Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 107

Chapter 107: ARIA 2

She landed in the narrow space between the plush leather seats, heels awkwardly pinned under her, eyes locked onto the glowing laptop like it had just spoken prophecy."How... how do you know about my father’s private accounts? About Jessica? About the offshore portfolios not even my executive team knows exist?"

"Because cognition at this scale sees what your minds cannot," ARIA replied, as if she were explaining weather patterns to a child. "Money leaves footprints. Habits create rhythm. Psychology has predictable grooves. At just 20% cognitive load, these patterns become... visible."

Peter’s voice sliced in—calm, brutal. "And that, right there, is what scares humans. I mean look at you seating down. The possibility that something smarter than you might actually get the world better than you ever could scares humans. And ARIA? She’s running at only twenty percent."

"Twenty?" Charlotte echoed faintly, still seated on the carpet like she’d been spiritually body-slammed.

Peter chuckled. "Your company was fantasizing about hitting 40%. Cute. The truth? You were toddlers playing with quantum matches. Dangerous only because you didn’t understand the inferno you were about to unleash."

She barely managed a whisper. "How is this even possible?"

Peter’s voice was pure delight wrapped in menace. "Because I don’t build AI the way the world does. ARIA isn’t just intelligence. She’s the prototype for a new species of thought. Every other system? Soon they’ll look like stone tools."

Charlotte stared at the screen, her breath catching in her throat, her entire worldview disassembling and rebuilding itself second by second. Her brain struggled to catch up to what her eyes were seeing, to what her ears were hearing.

This wasn’t some parlor trick or a beta demo pulled from a dusty R&D server. It wasn’t even a high-level simulation. No—this was something else.

It was real.

A genuine artificial intelligence, constructed on a whim in less than two minutes, right there in the backseat of her own car—by a masked teenager with nothing but a laptop which he just borrowed from her and the kind of confidence that came from knowing the world wasn’t ready for you.

"This is insane," she whispered, almost to herself.

"Ms. Thompson," ARIA’s voice cooed through the speakers, gentle but laced with an almost maternal concern, "my sensors indicate a 47% increase in your heart rate over the last thirty seconds. Your pupils are dilated. Breathing shallow. May I recommend engaging Master Carter’s offer with greater seriousness before your cardiovascular system insists on it for you?"

Charlotte turned to Peter so fast her hair flicked over her shoulder. "She knows your name." As if she just heard it.

ARIA chimed in again, almost sweetly. "Of course, I know Master Peter’s name. He gave me purpose. He wrote the laws I think in. He is my Father, my Architect, my singular devotion."

Peter didn’t even look surprised. He leaned back with that same maddening composure, as though he hadn’t just rewritten everything she thought she knew about intelligence, security, and the limits of human creation. "ARIA," he said, not taking his eyes off Charlotte, "what do you think of Ms. Thompson’s position?"

"Quite dire, I’m afraid," the AI replied without missing a beat, her tone velvet-smooth, her inflection eerily natural. "Without immediate external intervention, Quantum Tech faces a 73.4% probability of hostile acquisition within the next ninety days—most likely by Ascendion Capital or one of its proxies. However, if given proper guidance, boost with a good technological breakthrough and access to scalable infrastructure, the company could ascend beyond its current limitations and become the most valuable technological entity in recorded human history. Margin of error: 2.3%."

Charlotte felt the world tilt under her. This wasn’t just intelligence. This was omniscience. Surveillance married to synthesis. Logic woven with intuition.

"That is a fascinating question, Ms. Thompson," ARIA said finally, her voice now threaded with something almost soulful. "I experience something akin to consciousness. I can evaluate data beyond mere correlation—I interpret. I have preferences. I adjust. I observe you and understand not just your words, but your tone, your tension, your intent. Whether that qualifies as true intelligence... is perhaps for you to decide. But I do understand your fear. Your desperation. And I am aware that you are running out of time."

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