The Almighty Dominance novel Chapter 140

Summary for Chapter 140: The Almighty Dominance

Read The Almighty Dominance Chapter 140

Novel The Almighty Dominance has been updated Chapter 140 with many climactic developments. What makes this series so special is the names of the characters ^^. If you are a fan of the author Free Collection, you will love reading it! I'm sure you won't be disappointed when you read. Let's read the novel The Almighty Dominance Chapter 140 now HERE.

Reading Novel The Almighty Dominance Chapter 140

Chapter 140 novel The Almighty Dominance

Chapter 140

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“Why?”

*1 Just wondered because Kelly’s been gone too,” she said, her ton clipped.

An uneasy silence hung between them. Then she continued, “Anyway, Kelly just updated me about the Charles problem–my brother.”

“And?” Alex prompted.

“I need to handle this on my own- -no help from my father. It’s a kingston family issue, and if I don’t confront him directly, Charles will never respect me. Think of it as my final test before I can truly step into my role in Vancouver. Just promise you won’t say anything to my father.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, eyeing the empty shoreline where the helicopter had departed.

“I have to be. Besides, I know you’re close to my father, but let him stay out of it. If I fail, Lfail on my own terms.”

Alex exhaled. “Fine. I won’t tell him.”

Jasmilte hesitated. “I may still need your help. Can I call if things get rough?”

“I’ll help if I can,” he said, though his thoughts wandered to the chaos that could erupt if the new king used Kingswell’s resources to quash any opposition.

With the country already teetering, they couldn’t risk a civil war.

His watch buzzed again–Sophia calling. He clenched his jaw, muttering, “No rest for the wicked.”

“Where the hell have you been?” Sophia’s voice snapped through the speaker.

“You vanish for three days, phone off, no explanation. Were you off with some woman?”

He stifled an exasperated groan.

‘How is it that women always seem to activate their psychic senses at the worst moments?‘

“What do you want?” he asked, his tone sharper than intended.

She paused, clearly still fuming. “It’s my grandfather’s birthday celebration today. Are you coming or not? We’ve been waiting. And do you even have money for a gift? If not, say the word–I’ll send you some.”

Alex glanced around his private villa, his gaze settling on an exquisite bottle of vintage wine–a costly token he’d once received from a grateful patient.

“I have something suitable,” he replied.

“Don’t show up with some cheap knockoff,” Sophia bit out, then hung up without waiting for a response.

Before he could catch his breath, his watch lit up again: Lyra Thompson.

“Where have you been these past three days? You’re not answering your phone.”

“What do you want?” he said, annoyance flaring.

“I’m out of miracle pills,” Lyra explained calmly. “Do you have more? My clients are asking.”

“Yeah, I can get some to you,” Alex agreed. The need for money was growing urgent—he had too many goals to reach, and fast.

There was a pause before Lyra asked, “Alex?”

“Yes?”

“Did you sleep with any girls in the last three days?”

Alex sighed deeply, muttering under his breath, “Not again…”

That evening, Alex made his way to the Emerald Villa–a sprawling estate hidden behind ivy–covered walls and manicured grounds.

He found Sophia at the entrance, tapping her foot impatiently.

“We need to talk,” she said curtly.

He braced himself. “So talk.”

She lowered her voice, refusing to meet his gaze. “I haven’t told Granddad about our divorce. His health is fragile, and… I don’t want him to know yet.”

Alex studied her for a moment. “Alright. I’ll keep it quiet.”

“That’s it,” she muttered, casting Alex a look heavy with unspoker burdens.

She lingered there, torn between admitting her guilt over letting Megan smash the bucket of flowers and confronting him about her growing suspicion that his three–day disappearance might have involved another woman–a thought that only stoked her anger.

In the end, instinct trumped doubt.

Without another word, she spun on her heel in mounting frustration and disappeared inside.

‘Human always hurt the ones they love the most, because they expect them to heal the wounds they never caused.‘

Alex followed her, the unopened bottle of wine clutched in his hand like a peace offering he wasn’t sure anyone wanted.

He looked at Sophia’s back, once, they burned like twin flames.

Now, only embers remain, scattered by the wind.

The living room hummed with layered voices, and the scent of a catered feast mingled with an underlying tension unique to the Lancaster family.

Alex’s eyes landed on a new face–Marco Ashford–seated in what should have been his chair beside Sophia.

Across the room, Florence Lancaster’s scathing gaze locked on Alex.

“It’s quite rude to keep your elders waiting,” she snapped, each word dripping with disdain.

Her son, Jack, chipped in, brandishing a bandaged arm from their previous clash.

“Careful, Mom,” he drawled, feigning concern. “Wouldn’t want him injuring you next.”

A charged silence spread through the gathering, thick as fog, until Abraham Lancaster’s booming voice cut through with a genial warmth.

“All right, now that everyone’s finally here, let’s eat.” He beckoned Alex with a welcoming grin. “Come sit beside me, “Sure,” Alex replied, managing a polite smile as he helped the old man to his seat.

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kid.”

Across the table, Jack glowered, jealousy flaring in his narrowed eyes. “Kiss–ass,” he muttered, baffled at his grandfather’s fondness for someone outside the family bloodline.

Today’s

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Jack hoisted a lavishly decorated wine box for all to see.

“Granddad, check this out. Marco just dropped by with a Domaine de la Romanée Conti Grand Cru. We ought to crack it open and celebrate!”

Abraham leaned forward, eyebrows raised.

“La Romanée–Conti? That’s one of those outrageously pricey labels, isn’t it?”

“You bet,” Marco said with a self–satisfied grin.

“This baby’s a 2005 vintage, and it set me back a cool hundred grand.”

The room erupted with shocked gasps.

Even for the Lancaster clan, a $100,000 bottle of wine was the stuff of fairy tales.

Florence eyed Marco with a mix of surprise and pride. “Good heavens, Marco. That’s a bit excessive, don’t you think?”

Yet beneath her admonishing tone, she practically glowed.

After all, Marco was now the suitor she had her heart set on for her daughter.

Marco waved off the concern with a dismissive chuckle.

“A hundred grand is nothing. I’ve got another whole barrel of this at home. It’s my pleasure to share.”

The family descended on him with flattery.

“Mr. Ashford, you’re unbelievably generous!”

“What a wonderful treat for us!”

Marco’s chest puffed up with each compliment, until Florence finally turned her gaze on Alex.

She wasn’t about to miss an opportunity to take a jab and make him look bad.

“Hey, boy, why don’t you learn a thing or two from Marco, huh? Look at the fine wine he’s brought. I bet whatever you have came straight from the bargain bin. Don’t be such a tightwad!”

She punctuated her mockery with a swift kick to Jack’s shin.

Jack winced but forced a smile.

“Let’s see what Alex brought,” he said, voice dripping with anticipation.

With a flourish, he tore open Alex’s wine box, revealing a old bottle.

“Tch, would you look at that?” Jack snorted.

“I thought he might bring something remotely decent, but no. These labels are practically prehistoric–and not in a good way. I’d wager these sad little craft brews aren’t worth more than a couple hundred bucks.”

Some distant cousin–one of the Lancasters–let out a sneering laugh.

“Craft brews? Those lost whatever value they once had. We wouldn’t foist them off on our stable hands, let alone serve them to guests!”

“What a cheapskate!” Florence exclaimed, her lip curling in disdain.

“I hear these cheap wineries slap fake high–end labels on their bottles to fool people. Maybe Alex got duped into buying trash just so he could pretend to keep up.”

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Alex calin as ever shrugged. “How do you know they’re cheap or take when you’ve never even tasted them?” Jack rolled his eyes and scoffed, “You’re not seriously comparing your penny ante plonk to Marco’s six–figure wine, are you?” “Sometimes price isn’t everything,” Alex answered. “And you have no chte what these bottles actually cost.”

“Are you still yapping?” Jack said with a spiteful grin. “Face it: you re too broke to pay attention, yet here you are, trying to save your sorry pride.”

Florence leaned back, arms crossed. “He’s nothing but a stubborn fool,” she spat.

Alex just sighed. “No point explaining good wine to those who won’t taste it with an open mind.”

Abraham raised his hand for silence. “That’s enough. What matters is how it tastes, not its price tag. I’d like to try this older bottle. Sincerity counts more than money.”

He popped a cork and poured himself a glass of the pale, translucent liquid.

“Good grief!” someone muttered. “Why does it look lik

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watered down dishwater?”

“That’s got to be fake,” another voice chimed in their right mind brings counterfeit wine to a family dinner?”

Florence smacked the table with a loud crack. “Now’re just insulting all of us! Cheap wine is one thing, but fake wine? Do

you plan to poison us while you’re at it?”

The entire table erupted in angry chatter.

Even Abraham looked uneasy, swirling the glass and frowning at its lackluster color.

“It’s normal for certain well–aged craft brews to lose color over time,” Alex explained calmly. “The anthocyanins degrade with age, which lightens the pigment. That doesn’t make it-‘

“Utter bullshit!” Jack snarled, his lip curling in contempt.

“Do we look like complete idiots to you? In what world does a respectable vintage come out looking like watery piss?”

Florence jabbed a quivering finger at Alex. “Why spout such pathetic lies? this?”

Marco cleared his throat, putting on an air of saintly concern.

Do

you really think we’re all stupid enough to fall for

“People, don’t judge by appearances–sometimes a rich heart hides under a threadbare

He then paused, eyes flicking over Alex with thinly veiled derision!

“Though let’s be honest: a big heart can’t buy you a decent meal, let alone proper wine.‘

He shook his head as though he were witnessing a tragic scene.

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coat.

”

“Alex, you poor, delusional soul. If you couldn’t handle bringing a worthy bottle, why not just admit it? I could’ve loaned you something halfway respectable. But no, you had to strut in here with this sorry excuse, trying to fool us for your own pitiful vanity.”

His so–called sympathy was as phony as the fake label he was accusing Alex of fronting.

Inside, he felt giddy; making Alex look small in front of the Lancaster took hardly any effort at all.

Alex folded his arms. “Believe whatever you want. I’m telling you this wine is the real deal, and it’s fantastic.”

Jack broke into cruel laughter. “If you’re that determined to keep lying, let me bring in the big guns. I know a wine master who runs the best shop in Vancouver. If he takes one sip of that swill and calls it fake, you’ll do exactly what I tell you. Deal?”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Sure. Name your price.”

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