Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 1029

Chapter 1029: The Harem Bus

Margaret burst out laughing from the van window she’d already claimed. Patricia followed — a crack in her composure that split into a full laugh she tried and failed to hide behind her hand.

Celeste joined them with a bright, musical cackle that carried across the driveway.

Only after the laughter erupted did Emma realize she’d said that out loud — her thumb freezing mid-scroll, eyes going wide, mouth forming a small oh as the implications caught up with her.

"I am going to kill you, young girl," Mom said, but Emma was already running, phone still in hand, laughing as she sprinted toward the van with the zero-apology energy of a daughter who knew her mother wouldn’t actually kill her and was fully prepared to test that theory to its absolute limit.

Mom’s belly — round, visible now, carrying my child — bounced slightly as she took a step to chase Emma, then stopped, one hand on her stomach, the other pointing at the van with the specific maternal fury of a woman who was too pregnant to sprint but not too pregnant to remember.

"When I catch you, Emma Carter—"

"You won’t Ma!" Emma’s voice came from inside the van, already sealed behind tinted glass, already safe, already grinning.

Sarah sighed — deep, tired, the sigh with acknowledgment of the mature twin who’d been saying the same thing for years and had accepted that our family simply wasn’t listening — and stepped into the van. "I always tell them they spoil Emma way too much. But no one ever listens to me, do they?"

Nobody answered her. Which was, in itself, the answer.

The inside of the van was worse than the outside. Worse meaning better.

ARIA had taken the concept of ground transportation and decided it was personally offensive to her standards.

The interior opened up into a space that had no business existing inside something with wheels — wide, long, bathed in ambient light that pulsed softly along the floor in strips of cool white, guiding the eye down a central aisle flanked by seats that weren’t seats.

They were thrones.

Quilted white leather, diamond-stitched, with integrated armrests containing touch-screen controls for climate, lighting, massage, and entertainment.

Each seat had its own fold-out table — dark wood polished to a mirror finish — with crystal glassware already set and chilled water beading on bottles that belonged in a five-star hotel rather than a vehicle moving at highway speed.

The ceiling held a chandelier-style light installation — thousands of fiber-optic strands cascading from a recessed panel, each one shimmering independently, creating a canopy of soft, shifting light that made the cabin feel like the inside of a constellation.

A massive curved screen dominated the rear wall, currently displaying a live aerial feed of the route ahead so crisp it felt like a window into a better version of reality.

Dark wood trim along the walls and ceiling matched the tables, broken by panels of brushed chrome and tinted glass windows that dimmed or cleared at a touch.

Throw pillows in silver and charcoal sat in every seat.

The floor was heated. The air smelled like something between fresh linen and night-blooming jasmine — ARIA had clearly programmed the scent profile, because no vehicle in human history had ever smelled this good by accident.

A private section at the rear was curtained off — heavy velvet, charcoal, soundproofed — and behind it sat an actual bedroom with an actual queen-sized bed, sheets already turned down.

ARIA was nothing if not thorough in her anticipation of my needs.

Margaret settled into her seat, pressed the massage button within four seconds of sitting down, and closed her eyes. "Okay," she said to no one in particular. "I forgive the bus."

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