The guards had no choice-they let Kelly go and dove into the crowd, plowing through bodies with brutal, practiced force, obeying Charles as always.

Chaos spilled across the reception. Shouts, scuffling feet, someone’s phone clattering to the floor.

Charles hauled the nurse up by her hair again, the young woman’s face streaked with blood.

“Call him,” Charles whispered, menace coiling through each word. “Call your best doctor now or I’ll smash your face again until you do.”

The nurse’s hands trembled, but she snatched the phone and dialed. Nᴇw ɴovel chaptᴇrs are published on find{n}ovel.net

“Code on reception,” the nurse said. “Doctor Hendrick – we need you at reception now. There’s an aggressive patient. Reception is compromised.”

Dr. Hendrick’s hands were buried in a man’s chest when the emergency call came

through. Blood slicked his gloves; the operating room smelled of antiseptic and

iron.

“I can’t come out now!” he barked at the wall speaker. “I’m opening a heart.”

“Doctor, please!” the nurse’s voice cracked over the speaker. “You have to get out here reception’s filling up. Ten people are bleeding. If you don’t come now, those people and I

could die out here.”

to’ s

Hendrick’s jaw clenched. “Don’t be dramatic,” he snapped, still working. “Handle it

until I’m done.”

The voice on the wall came back, urgent and trembling.

“Doctor Hendrick… if you don’t come here right now, I’m going to send the photos

of our affair to your wife.”

The scalpel hit the tray with a metallic clang. Hendrick’s face went hard.

“Damn that woman,” Hendrick muttered under his breath. He didn’t waste another word. “Hold the line. Close him up. I’ll be back.”

He tore off his gloves and strode out, nurses and assistants staring as he passed. Whispers rippled through the room-sharp, disbelieving.

So he really does have an affair.

Hendrick shoved the OR doors wide.

As he neared reception, the scene struck him like a gunfight-bodies scattered across the tile, blood smeared in dark streaks, voices shouting and moaning.

And there a woman in a wheelchair: Kelly Kingston. Both legs crushed, mangled beneath torn fabric, bone poking white through skin.

Hendrick dropped to one knee. “If we don’t operate now, you’ll lose both legs,” he said flatly.

He spun the chair toward the corridor. “Get her to the operating room. Urgent.”

He glanced at the other victims. They were battered, but breathing, still moaning. They’d live.

He started to push Kelly, but a hand slammed down on the chair handle. Charles Kingston blocked his path.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Charles demanded.

“Don’t stop me,” Hendrick snapped back. “Her condition is critical. Do you want her to lose her live?”

“I don’t fucking care!” Charles roared, yanking his girlfriend closer. “You treat my girlfriend first!”

Hendrick turned his eyes on the woman clinging to Charles. Her arms were scratched, dried blood crusting like rust. She was crying but breathing fine.

Doctor Hendrick looked back at Charles like he was insane. “I don’t have time to play with you,” he said coldly, and shoved the wheelchair forward again. Charles’ hand shot out and clamped down on the chair. “Do you want to die?” he hissed. “If I tell you to treat her first, you treat her first.”

Kelly stared at him through wet lashes, her heart breaking.

In that moment she couldn’t understand why she’d ever backed Charles, why she’d turned on Alex, every choice she’d made had

why

blood

led her here to this hell, with bløði on the floor and nothing left to trust.

s

The surgeon couldn’t take it anymore. He shoved his way free of the stretcher and slammed a fist into Charles’ nose. “Enough, you bastard. I’m treating her first.” Charles’ nose bled where the surgeon had hit him.

Rage flared in his eyes. “Guards—grab him. I want his hands. I want to see how

he lives without them.”

Four bodyguards moved like trained wolves. They seized the doctor while Charles ripped a knife from one of them and stalked forward, blade glinting. “You’re insane!” the doctor barked, blood on his lip and fear in his voice. “Put down that knife or I’ll call the police and you’ll be the one to pay for it.”

“I run this city,” Charles spat. “I do what I want — and you’ll always be the one paying, not me.” He lunged, the knife hissing through the air.

Then the hospital doors blew open.

A roar crashed through the lobby-hundreds, maybe thousands of people, spilling

in from the streets. They came hard, faces set, weapons raised.

“There there he is! Charles Kingston!” someone screamed.

“Kill that bastard!”

Charles froze. For a heartbeat the world narrowed: a tide of anger and makeshift

weapons sweeping toward him.

“Stop them!” he barked. “Hold them!”

Six guards hit the front line like battering rams, shoving and throwing bodies to break the first wave. It bought seconds-nothing more.

Charles bolted for the right-wing corridor, trying to put space between himself and the crowd. He’d taken only a dozen strides when the second surge hit. Hundreds poured through the side hall, a living river of fists and crude weapons. Knives flashed. Voices rose into one ugly chant.

“That’s the Kingstons-kill ’em all!” someone screamed.

Charles went pale. He spun, yanked Kelly’s wheelchair as she rolled by, and

dragged her into the center of the chaos.

Panic sharpened his voice into an order. “Kelly-protect me with your life!”

He shoved the chair into the crush like a man throwing up a shield, then bellowed, “She’s Kelly Kingston!”— his voice cutting through the roar.

For a heartbeat he stood over her, then turned and bolted, leaving the chair as

bait while the mob surged around it.

Man is wolf to man

Kelly saw flashes of memory-Alex once pulling her out of danger, fearless and

ready to do anything for her.

Now she belonged to a man who shoved her straight into the jaws of a raging

crowd.

Her shattered legs burned like splinters driven into bone. The wheelchair rattled

forward as if it had a will of its own, dragging her into the mob.

Faces twisted with fury closed in. The roar of the crowd swallowed her, and all she could do was grip. the armrests, heart pounding with

the certainty that death was waiting ahead. s

Her chest hurt.

Tears carved tracks down her face. “Forgive me, Alex… will you save me again?”

she whispered into the noise.

A man at the front of the mob swung a bat. It connected with the Kelly’s head and

the next moment Kelly toppled to the tile.

Someone’s boot drove into her ribs. The floor was hot under her cheek as the first

stomp fell, then another, then many.

People rained blows without mercy.