The Almighty Dominance novel Chapter 67

Brock was furious when he discovered that Josephine had the audacity to resign.

Seething with anger, he burst into his modest home, the door slamming behind him like a thunderclap.

“Grace!” he shouted at his wife, who was quietly folding laundry in the living room. Tomorrow, you’re opening the restaurant!”

Grace looked up, startled by his outburst. “What happened with Josephine?”

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“She quit! Don’t ask any more questions!” he snapped, pacing the room like a caged animal.

Grace’s face paled.

“But… I don’t know how to cook.”

“Just do it like you always have!” Brock barked.

“Brock,” she pleaded, her eyes welling up. “I really don’t know how to run the restaurant. Can’t you find someone else?”

“Don’t argue with me!” he shouted, shoving her aside.

Grace stumbled, catching herself against the wall.

“When I tell you to do something, you do it!”

The next morning, Grace stood alone behind the counter of the bustling restaurant, her hands trembling as she struggled to keep up with orders.

Brock sat at a corner table, arms crossed, glaring at her with a mixture of disdain and impatience.

The customers were growing restless.

“Hey! When’s our food coming? My break’s almost over!” a burly man called out, tapping his watch.

“This is ridiculous,” another customer muttered, pushing back his chair. “I’m leaving.”

Brock’s temper flared.

He stormed over to Grace, his face contorted with rage.

“It’s simple! Why can’t you handle it? The money is slipping away because of you!”

Grace’s patience snapped. “If it’s so simple, why don’t you do it yourself?”

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“You ungrateful-” Brock snarled, raising his hand.

A miner who had been watching stood up from his seat.

“Hey, pal, that’s enough. Keep your hands off her.”

Brock whirled around. “Mind your own business! She’s my wife; I’ll do as I please.”

“Not here, you won’t.”

“Fuck off!”

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Before Brock could react, the miner landed a solid punch to his face, breaking his nose with a sickening crunch.

Brock stumbled backward, blood gushing as he let out a howl of pain.

“You’ll pay for that!” Brock screamed, grabbing a chair and swinging it wildly.

Two more miners joined in, and together they subdued Brock, leaving him bruised and battered on the floor.

Meanwhile, at the orphanage, Alex was hard at work with a toolbox by his side.

He fixed the children’s beds, repaired the creaky bathroom door, and mended the worn sections of the old fence.

The children buzzed around him, pointing out things that needed attention and chattering excitedly.

“It’s such a blessing to have a capable young man around,” Ruth said from her wheelchair at

the kitchen table.

“Just so you know, this is all volunteer work,” Josephine reminded Alex as she stirred a pot of stew. “We don’t have any money to pay you.”

Alex wiped the sweat from his brow and grinned.

“Don’t worry. Where kindness meets duty, it feels a lot like love.” 1

She glanced at him, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Suit yourself.”

He smirked. “Besides, if you were paying me, you couldn’t afford my hourly rate anyway. Just * be grateful and maybe whip up some of that amazing fried rice for me!”

Josephine rolled her eyes. “Confident, aren’t we? Unemployed and full of yourself—you must think you’re a real prince.”

“I’m more than a prince,” he shot back playfully.

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“Keep dreaming,” she retorted, shaking her head. 1

Their banter flowed naturally, each teasing remark met with a quick–witted reply.

Ruth watched them with a twinkle in her eye.

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The orphanage had been filled with worry for so long, but now, laughter echoed in the halls. The children’s faces were brighter, their smiles wider.

Suddenly, Ruth’s phone buzzed with a notification. 1

He reached up effortlessly. “You mean this one? Didn’t think you’d be able to lift it with those noodle arms of yours.”

She shot him a playful glare. “And I didn’t think you’d be so full of yourself.”

He grinned. “Confidence is key.”

As they walked through the market, their bickering continued, each exchange more lighthearted than the last.

“Thank you, Mrs. Stone,” Josephine said warmly to the elderly grocer as she paid for their items.

Mrs. Stone smiled kindly. “Always a pleasure, dear.”

She turned to Alex, handing him an apple. “Here you go, young man. On the house.”

“Wow, thanks!” Alex took a bite, savoring the crisp sweetness. “Delicious.”

The old woman leaned in conspiratorially. “You take good care of her, you hear?”

He nodded earnestly. “I’ll do my best.”

“See that you do,” she said with a wink.

Over the next few days, the restaurant began to come alive again.

Alex helped with repairs, and Josephine rehired some of the old staff.

One afternoon, as the lunch rush was winding down, Josephine called out, “Alex, could you take this fried rice to table five?”

“On it,” he replied, grabbing the plate.

As he approached the table, he stopped short.

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Sitting there were Sophia Lancaster and her parents.

Mrs. Lancaster’s eyes narrowed. “Well, look who it is. Working in a place like this. How much are they paying you? Ten dollars an hour?”

“Three dollars an hour, actually,” Alex responded calmly.

She scoffed. “I suppose everyone ends up where they belong.”

Sophia’s gaze lingered on Alex, doubt clouding her expression.

This man was really poor… did she want to reconsider him as a husband?

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