Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 546

Chapter 546: The Three Cougars and MILF

Today was the fucking day.

Catherine finally called — and not for one of those "therapeutic but not really therapeutic" sessions we kept pretending were normal. No, this call felt different. Sharper. Like she’d been pacing around her house rehearsing what to say, then gave up and dialed anyway.Another week gone. Another seven days I barely felt.

Time didn’t crawl anymore — it sprinted. Like it was trying to get ahead of me and failing.

My days had turned into a pattern I didn’t mind at all: Catherine calling every two days, then Dominique doing the same like they had a shared Google Calendar labeled Eros. Patricia had basically migrated into the penthouse full-time, which, honestly, made the place feel weirdly complete. Three cougars orbiting the same space, same man, same secret. They didn’t just visit — they settled. Nested. Claimed it.

Patricia only left to work or deal with divorce meetings that Richard kept stalling because he suddenly pretended he cared about "the process."

Yeah, right. The man was losing everything and trying to grab dirt on his way down.

The BioLa deal with Torres Developments. His control over Mercy Hospital that the court ordered him to withdraw. Everything returned to Patricia: 49% ownership, with Mercy Medical University holding 20%, the board and her family splitting the rest.

But that wasn’t even the plot twist.

Patricia Mercy — not Morrison anymore — Patricia was known by her peers as the richest Morrison. She owned 15% of Morrison Constructions too.

Used to.

She sold it.

To me.

When she told me she didn’t want anything from her ex’s empire, I bought the shares outright. Transferred the money. She tried pushing it back, mumbling something about how I should just "keep it." like she hadn’t just handed me the keys to a kingdom.

I didn’t keep the money.

Gave it to ARIA, let her play the stock market like it was a VR minigame.

The cash multiplied. The shares stayed with me.

Everyone won, except the guy who deserved to lose.

Meanwhile, in a different corner of my life, Jack’s little world was imploding in delicious slow motion. I leaked everything to the new VP’s computer — nothing that pointed back to me, just enough for the school board to drag Jack and his cronies into the office for a public scolding.

They walked out with community service.

The fuck?

Whatever. I wasn’t done. Revenge tastes better when it simmers.

Back to Patricia — she reclaimed her name, her identity, and her freedom. Living in my penthouse like she’d always belonged there.

The three of them—Patricia, Catherine, Dominique—had met properly last week. We’d had our first foursome. My cougars were chaos incarnate when you put them together.

And the foursome was exactly the kind of chaos you’d expect when you throw three highly intelligent, highly emotional, highly sex-starved older women in a room with a man they all want to devour.

But none of them — not one — matched Isabella’s level of "I don’t give a fuck."

She’d crossed over from the Crown Jewel. Joined us twice now. Full sessions. No hesitation. As for her daughter Maya—the little big-breasted, cute, short girl—she was always flirting with me when I visited as Eros.

And lately we weren’t even pretending it hadn’t escalated.

It was coming. That moment.

I could feel it building like static.

Right now, though, I was stuck in the Bugatti Chiron, trapped in LA rush hour, watching the city oozing forward inch by inch. The kind of traffic that makes you question your life choices and consider abandoning millions-dollar car on the freeway.

Billboards flashing above me — some owned by Rivera Next Media, some competitors — all screaming the same headline: AR.NuN AI taking over the world.

Reviews flooding in. Students using it to ace essays. Corporations stress-testing it. Chip sales exploding. App downloads hitting records like we’d bribed the entire population.

And this was just the USA. Barely 20% penetration. Ground-level success before the real wave hit.

The AI they were praising wasn’t even 1% of what ARIA could actually do—like, one fucking percent. The earbuds were still in marketing and testing, not released yet, but the anticipation was building among those who’d tested the AI. They couldn’t wait to see what both could do together, like kids waiting for Christmas if Santa was a tech billionaire who fucked.

The rule held: no joining "My Harem" group chat until they decided to fully commit. That’s why Madison kept the Appreciation Society active—to keep the uncertain women connected. Let them adjust. Process.

I pressed the accelerator. The Chiron roared—that beautiful sound of 1,500 horsepower waking up, the kind of noise that makes your dick hard and your neighbors hate you. The car shot forward like it had been caged and finally broke free, like unleashing a goddamn dragon on the 110.

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