Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 270

Chapter 270: All Legal & Plot

The conference room had gone from sterile corporate chic to a war room straight out of Dr. Strangelove. Only instead of nukes, reputations were detonating in real time. Every phone screamed for attention like toddlers trapped in a Walmart toy aisle, and the distinguished academics were flailing about as gracefully as people who’d never faced actual consequences.

Dr. Whitmore looked like she was mid-stroke, her Harvard composure snapping faster than Britney Spears circa 2007. Dean Micha had gone from Stanford bronze to corpse grey in thirty seconds flat — impressive metabolic flexibility for a man who probably considers walking to his Tesla cardio.

"Eighteen percent!" shrieked someone from the video conference screen. "Quantum Tech is down eighteen fucking percent!"

I leaned back in my chair, leather creaking under me, watching Charlotte maintain her ice queen poise while billions of market cap evaporated like credibility at a Trump press briefing.

Titanium ovaries, absolutely.

Everyone else was losing their shit like they’d discovered their browser history had gone public; she was calm as a bored cat watching a PowerPoint slide show.

[Master! Media Proliferation Analysis Complete]

[2,847 articles published in the last 22 minutes]

[Twitter engagement: 1.7M tweets and climbing]

[Estimated financial damage to Quantum Tech: $47 billion]

[Recommended action: Let them burn, then offer salvation]

ARIA’s assessment hovered in my vision like a HUD designed by someone who actually understood strategy: let your enemies light themselves on fire, then sell them the extinguisher at a premium.

Under the table, Madison’s hand found mine. Grip saying: please don’t do anything psychotic. Eyes saying: but if you do, make it unforgettable. Duality of woman, honestly.

"This is a disaster!" Professor Manning squeaked like a pubescent boy discovering his first Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. "The academic integrity of both institutions is under siege!"

No shit, Sherlock. That was kind of the point.

Dr. Kim speed-read her phone like she was cramming for finals — molecular biology replaced by real-time destruction of her career. "Congressional hearings. Bernie Sanders just tweeted about ’academic capitalism corrupting education.’"

Of course Bernie did. Man has never met a wealthy person scandal he couldn’t weaponize politically. Respect the hustle.

"How did they get this information?" Dean Micha finally rasped, voice strangled like someone was squeezing his balls with institutional force. "Even if they forced... t-t-these records should have been sealed!"

I stifled a grin because, well... that’s exactly why we weren’t sealed.

Charlotte finally spoke, her voice slicing through panic like a scalpel through butter. "Does it matter how they got it? The question is what we do now."

The room went silent. Phones buzzed like a million tiny vultures circling. Every administrator in the room realized the same horrifying truth: they were screwed six ways from Sunday. The only question was whether they’d lose their jobs, their reputations, or both.

"We need to issue denials," Dr. Whitmore said, desperation making her sound like she’d just realized she accidentally microwaved her wedding ring. "Complete, categorical denials. Our legal teams—"

"Are probably updating their résumés as we speak," I interrupted, voice dripping with the kind of teenage arrogance that makes middle-aged academics want to chew glass. "You really think denials matter when Rivera Next Media is posting dates, amounts, and account numbers like a public ledger?"

The Harvard dean gave me the ’maybe-print-more-money-to-end-poverty’ look. "And what would you suggest, Mr...?"

"Eros," I said, letting the name hang like expensive cologne at a funeral. "And I suggest you all take a deep breath and remember why we’re here."

I moved to the window overlooking Miami, the city sprawled beneath us like human ambition, corruption, and bad architectural choices in hardlight.

"Two choices," I said without looking back. "Option one: fight this. Issue denials, hire crisis firms, maybe sue Rivera. Spend millions on lawyers, trash your reputations in prolonged legal theater, and still lose because..."

I turned, letting my presence fill the room like a threat wearing a tailored suit. "...the story is true."

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