Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 327

Chapter 327: Last Digit Prints In Miami

"You look thoughtful," Charlotte murmured, turning from the mirror. She wore a navy sheath dress that wasn’t merely fabric, but intent—a study in controlled duality: the cut sharp enough for Langley’s marble halls, the line severe enough to flay confidence, yet beneath it, a current ran like dark water.

Reminding all who saw her that the woman standing before them had just gutted her enemies in broad daylight and walked away cleaner than snow.

"Measuring the gulf," I replied, hands steady at my tie. "This morning, you fought for your life in the ruins. Tonight, you negotiate the birth of empires with the Deputy Director of the CIA."

Our empire lingered unspoken. She claimed it first.

"We’re negotiating," Charlotte corrected, moving beside me. Her reflection fused with mine in the glass—shoulders squared, eyes holding not just light, but the smolder of something deeper. Relentless. "This is ours, Eros, Peter Carter or any other identity you will come up with in your paranoid godly genius mind later. Every victory was forged in your fire."

Ownership resonated in that ’ours’ underneath meaning. Not gratitude. Recognition. Charlotte was a fortress carved from diamond, self-sufficient and scarred by too many battles. Yet now, she allowed me into the armory. Let me stand where she sharpened her weapons. Trusted me not just with strategy, but with the quiet spaces between victories.

When she looked at me in mirrors, when she thought I watched the city beyond the window—it wasn’t calculation. It was the slow, gravity-locked descent of a star into a black hole. She hadn’t named it. Wouldn’t yet. But her orbit was irrevocably shifted.

She was falling. Not helplessly. Deliberately. Terrifyingly. Into the gravity of the man who’d cracked the world for her.

"The impossible becomes ordinary in my world, My Love," I said, the reflection a portrait of convergence. "Six months ago—a cipher. Unseen. Today: an empire unmade, markets bending like reeds in our wake, the CIA opening doors where cells once awaited."

"And tomorrow?"

A smile touched my lips—thin, knowing, edged with the taste of coming conflict. "Tomorrow, we hunt what moves in the ruins left by the dead."

Her fingers brushed mine. Just once. But the tremor that ran through them was a current deep enough to drown continents. Today had been her vindication—the reforging of her name in white-hot defiance. Tonight, perhaps, she acknowledged the truth her armor couldn’t deflect: the man who handed her back the world held her heart in his sacred hands.

The car waited below. Ava and the shadow she served—the final turn of the screw in the unraveling of vultures.

The CIA meeting unfolded like a piece of theater staged by ghosts—smoke, mirrors, and a thousand invisible hands pulling at the curtains. Ava’s boss—thin, deliberate, eyes like sharpened glass—introduced himself only as "Deputy Director Crawford," as though the title were enough to eclipse the man beneath it. He wasn’t here to negotiate. He’d come to weigh me, measure me, chart the outline of whatever shadow I cast across their intelligence map.

What Crawford didn’t know was that every eye in the room, every microphone, every sensor they’d smuggled behind the veneer of diplomacy, was already mine. The recording rigs, the covert cameras tucked into corners, the surveillance net spun tight enough to skin a ghost—ARIA had her claws in all of it before the first handshake ended.

"Master," she murmured in my ear, soft as a blade unsheathing, "their system is hardwired into Langley’s core. He’s trying to analyze you, but he’s giving me a live feed into the CIA’s nervous system. It’s like being handed the kingdom while the guards are asleep."

Crawford’s eyes tracked me like a predator studying an unfamiliar species, trying to decipher what kind of man dismantles empires and still walks out calm. He didn’t know the data he thought he was harvesting was flowing backward, being devoured whole. ARIA wasn’t breaching his systems. She was swimming through them, turning their ocean into paper and ink.

The acquisitions had been an afterthought—Meridian Logistics, Apex Manufacturing, Cloudstone Infrastructure, Genway Research Labs, Hartfield Investment Group—all signatures neatly aligned, each one another artery feeding into the machine Charlotte and I were building.

But then came the final challenge.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify