Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs Chapter 701 The Carter Family Prodigy

I looked at Aunt Jasmine across the table—really looked at her—and couldn't help the smile that curved my lips. Not the predatory one. Not the one that promised damnation wrapped in silk. Just... affection.

My smile ca from knowing soone's story, knowing what it cost them to get here.

She'd finished college last year. Graduated with honors, actually, though she never ntioned that part because humility was a family trait we'd all inherited except Emma, who'd decided bragging rights were more fun.

Linda had paid for every credit hour, every textbook, every late-night coffee that kept Jasmine's eyes open through finals.

That's why despite being promoted to the ICU floor—despite the raise that should've ant breathing room—Mom barely made enough to support four of us.

And the three were won with high needs even if they held back too.

Jasmine had worked part-ti through school. Retail, mostly.

The kind of job where you smiled at custors who treated you like furniture and counted hours until your shift ended so you could go ho and study for exams that determined whether you'd spend your life in retail or actually use the degree you were drowning to earn.

It helped with her imdiate needs. Helped us kids when we needed sothing trivial Mom's budget couldn't stretch to cover.

But Jasmine had a dream.

And more importantly, she had talent.

The kind of talent that didn't care about financial limitations or family obligations or the statistical improbability of making it when you ca from working-class roots and had to fight for every opportunity people with money got handed at birth.

"So," I said, cutting through the comfortable noise of silverware on plates and Madison's foot still teasing my calf under the table like she couldn't help herself. "How's the shooting going?"

Aunt Jasmine's face lit up like soone had plugged her into a power source. Brightness and relief in one breath, the kind of expression that made you rember why people chased dreams even when the odds were garbage and the path was uphill through broken glass.

"Everything's fine now," she said, leaning forward with an energy that made her wine glass wobble dangerously. "We're finally on a break after four straight months of training."

Four months. Four months of discipline that would break most people, of waking up before dawn and going to bed with muscles screaming, of perfecting shots until muscle mory was more reliable than conscious thought.

Four months of proving she belonged on a team that represented the best shooters in the country.

Because Aunt Jasmine wasn't just good at shooting.

She is a prodigy.

USA Shooting had added her to the national team last year—the actual Olympic and Paralympic shooting team that represented the United States in international competitions.

The Olympic Gas. ISSF World Cups. World Championships.

The stages where one bad shot could haunt you for years and one perfect performance could make you immortal.

And Jasmine had earned her spot despite coming from a family where "disposable inco" was a theoretical concept we'd heard about but never experienced. Most prodigies ca from money—families who could afford private coaching, travel to competitions, equipnt that cost more than our old car.

Jasmine had clawed her way there anyway with thirdhand gear and sheer stubborn refusal to accept that poverty ant settling for less than excellence.

It was impressive. More than impressive. It was an achievent that made you believe in ritocracy even when you knew the system was rigged.

"The invitation matches don't start until mid-November," she continued, gesturing with her fork in a way that made Sarah lean back slightly to avoid getting stabbed.

"Running through January, just before the ISSF circuit begins. They're not official world events yet—more like warm-ups where top shooters from different countries get together to test form, trade pressure, keep their edge sharp without the weight of dals."

Emma nodded like she understood, which she probably didn't. Emma's understanding of competitive shooting began and ended with "point gun, pull trigger, hope for the best."

"It's the kind of stretch where skill gets tuned," Jasmine explained, warming to her topic the way she always did when talking about sothing she loved. "Mistakes get fixed. Reputations quietly grow before the world's caras turn back on."

She took a breath—a real one, the kind that ca from the bottom of your lungs and reset your nervous system. "That's why December is mine. A full month to breathe before the whole cycle starts again."

You could hear the relief in her voice. The exhale of soone who'd been holding their breath since sumr and finally rembered they were allowed to need oxygen.

"Oh!" She bead even more, which shouldn't have been physically possible but apparently was. "And they assigned as assistant coach to the junior team. To help them when I have ti between my own training."

Silence!

Then the table erupted in congratulations—Mom beaming with maternal pride, Sarah offering genuine complints in her quiet way, Emma being loud about it because Emma was loud about everything, Madison raising her wine glass in a toast that felt more sincere than her usual calculated gestures.

"That's incredible and so cool Aunt Jas," I said, and ant it. "Seriously. National team and coaching at twenty-two? You're kind of killing it."

"Twenty-two." She blushed—actually blushed, cheeks going pink in a way that made her look younger than she was. "I an, it's not that big a deal—"

"It's a huge deal," Sarah cut in, firm. "Don't diminish it."

Jasmine's smile went soft. Grateful. The kind of expression that happened when soone reminded you that your achievents mattered even when imposter syndro whispered that you'd gotten lucky instead of earned it.

"If you ever need anything," I said, eting her eyes across the table with the kind of sincerity that didn't co with ulterior motives, "tell . Money, connections, whatever. You've worked too hard to let logistics get in the way now."

Her blush deepened. "I don't need anything right now—"

She stopped mid-sentence. Reconsidered. The way people do when they rember that asking for help isn't weakness, it's strategy.