Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs Chapter 330: Update on the Mission

I watched the maternal takeover unfold with growing amusent—and yeah, maybe a little jealousy. "Uh, hello? I’m the one who just got back from saving the day. Where’s my parade of excessive maternal concern?"

Mom hit with that patented ’you’re a moron’ look. "Peter, you’re almost seventeen, apparently worth millions, and you can charter private jets like they’re Ubers. These girls need taking care of. You? You need a reality check."

"Wow," I muttered. "Charlotte’s been part of the family for like—what, two weeks? —and you’re already treating her better than your actual son. I feel so seen right now."

"That’s because Charlotte doesn’t vanish to Miami and give panic attacks," Mom said, laughing. "Besides, she bought this gorgeous car. What have you done for lately?"

"Funny you should ask," I said, unable to stop the grin crawling up my face. "Actually, Mom, I finished paying off that mansion today. It’s officially yours. Deed’s in Linda Carter’s na, completely paid off. No strings attached."

"Peter... what?"

I shrugged like it was no big deal, even though my heart was hamring. "The mansion. It’s yours. No mortgage. No conditions. You own it."

"You’re kidding, right?"

"No. The mansion. Your dream house. It’s yours. No mortgage, no conditions, no strings attached." I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. "So maybe now you can give a little more love than these two freeloaders who’ve only been family for two weeks?"

Her hands were shaking so badly she had to pull over, throw the car in park, and turn to stare at like I’d just confessed to murder.

"Peter Carter. What did you do?"

"I bought my mom a house. Is that a cri now?"

Her voice cracked. "A mansion. You bought a mansion."

"Correction," I said, milking the mont, "a multi-million-dollar mansion. With a pool. And that kitchen you couldn’t stop drooling over while muttering about how we’d be paying it off until the apocalypse."

Silence. Then her face crumpled, and she broke into full-on ugly sobs—like, shoulder-shaking, mascara-lting, ’soone call a therapist’ level crying.

"Shit," I muttered, instantly regretting my dramatic flair. "Mom, don’t cry. It’s supposed to be, you know, good news."

Too late. She was already out of the driver’s seat, yanking my door open and crushing in a hug right there on the side of the road.

"You impossible, ridiculous, wonderful boy," she sobbed into my shoulder. "How am I supposed to process this? My seventeen-year-old son just bought a mansion. A mansion."

"Easy," I said into her hair. "Say thank you and admit I’m your favorite child."

She laughed through her tears, pulling back just enough to glare at . "You’re my only son, you brat."

"Details," I shot back.

Behind us, Charlotte was wiping her eyes. "That was beautiful and terrifying at the sa ti."

"That’s Peter in a nutshell," Madison added dryly. "Dramatic gesture with a side of emotional manipulation."

"Excuse you," I said. "I prefer strategic emotional timing."

Mom was still smiling through the tears, shaking her head. "You know I can’t actually accept a mansion, right?"

"Too late," I said, stooping to scoop up her dropped keys. "It’s already a done deal. ARIA handled the paperwork."

"Peter, that’s not how real estate works—"

"That’s exactly how real estate works when you have enough money and a really good AI," I said, grinning. "Besides, you deserve it. You sacrificed everything for and the twins. Ti to get sothing back."

I gave her a mock-serious look. "So maybe now you can give a little more love than these two freeloaders who’ve only been family for two weeks?"

Charlotte actually laughed, even though she looked dead on her feet. "Freeloaders? I bought your mother a rcedes!"

"And I help with the twins’ howork and keep Peter from being completely insufferable," Madison chid in. "What exactly do you contribute to this household, Peter?"

"Multi-million dollar mansions, apparently," Mom said thickly, her voice doing that wobbly thing it does right before the waterworks. She yanked into another crushing hug. "You impossible, wonderful, ridiculous boy."

"So I win? I get more love than the newcors?"

"You all get all my love, you jealous brat," Mom said, ruffling my hair. "But yes, mansion-buying sons get bonus points."

She stared at for another long second, then shook her head and slid back into the driver’s seat. "I don’t know what I’m going to do with you."

"Love unconditionally and admit I’m better than Charlotte at gift-giving?"

"Don’t push it," she said, but she was smiling as she pulled back onto the road. "Though yes... mansion definitely beats car."

"I heard that," Charlotte said from the back.

"You were supposed to."

I leaned back, soaking in the noise of them. This was what I’d been missing in Miami—the chaos, the easy jabs, the feeling of being loved for instead of just for what I could do.

Even if "" had beco infinitely more complicated.

ARIA, I thought, how’s that California research coming?

"Penthouses: three excellent options in the Bay Area, all available for imdiate purchase under your alias. OnlyCeleb Bar appears to be an exclusive establishnt catering to entertainnt industry professionals—mbership costs approximately $500,000 annually. As for vehicles, I recomnd the Aston Martin DB12 or perhaps a more understated Porsche Taycan."

"Send the details later, for the penthouse mostly," I thought. "Right now, I just want to go ho."

"Of course, Master. Though I should ntion—your family dynamic analysis shows significant improvent in emotional intelligence. Well done."

"Thanks. I think."

Yeah. This was going to be interesting.

"So, apart from saving Charlotte’s company," Mom said as she started the engine, "what exactly did you three accomplish in Miami?"

"It’s complicated, Mom," I said—the understatent of the century.

"Complicated how? Please tell you didn’t do anything illegal."

"Define illegal," I said, which made Charlotte snort.

"Peter Carter—"

"I’m kidding! Mostly legal. So creative interpretation of securities law, but nothing the FBI will care about."

Mom shook her head as we left the airport lot. "I swear, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. Flying to Miami, saving billion-dollar companies, buying mansions... what’s next?"

"Actually, Mom," I said aloud, "I’m thinking about getting a car. Sothing nice but not too flashy."

"Finally! I was wondering when you’d stop bumming rides from your girlfriend."

"Hey," Madison protested. "I like driving him around. It’s like having a really expensive pet."

"I’m sitting right here," I said.

"We know," Charlotte mumbled, half-asleep. "That’s what makes it fun."

This was family. Not the beaches, not the skyscraper offices, not even the adrenaline of pulling off the impossible. No, it was this: the dumb chaos of family, the constant roasting, the feeling of being loved not for what I could pull off, but for who I was.

Even if who I was had gotten... infinitely more complicated.

"ARIA," I thought, "send the details, for the mansion after Mom finishes adopting my girlfriend and business partner."

"Perfect. Sending details after your mother’s unofficial adoption ceremony is complete."

Yeah. This was going to be interesting.