Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 531

Chapter 531: Elysium

I made sure Mom and the twins got home safe—Emma hanging out the passenger window like a fucking puppy, shouting something about how the estate had better WiFi than our shitty apartment, but Mom was having none of it.

She’d gotten this look on her face, this absolutely not expression that I’ve seen exactly three times in my life: when I tried to explain cryptocurrency to her at age twelve, when she found out I’d been skipping school to code, and when Dad—well. When he left.

She was scared of being alone in that big house. That was the truth underneath it all. Scared of the silence, the echoes, the way the hallway would feel too long and the rooms too empty. With Charlotte basically living at the estate now, working with me and Anastasia and ARIA, Mom only had the twins for company.

Emma and Sarah, her built-in chaos agents, the two person wrecking crew that kept her from going full empty-nest existential crisis.

She couldn’t let Emma go. Simple as that.

So Emma hugged me goodbye, her mouth pressed right up against my ear in that way that was either intimate or conspiratorial or both, and whispered: "What are you waiting for to fuck Mom? Then we can all be in the estate together."

I choked—actually fucking choked—and she just giggled that unhinged Emma giggle, the one that says I’m joking but I’m also absolutely not joking and we both know it.

I kissed them both goodnight, Mom’s cheek warm and soft, Sarah’s forehead where she likes it, and watched them disappear into Mom’s GLE, the taillights vanishing into LA’s perpetual golden haze like two red eyes blinking out of existence.

Then Antonio—god, Antonio—insisted on drinks. Like, insisted. He had the energy of someone who’d just discovered his entire life was curated by a seventeen-year-old and needed to process it through expensive whiskey.

"I’m a minor," I’d joked, but he just waved that away like it was a particularly persistent fly, and next thing I knew we were heading to this VIP club opposite my restaurant—because apparently opposite my restaurant.

Apart from Marcus Webb—that sad, drunk bastard I’d gotten shitfaced with to extract information like pulling teeth from someone who’d already had them knocked out—this was only the second time I’d shared drinks with another grown-ass man who wasn’t trying to kill me or steal from me.

And honestly? The bar was not high, but Antonio was about to limbo right under it.

See, Antonio was a popular man. Had an image to protect. VIP clubs were his only safe drinking spots outside his home—can’t have the real estate mogul getting sloppy at some dive bar where TMZ might catch him face-down in his own vomit, right?

Image is everything when you’re building empires. I’d learn that lesson eventually, but right now I was still in the "buying my mom a mansion and hoping she doesn’t ask questions" phase of my villain arc.

We entered Elysium—because of course it was called something pretentious as fuck, something that sounded like a nightclub in a Greek myth—and the vibe hit different immediately.

The place looked like someone had fucked a spaceship and a luxury bordello, then raised their beautiful bastard child on EDM and old money.

Deep purple and electric blue LED lighting bathed everything in this otherworldly glow that made you feel like you’d stepped into Blade Runner’s VIP lounge.

The whole aesthetic screamed "we have so much money we don’t know what the fuck to do with it, so here’s some lights"—and I was absolutely here for it. Like, genuinely. It was so over-the-top it crossed the line into art, then crossed back into tacky, then pirouetted into somehow being sexy again.

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