Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 491

Chapter 491: Proud Mom

But none of it felt real without Mom knowing. Without her seeing that I’d made it, that her sacrifices paid off, that she never had to work another ICU shift if she didn’t want to.

My pace increased without conscious decision—feet moving faster, eating up distance, driven by something I couldn’t name. My breathing quickened. Sweat formed at my temples despite the cool air, at the small of my back under my jacket, making my shirt stick slightly. My heart rate climbed from resting to something approaching exercise.

"Your heart rate is elevated," ARIA observed, voice clinical. "Respiratory rate increasing. You’re essentially jogging now. Heart rate at 118 BPM and climbing."

"I want to see her."

"I’m aware. Your biometric data suggests significant emotional attachment combined with what might be classified as separation anxiety, though that term typically applies to—"

"ARIA."

"Yes, Master?"

"Shut up."

"Understood."

Mercy General appeared ahead—ten stories of institutional architecture trying to look welcoming and failing spectacularly, all beige concrete and tiny windows and that specific hospital aesthetic that was supposed to be calming but just felt oppressive. Exterior lit up like Christmas, every window glowing, ambulances creating constant motion at the emergency entrance.

Mom worked here. Had worked here for years. Twelve-hour shifts in the ER before the ICU. Had come home exhausted night after night, scrubs stained, feet aching, eyes red from crying over patients she couldn’t save.

The ICU was on the seventh floor. Her shift ended at midnight. It was 11:53 PM according to my quantum watch—the display crisp and clear, showing time and my vitals and probably three other metrics I hadn’t asked for.

I walked through the main entrance—automatic doors sliding open with pneumatic hiss, blast of cold air-conditioned atmosphere hitting me like walking into a freezer, that hospital smell intensifying into something almost physical.

The security guard looked up from his desk—older Black guy, probably mid-sixties, gray at the temples, the kind of weathered face that had seen everything and was rarely impressed by anything. Probably retired cop, definitely had that cop bearing, that way of assessing threats without seeming to look directly at you.

"Evening, here for Ms. Linda Carter." I said, keeping my voice casual, normal.

He blinked, recovering. His professional mask sliding back into place, but I’d seen that moment of recognition. "You’re... family?"

"Her son. Peter."

Something in his expression shifted—surprise maybe, or recognition, or both. "Linda’s son. She talks about you sometimes. Adopted you, right? Proud as hell of how you turned out."

That hit differently than expected. Like a fist to the solar plexus, knocking air from my lungs. Making my chest tight and my throat close slightly. "She talks about me?"

"Hell yeah. All the time. We are friends and we talk about our kids, hahaha." He smiled—genuine warmth, the kind you couldn’t fake. "Says her boy’s doing real good for himself now. Made something of his life. Got himself educated, got a good job, takes care of his family. She lights up when she talks about you, man. That’s a mom who’s proud of her kid."

He gestured at my clothes—leather jacket that cost more than he probably made in a month, designer shirt underneath, perfectly fitted pants that were tailored specifically to my body, shoes worth more than his car payment. "Guess she wasn’t exaggerating."

"Can I go up?" The words came out rougher than I intended. Emotion making my voice thick.

"Visiting hours ended at nine, but..." He glanced at his computer screen, then back at me. Something in his face said he was making exception he normally wouldn’t. "ICU’s on seven. Elevators are that way. Try not to disturb any patients, yeah?"

"Thank you."

"You’re welcome, son." He settled back into his chair, that genuine smile still on his face.

"And hey—your mom’s good people. One of the best nurses here. Works harder than anyone I’ve ever seen. She brags about you, you know. Says her son’s the reason she drives that Mercedes now. That you made it happen for her. That’s real love right there—kid who takes care of his mom like that."

"Glad she’s got family that cares enough to pick her up at midnight," he added.

The elevator was empty—reflective walls showing me back to myself. Peter Carter, not Eros.

But not regular Peter anymore either. The Taboo System had changed things—made me catastrophically beautiful in ways that didn’t make sense.

Stormy grey eyes that now held golden sparks deep in the iris—subtle enough that most people wouldn’t notice unless they looked close, obvious enough that anyone who did would wonder what the fuck they were seeing.

I pressed seven and the elevator lurched upward with that mechanical groan elevators made.

Seventh floor arrived with a soft ding. The doors slid open and the hallway stretched out in that institutional way—linoleum floors polished to a shine, fluorescent lighting harsh and unforgiving, hand sanitizer dispensers every ten feet like sentries, that constant low-grade noise of medical equipment and quiet conversations and controlled chaos that was the soundtrack of every hospital in existence.

The smell hit harder up here—antiseptic and sickness and that underlying smell of death that no amount of cleaning could completely erase. Beeping from monitors. The whoosh of ventilators. Quiet conversations between nurses and doctors. Footsteps echoing. The specific soundscape of people fighting to keep other people alive.

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