Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 216

Chapter 216: Old School

Screen four filled with Marcus Webb’s psychological profile—a sharp-faced bastard in his forties who looked like he’d been genetically engineered for financial warfare.

The data painted a picture of methodical destruction: fifteen years of increasingly complex corporate raids, forty-three companies destroyed, over twelve thousand jobs eliminated, approximately $7.2 billion in extracted value for his masters.

"The infection runs deeper than a fucking cancer," ARIA announced with digital satisfaction. "Seven executives in Quantum Tech, all dancing to Marcus Webb’s tune."

Screen five exploded with the corruption network—a spider web of betrayal that made my blood sing with anticipation. David, recruited through gambling debts and family threats. Jessica turned through career promises and blackmail involving her prescription drug addiction and her mother.

Marketing Director Suzzie Cen compromised when her son’s legal troubles mysteriously evaporated after her cooperation began.

Each corruption was a masterpiece of psychological manipulation, tailored to exploit specific vulnerabilities with surgical precision. These weren’t random acts of betrayal—they were targeted strikes against carefully selected pressure points.

"The purchasing entity is Ascendion Capital," ARIA continued, "but the bitch running the show has been invisible until today."

Screen six revealed a face that made my predatory instincts howl with recognition. Dr. Helena Voss—steel-gray hair, shark eyes, the kind of executive who probably ordered executions between wine tastings.

"Holy shit," I breathed, genuine respect mixing with bloodthirsty anticipation.

"Helena Voss," ARIA announced with the reverence usually reserved for apex predators. "Former CIA operations director, dishonorably discharged for ’exceeding operational parameters’—which is government speak for war crimes. She runs Ascendion Capital and seventeen shell companies that serve as the financial spine for every vulture operation."

The scope was fucking staggering. This wasn’t just corporate takeover—this was economic warfare that affected entire market sectors. Voss’s fingerprints were on bank failures, pension fund collapses, and at least six suspicious deaths of executives who’d opposed her clients.

"But here’s where these paranoid fuckers get interesting," ARIA continued, frustration creeping into her voice. "The operational links between Voss and Marcus Webb are completely analog. No digital communications for their real business—nothing I can hack, intercept, or trace."

Another screen displayed surveillance footage of Marcus Webb visiting an exclusive club in Miami—the kind of establishment where membership cost more than houses and every employee had signed NDAs backed by mysterious disappearances.

"The Meridian Club," ARIA explained. "Three hundred members globally, each one vetted through intelligence networks that make the CIA look like mall security. Complete electronic isolation—no signals, no devices, no recording equipment beyond the entrance lobby." This sounded like the same club Madison had offered to me with the wellness center and the escort agency.

The security footage showed Webb’s ritual: arrive alone, surrender all electronics to club security, disappear into the main facility for exactly ninety minutes, emerge and immediately drive to operational briefings with his network.

"Old school paranoia," I observed, my respect for these enemies growing despite my desire to crush them.

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