Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 160

Chapter 160: The Carters: Family of Sociopaths

That’s not a threat, that’s a Netflix true-crime episode waiting for a slow piano intro.

"The difference is," she continued, leaning forward like she was about to give me state secrets, "I’d have been smarter. No witnesses. No cameras. No evidence. Because unlike you, Peter, I’ve spent sixteen years planning exactly what I’d do to anyone who hurt my babies."

"Master," ARIA whispered in my ear, sounding like Siri after witnessing a drive-by, "your mother’s threat profile requires immediate recalibration. She’s presenting as significantly more dangerous than initial assessments indicated."

No shit, ARIA. File her under ’Secret Sociopath’ and flag her higher than Logan Paul’s crypto scam risk rating.

Mom’s expression softened—but the same way a knife feels "softer" after it’s already buried in your ribs. "But you’re sixteen. You’re supposed to be impulsive and stupid and solve problems with your fists. That’s what teenage boys do. Although most just can’t put a grown man in the ICU when they try."

"About that—" I started, but she raised her hand like I was an amateur at shutting up.

"Save it. I’ve heard every version already. Some kid says you went full Hulk. Madison says you were protecting Emma. Connor Hayes has a TikTok with seventy-five thousand views claiming you’re a government experiment gone wrong. And I know were a family of sociopaths so i would understand, so..." She shook her head. "I don’t need stories. I need truth."

Yeah, well, the truth involves supernatural sex powers and a system born from global female frustration. That’s gonna go over in court like Kanye at a Taylor Swift fan meet-up. 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

"The truth is simple," I said, meeting her eyes directly. "Trent Holloway is a predator who was blackmailing Emma. I stopped him. Permanently."

"And this evidence of predatory behavior?"

’Time for hypothetical lawyering, the OnlyFans of plausible deniability.’

"Hypothetically, if someone (me) had been documenting faculty misconduct, they might have recordings, witness statements, and a pattern of predation so obvious even Disney wouldn’t reboot it. They might be using that evidence as leverage to prevent retaliation."

Mom’s smile could’ve performed surgery. The kind of smile that says, "Don’t worry, I’m only here to remove your soul. "Hypothetically, that someone would be very smart. That evidence would be useful in both criminal and civil proceedings. The kind that bankrupts school districts."

She’s already five moves ahead. Jesus Christ. ’I’m playing checkers while she’s over here speedrunning 4D chess with cheat codes.’

"You know what I see when I look at you?" She leaned back, studying me like I was a particularly interesting medical specimen that might win her a Nobel. "I see Veronica." (my mom’s other name)

That hit harder than any punch I’d ever taken. Mom never talked about my birth mother. Ever. Like she was Voldemort with a better skincare routine.

"Not how you think," she continued. "Your mother was brilliant. Could’ve been anything—doctor, lawyer, whatever she wanted, that motherfucking smart girl. But life pushed her down a different path. She had this gift for seeing angles, planning ahead, turning shit situations into advantages."

Okay, cool I do not usually hear so much about my mom, but why does this sound like the backstory for a Batman villain?

Mom stood up, came around the table, and hugged me. Not gentle, not Hallmark-channel crap—this was a deployment hug. The kind that says: "If you die, I’m burning down the planet. Slowly."

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