Read The Almighty Dominance Novel (Alexander Leonhart and Sophia Lancaster) by Sunshine Updated 2025 -26 - The Almighty Dominance Chapter 551

The Almighty Dominance Chapter 551

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

On the massive screen, Alex’s aircraft was swallowed by a blinding white flash. The light bomb detonated. The image shook violently, then collapsed into static and fire. Nothing remained—no wreckage, no sign of escape.

The King stared at the screen, the color draining from his face. Sofina felt the blood leave her lips. Her fingers curled tightly, though she didn’t realize it.

Duke Christoph turned, already smiling.

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

He made no effort to hide his intent. Everyone in the hall knew whose son he meant.

The King did not respond at once. Instead, 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 immediately.

“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 calm 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, her gaze unwavering.

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

The King fell silent.

His fingers tapped slowly against the armrest of the throne, each sound heavy with thought.

The hall seemed to hold its breath.

At last, he spoke.

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

“But Your Majesty—” the duke pressed, 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 precisely why it’s possible he survived.”

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

“Enough,” the King said 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 down 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 secured it, he became something else. Again and again, he tried to control me. To bend my rule to serve his ambition.”

He leaned back slightly, his 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.

Her voice was obedient, but her face was pale, drained of color. The sadness in her eyes was impossible to hide.

The King studied her for a moment, then smiled—a calm, knowing smile that never reached his eyes.

“Don’t look so mournful,” he said lightly. “Your man isn’t dead yet.”

Sofina froze.

“Really?” she asked, hope and disbelief colliding in her voice. “How do you know?”

Wilhelm Augustus laughed, deep and confident, as if the answer were self-evident.

“I am the King of Prussia,” he said proudly. “The smartest man in this country. Do you truly think something happens in Prussia without my knowledge?”

He leaned forward slightly and fixed his gaze on her.

“I know far more about Alex than you ever have.”

Sofina frowned, confusion flickering across her face.

“Alex,” Wilhelm continued slowly, “is not from Xia. He is from Estoria.”

Her eyes widened.

“What?” she blurted out. “But Estoria is the poorest place in the world—a land criminals flee to when they have nowhere else to go.”

The King nodded calmly.

“Exactly,” he said. “Which makes him the king of the poorest—and most criminal—nation.”

“The king?” Sofina repeated, stunned.

“He is the King of Estoria,” Wilhelm said flatly.

He stood and walked toward the window, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Four years ago,” he went on, “I detected every Estorian spy operating inside Prussia. They hid under the name Kingswell. Their only objective was to find a route to the Earth Empire, bypassing our borders.”

He scoffed softly.

“They were insignificant. I didn’t bother dealing with them personally. I simply instructed our Mother AI to monitor them.”

Wilhelm turned back to Sofina.

“Then, three years ago, he appeared under the identity of Marquis Saint-Claire’s heir. He knew that to reach the Earth Empire, he needed legal passage—and that meant becoming a Prussian citizen.”

The King’s lips curled faintly.

“So he stayed. Three full years. Patient. Calculating. Because he understood it was impossible to reach the Earth Empire without our approval.”

“That man,” Wilhelm said, his tone dark with memory, “learned like a sponge. He absorbed everything. He devoured our knowledge and shamelessly stole it—sending it all back to Estoria.”

“Then why didn’t you stop him?” Sofina asked, her voice trembling.

Wilhelm laughed again, cold and dismissive.

“Why should I?” he said. “Estoria is poor. Its people are stupid beyond belief. I need nothing from them. A few light bombs would be enough to wipe the entire country off the map.”

Sofina stiffened.

“But,” the King continued casually, “if that clever bastard could educate his people—make them even slightly useful—we could turn them into excellent slaves.”

He gestured lazily with one hand.

“A farmer lets fruit ripen before the harvest. Cutting it too early would be a waste.”

“Then… Father…” Sofina whispered, horror creeping into her voice. “You’re going to attack Estoria?”

“That is the plan,” Wilhelm replied calmly. “In the past, they were useless. Now they are intelligent—and that makes them perfect slaves. They believe they are preparing to attack us, without realizing we have had them in our sights for a very long time.”

He smiled faintly.

“They think they are clever,” he said coldly. “But we are cleverer.”

Disaster is born of pride, and good fortune of humility.