Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 609

Chapter 609: The Drive Home

The estate’s underground garage was a vault of mechanical gods, each car a testament to my relentless pursuit—curated by ARIA’s cold precision, acquired through dealerships and private auctions that bent to my will.

The space itself was a cathedral of carbon fiber and chrome: climate-controlled air humming at 68 degrees, floors of polished epoxy reflecting LED strips that shifted colors based on the vehicle’s accent.

Holographic plaques floated above each bay, displaying specs, provenance, and ARIA’s performance analytics. The collection wasn’t for show; it was a living lab of speed, power, and engineering extremes.

I stood there, staring at eighty something million dollars’ worth of automotive engineering, and felt the weight of the moment settle into my bones.

Tonight wasn’t a night for subtlety. Tonight wasn’t a night for the Ghost’s whisper-quiet luxury or the G-Wagon’s practical dominance. Tonight required speed and violence and the kind of raw mechanical fury that matched what was screaming in my chest.

My hand fell on the key fob for the Koenigsegg Jesko Attack.

Perfect.

I dropped into the driver’s seat—racing bucket that held me like a lover, alcantara and carbon fiber, every surface tactile and purposeful. The steering wheel fit my hands like it had been molded for them.

I pressed the start button.

The twin-turbo V8 roared to life—not the polite purr of the Rolls, but a feral snarl that echoed through the garage like a war cry. 1,280 pound-feet of torque on tap. The kind of power that rewrote physics.

I cracked my neck, adjusted the mirrors, and thought about what I was driving toward.

Mom.

Linda Carter. The woman who’d saved my life when she didn’t have to. Who’d taken in a newborn whose mother died giving birth, who’d raised me as her own, who’d sacrificed everything to give me a chance.

And now—

Now the Motherfucker Halo had been working on her for weeks. Every hug. Every casual touch. Every moment of her seeing me as both her son and something more. The maternal instinct warring with the woman inside her who’d been neglected, who’d sacrificed for everyone else, who deserved to be seen as more than just "Mom."

And she’d asked me to come home.

For an "important talk."

I knew what that meant. The halo didn’t lie. It didn’t create feelings—it amplified what was already buried. And it was clear Linda had been burying her needs for seventeen years.

Tonight, that ended.

I gunned the accelerator.

The Jesko exploded out of the garage like a missile, the engine screaming as I shifted through gears—nine-speed Light Speed Transmission that changed faster than human reaction time. The forest road unwound before me, headlights carving tunnels through darkness, trees blurring into walls of shadow.

My mind churned.

Things had changed for Linda recently. The Taboo Aura had been working on her for weeks before the Halo—subtle, insidious, bringing buried feelings to the surface with every interaction. The lingering kisses on my cheeks that lasted half a second too long.

The way her eyes would track me across a room before she caught herself. The hugs that pressed closer than motherly affection required.

And then, three nights before the Motherfucker Halo even existed, she’d done something that shattered any illusion of maternal boundaries.

She’d sneaked into my bed.

Linda. In one of my t-shirts that came to mid-thigh, hair down, barefoot.

She hadn’t said anything. Just crossed the room, lifted the covers, and slid in next to me.

My heart had stopped.

This time she’d come to me, not like the usual where I went to her myself!

And I’d slept.

Like a baby. Safe. Complete.

She’d been gone when I woke up, but the memory burned in my mind like a brand.

The Motherfucker Halo hadn’t created those feelings. The Taboo Aura, my Lust Presence, the accumulated weight of every ability I had—they’d been drawing them out day by day, dissolving the barriers between "mother" and "woman" until Linda couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

The Halo had just made it impossible for her to fight what she wanted anymore. Had given her permission—the deep, primal reassurance that there was nothing wrong with embracing what she was feeling. That the man she’d raised and the man she wanted could be the same person without guilt.

And she’d asked me to come home.

For an "important talk."

But there was more context. More pieces that had fallen into place.

Patricia.

Two weeks ago after I fixed my identity issues with her, Patricia had begged me to let her talk to Linda. To clear the air. To rebuild the bridge that had been burned sixteen years ago when my birth mother—the escort who’d ruined Richard Morrison sexually—died and left me behind.

Linda and Patricia had been best friends before that. Inseparable. But my existence, the reminder of what my birth mother had done to Patricia’s marriage, had driven a wedge between them that time couldn’t heal.

Until I intervened.

I’d arranged the meeting discreetly. Neutral ground. Coffee shop in the nice part of town where neither of them would run into anyone they knew. I hadn’t been there—this was between them—but ARIA had eyes everywhere, and she’d given me the breakdown later.

They’d talked for three hours.

I’d be the solution.

Madison: Good luck, baby. Remember—she’s your mom first. Everything else is secondary.

I thought the text back with my watch: I know. I’ll be careful.

Madison: You better be. I love you. Go give her what she needs.

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