Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 159

Chapter 159: Secret Sociopath: Linda Carter

The Lincoln Heights Police Department looked like every other government building trying too hard to seem important—part concrete bunker, part ego monument, sprinkled with the kind of cheap landscaping that screamed budget meeting compromise.

The American flag out front looked like it had seen more wind than a Kardashian Instagram comment section.

News crews were already camped outside like it was fucking Black Friday, and I was the doorbuster deal.

’Fantastic. Nothing like the smell of opportunistic journalism in the morning.’

’Can’t wait to trend on Twitter,’ I thought, stepping over a power cable some intern probably risked their career to run. #PrivilegedTeenBeatsUpPedo is gonna hit different when they find out I’m the broke kid in this story. I should start a GoFundMe just to see how many people would donate purely out of spite.

Officer Logan led me in through the back entrance, the kind of hallway that looked like every bad police procedural had been filmed there. Madison got shuffled off toward the visitor’s area.

She tossed me that "please don’t make this worse" look girlfriends have been perfecting since the Mesozoic Era, right alongside figuring out how to blame you for their bad dreams. Which was adorable, considering I’d already speedrun the worst-case scenario by turning Trent’s face into a Jackson Pollock painting.

"Your mom’s already here," Logan said, tone flat enough to iron a shirt on. The guy probably joined the force to chase real criminals, not babysit teenagers with anger management issues and excellent right hooks. "Interview Room 3."

Oh, good. The Final Boss fight. And unlike video games, I can’t just hit respawn if she decides to end my life.

"Master," ARIA chimed in, her voice as crisp and unhelpful as ever, "your cortisol levels indicate extreme stress. Perhaps we should review your legal knowledge before—"

ARIA, I could pass the bar exam in my sleep. Hell, I could defend myself in seventeen different courts without breaking a sweat. None of that changes the fact I’m about to face the woman who once grounded me for sneezing too loud in church.

The walk to Interview Room 3 felt longer than the Marvel Cinematic Universe—phases one through twenty. Every step carried the weight of every "we need to talk" in human history, every "I expected better from you" that’s been weaponized by disappointed parents since the invention of language.

Logan opened the door, and there she was. Linda Carter. Sitting at the metal table like judge, jury, and potential executioner. Still in her ICU scrubs, fresh from twelve hours of handling other people’s worst days.

Her expression? Scarier than any legal statute I’d memorized.

This is it. This is my obituary. Cause of death: pure, undiluted maternal disappointment. ’ ’Someone better make sure they use my good Instagram picture for the funeral program.’

"Twenty minutes," Logan said, getting the keys ready to unlock my cuffs with all the ceremony of a priest giving last rites. "Knock when you’re ready."

The cuffs came off with a click that sounded way too much like a countdown timer. Logan closed the door behind me, and I swear I heard the faint thud of him leaning against it—probably hoping it’d muffle the screams when Mom started my emotional autopsy.

Mom didn’t say anything right away. She just looked at me, and the silence hit harder than any belt, slipper, or wooden spoon known to mankind. Nurses have that look—they can assess your entire life’s worth of poor decisions in one scan, like TSA but for moral character. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

"Sit," she said.

Her tone wasn’t loud, but it had that parental frequency that bypasses your ears and goes straight to your spine, forcing obedience. You could probably aim it at a pit bull mid-maul and have him sitting pretty like he was at Westminster.

I sat.

She folded her arms and leaned back in the chair. "Explain."

I opened my mouth. ARIA, my AI, of course decided this was the perfect time to be helpful.

’ARIA, shut up. You’re like Clippy, but with fewer boundaries and more emotional sabotage.’

"Trent was about to hurt her." I leaned forward, trying to keep my voice calm but confident—like every white-collar criminal on 60 Minutes explaining how the money just sort of ’appeared’ in the Cayman Islands. "I stopped him. With... physical persuasion."

That almost sounded reasonable—until I remembered I’d also kicked him while he was down. Twice. Okay, maybe three times. And all those punches and the knee in the face.

She sighed. Not a normal sigh, either. This was the Linda Carter ICU Sigh™—the one that carried the weight of every 2 a.m. patient, every idiot who thought WebMD made them a doctor, and every son who thought he was invincible because he could quote legal precedent in casual conversation.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify