Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 99

Chapter 99: All-Round System?

[Host is reminded that aesthetic glitches were an unintended side effect of system synchronization. Optional features are priced accordingly.]

’Unintended side effect my ass. That’s like a barista spilling your coffee and charging you for the napkin.’

[Host is being very dramatic. Also, rich people don’t complain about small expenses.]

’Oh, you did not just call me cheap, you smug digital parasite.’ I clutched the bridge of my nose and sighed.

’I’m fucking rich! I’ve got nearly a million dollars if I convert all my system points! Don’t you dare imply I’m being stingy, you digital smartass!’ 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

I had nearly a million dollars banked. That wasn’t ego talking—it was raw math. I could walk into any dealership and buy a fleet of luxury cars or fund a hostile corporate takeover if I felt spicy.

But here I was, haggling with my own AI over color swatches like I was arguing with a broke Etsy vendor.

From the front seat, Sarah twisted around, her grin devilish and far too knowing. "Peter! You look like you’re having a full-blown existential meltdown back there."

"I’m fine," I said smoothly, while mentally debating the ethics of digitally slapping a sentient system.

Emma paused her off-key harmony long enough to toss in, "Is it the part where we spend your money? That’s what’s killing you, right?"

Madison met my eyes in the rearview mirror. Her look was a cocktail of amusement and quiet sympathy; the kind you gave someone about to walk into a war zone armed only with a spoon.

"Relax," she said with a crooked smirk. "I’ll protect you from the worst of it. Maybe."

And then it happened—Mom laughed. A full-bodied, joyful laugh that made my chest ache in the best possible way. The woman who’d worked herself sick just to put food on our table... now laughing like she hadn’t had a care in the world since the Clinton administration.

"My son, the reluctant millionaire," she teased, brushing back her hair in the wind. "Most boys your age would be thrilled to take four women shopping."

’Most boys my age aren’t about to start running espionage operations, negotiating with supernatural system, and hiding a seduction system from the women in their lives,’ I thought grimly.

But I didn’t say that.

Instead, I leaned back, closed my eyes, and let the wind whip through the car as our chaos-chariot sped down the freeway. I was exhausted. I was outnumbered.

And somehow, for the first time in a long time...

...I was happy.

*

La Cherie was not a shopping mall. It was a kingdom dressed in marble and chrome, a glittering monument to consumerism, capitalism, and everything my mother had ever dreamed of and pretended she didn’t.

Calling it a mall was like calling Versailles a "nice little house." The damn place sprawled across a square mile, boasting five stories above ground and god knows how many below.

It had glass elevators, rooftop gardens, cascading fountains, and a valet system that looked like it handled more Bentleys than a royal wedding.

As Madison pulled into one of the underground VIP bays, a uniformed attendant opened her car door with the poise of someone trained by a five-star hotel. The moment the girls saw the glowing signage above the elevators—Private Clients & Executive Access—I swear, something primal ignited in them.

Excitement radiated from their bodies like heat off desert sand.

Sarah was practically bouncing in her seat, her manic energy barely contained. "Oh my God, we’re actually here. La Cherie. I’ve stalked this place on Instagram since forever. I feel like I just stepped into a K-drama."

Emma, meanwhile, was already snapping photos with the intensity of a war correspondent. "We’re hitting the electronics floor first. I need to build my dream editing suite. Then Sarah’s gear, then Mom’s car—and then we conquer the fashion districts."

Fashion districts. Plural. Jesus. Mary. High heels of Saint Prada.

Madison just smiled—smooth, amused, and completely in her element. "Daddy invested and handled the construction, so we have full access to the lounges. They serve champagne, by the way. And truffle fries."

Of fucking course, Daddy did. Of course there were truffle fries. Why not just hand me a gilded shovel so I can dig my own grave in luxury?

As they piled out of the Mercedes like a squad of tactical glam agents, I stayed put, fingers steepled, forehead pressed to the back of the passenger seat. My internal monologue was currently being invaded by a smug supernatural AI that had somehow decided it was also my financial advisor.

"Girls," I said, my voice flat, neutral, almost defeated, "I have to handle some business while you shop. Don’t wait for me."

Silence.

All four women turned in perfect unison, staring at me like I’d just announced I was joining a death cult in Siberia.

Mom squinted, arms crossed, tapping one perfectly painted nail against her hip. "Business?"

’What kind indeed? The kind where I meet a possibly suicidal billionaire CEO in a high-security suite to talk about hostile takeovers, quantum AI sabotage, and the rising threat of tech conglomerates trying to hijack her global Tech company. You know. Typical Sunday for a teenager with a seduction system.

Sarah looked at me like I was on drugs. "Since when do you have investors?"

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