Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs Chapter 768 Welcome to the Cuck City

I'd taken Madison from the dating pool—rich girls' parents usually vetted every guy, protected their daughters like investnts. Nothing. Her father didn't even blink. Just accepted it.

I'd taken Sofia from Jack Morrison—quarterback, wealthy family, the kind of guy who should've co at with everything he had. He'd tried once or twice? That was it. Then he crumbled. Fell apart.

Beca a cautionary tale instead of an opponent.

I'd taken Isabella from her husband—a married woman, a teacher, risking everything. And her husband? Found out, filed for quiet divorce, slunk away like a beaten dog. No confrontation. No fight. No attempt to win her back or destroy for ruining his marriage.

I'd taken won from the Miami elite—n with billions, with power, with resources to make disappear. And what did they do? They negotiated? They accepted losses? They moved on to the next acquisition because fighting wasn't worth the energy.

Where did all that manly ego go? That territorial instinct n were supposed to have?

I rembered reading about the old days. Not ancient history. Just a few generations back. When n would duel over won. Actually face each other with weapons, with fists, with honor on the line. When stealing another man's girl ant you'd better be ready to defend yourself because he was coming for blood.

There were stories about bar fights that lasted hours because so guy disrespected another man's woman. About fathers showing up with shotguns when boys got their daughters pregnant. About husbands challenging lovers to actual physical combat—not lawsuits, not social dia campaigns, but fights.

n who'd rather die than let another man take what was theirs without consequences.

But the so-called modern n?

They just... let it happen.

Sent passive-aggressive texts. Posted sad shit on Instagram. Maybe filed for divorce through lawyers. But actual confrontation? Actual willingness to fight, to risk sothing, to stand up and say "not my woman, not without going through first"?

Nonexistent.

And yeah, maybe I should've been grateful. Made my life easier. ant I could seduce whoever I wanted without worrying about getting jumped in parking lots or shot by jealous husbands.

But part of —the part that respected strength, that understood the value of worthy opponents and the value these won.. my won represented—was fucking disappointed.

Who would let such won go without doing anything about it?

Where was the challenge? Where were the n who loved their won enough to actually fight for them instead of just rolling over and accepting defeat?

It made victory feel hollow sotis. Like I was conquering a world that had already surrendered before I even arrived.

Anyway.

Point was: my dreams ca true. So completely that the SP I'd thought would be my main inco source had grown to nine hundred thousand without even noticing.

I'd last checked when I hit seven hundred thousand. That was... weeks ago? A month? Ti blurred when you were busy building empires and fucking your way through LA's elite.

Two hundred thousand SP gained passively. In the background. While I focused on trading, on business acquisitions, on expanding Liberation Holdings into a multi-billion dollar empire.

SP had beco secondary. A bonus. Supplentary inco to the real wealth I generated through legitimate business.

The system that gave powers had accidentally created a capitalist.

Ironic as fuck.

"You're good at that," Margaret observed, watching braid Reyna's hair.

"I'm good at everything," I said, grinning. "Cos with the god complex."

Amanda snorted. "Humble as ever."

"Humility is for people with things to be humble about."

They laughed. Even Margaret. The sound carried across the garden like music.

We talked. About Miami. About the chaos the won used to cause down there. About Margaret missing those days a little—the freedom of causing trouble and getting away with it because money and connections made consequences optional.

And listening to them talk about it, about the wildness, the recklessness, the absolute freedom of doing whatever the fuck they wanted and facing zero repercussions—

Sothing clicked.

Days of causing trouble and getting away with it.

That sounded fucking fun.

Margaret was describing so party they'd crashed in South Beach. How they'd walked in like they owned the place, drank the most expensive champagne, flirted with everyone, caused absolute chaos, and walked out before anyone could even ask who invited them. No consequences. No fallout.

Just pure chaotic fun backed by enough money and confidence that nobody questioned their right to be there.

"I miss those days a little," Margaret admitted, smiling at the mory. "Not the danger. Not the kidnapping or the violence. But that feeling of... invincibility? Like nothing could touch us because we were untouchable?"

Amanda nodded. "We were terrible. Absolutely terrible. But it was fun being terrible."

Reyna laughed. "I wish I could've seen it. You all sound like you were living in a movie."

"Oh, we were," Amanda confird. "A very expensive, very illegal movie."

And I sat there, listening to them reminisce about causing trouble and getting away with it because money and power made consequences optional.

And thought: I have more money than they did. More power. More influence. More resources.

Why the fuck am I not causing trouble?

I had the wealth to walk into any party, any club, any event in Los Angeles. Had the looks to turn heads. Had the abilities to make any woman I wanted fall for . Had the business empire to deflect consequences. Had the political connections to make problems disappear.

I could do exactly what they did in Miami. But bigger. Bolder. More systematic.

Ti to turn LA into a city of cuckolds.

Every unsatisfied wife in Beverly Hills. Every frustrated girlfriend in Santa Monica. Every woman trapped in diocre relationships with diocre n who didn't deserve them.

Ti to liberate them all.

Walk into their lives. Their marriages. Their boring relationships with n who'd stopped trying years ago.

Seduce them. Satisfy them. Show them what they'd been missing. Ruin them for their husbands and boyfriends so completely that going back felt like downgrading from a Rolls-Royce to a bicycle.

And get away with it.

Because who the fuck was going to stop ? The husbands who rolled over instead of fighting? The boyfriends who'd rather post on Reddit than confront in person? The fathers who cared more about stock portfolios than their daughters' happiness?

Nobody.

I'd cause trouble. Systematic, calculated, satisfying trouble.

And I'd get away with all of it.

Margaret caught my expression. Raised an eyebrow. "What are you thinking about?"

I grinned. "Just realizing that causing trouble and getting away with it sounds like exactly the kind of fun I should be having."

Amanda laughed. "Oh no. We've inspired him."

"You absolutely have," I confird.

And I had the power, the money, the influence to do exactly that.

Ti to turn LA into a city of cuckolds. Ti to take every unsatisfied woman, every frustrated wife, every girlfriend trapped in diocre relationships with diocre n.

Ti to liberate them all.

And get away with it.

Because who the fuck was going to stop ?

[DING!]

Oh no.