Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 101

Chapter 101: The Approach

Between the accumulated profits from trading, mission bonuses, and the freshly unlocked system access, I was sitting on roughly $932,800 in total net worth. Not system points. Real, spendable, "buy-an-island-and-retire" kind of money.

Holy!

Less than a week ago, I was debating whether I could stretch a five-dollar bill across three days. I used to count quarters for lunch. Now I could fund a congressional campaign—or start my own black-ops tech startup.

But no—I wasn’t here to blow this windfall on luxury or sink into the fantasy of silk sheets and champagne nights. Not yet. That wasn’t the move.

That wasn’t the plan.

Peter Carter wasn’t interested in playing rich. I was interested in building something untouchable.

Something generational.

And standing right in front of me, glittering like a capitalist cathedral, was La Cherie—the most prestigious shopping center on this side of the country. Think marble floors polished to a mirror shine, boutiques that looked like fashion temples, escalators that climbed like stairways to a designer heaven.

Every square inch reeked of wealth, indulgence, and taste.

The kind of place where even the breathable air had a price tag.

Mom, Sarah, Emma, and Madison were already drifting ahead of me, swept into the current of perfume clouds and high-end window displays like kids set loose in a billionaire’s candy store. It was cute—adorable, even.

But I had other priorities.

I wasn’t just here to spend.

I was here to invest.

While the girls disappeared into the crowd of designer heels and flashing cameras, I slipped away with calculated subtlety. My boots barely made a sound on the floor. Not because I was stealthy, but because I moved with purpose.

Every second counted now.

Charlotte Thompson—CEO of Quantum Tech, financial enigma, and the woman who, according to my system, would be dead within the next week—was due here any minute for her standing Sunday spa ritual. I wasn’t going to wait for some glorified cattle call interview with twenty desperate tryhards.

No. I was going to walk straight into her life and make her remember the name Peter Carter forever.

I checked my appearance in the black-glass storefront as I passed. Madison had forced me into high-end designer jeans that actually fit like they were sewn for me, a tailored black shirt that hugged my torso like I belonged in a magazine, and matte leather shoes that whispered wealth without screaming it.

No flashy watches. No chains. Just clean, calculated wealth.

Understated power.

I moved like I belonged.

"Hey, I’ll catch up with you guys later!" I called casually to Madison. She looked over her shoulder with that glint in her eye—curious, amused, suspicious—but didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to.

She knew.

Time to get to work.

The plan wasn’t to win some talent competition Charlotte had set up like a reality show episode. Fuck that. I wasn’t here to impress her in a room full of Ivy League morons with savior complexes. I wasn’t here to compete.

I was here to take the whole goddamn board off the table.

Because that’s what monopolists do.

And I wasn’t just trying to be rich anymore. I was trying to be inevitable.

He was going to ambush her with an offer so dangerous, so exquisitely calculated, that it would bypass logic, fear, and skepticism alike. The others—the twenty eager minds she’d summoned to her innovation gauntlet—were nothing but noise.

The shadow genius approach—skip the crowd, own the outcome.

She could have the glory. I’d keep the control.

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