Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 1036

Chapter 1036: Through: Nyxire

I didn’t warn them.

Of course I didn’t. Where’s the fun in spoiling my own masterpiece?

The van kept accelerating like it had somewhere better to be than the pathetic little world we were leaving behind. Thirty faces—my glorious, chaotic harem of goddess perfection—froze in real time.

Conversations strangled themselves mid-sentence.

Laughter got executed on the spot. Heads snapped toward that glorious 180-degree windshield where the cliff yawned open like the universe itself was bored of their mortal nonsense and ready to swallow them whole.

Genevieve clutched Maya’s arm like it owed her money. Margaret’s eyes shot open from her massage chair faster than she’d ever reacted to anything that wasn’t a direct order from me. Charlotte’s hand locked on her tablet like the damn thing could save her.

Amanda—Amanda, the woman who’d rather die than close her laptop—slammed it shut and braced like a good little soldier.

Then Mom hit me with the nuclear "Peter—"

That voice. That sweet, soul-crushing mom voice that somehow survived supernatural harems, interdimensional real estate, and my ever-expanding god-complex. It still made me feel like a delinquent sixteen-year-old who’d just set the garage on fire.

Adorable.

The van hit the edge.

Reality bubbled.

The windshield melted into liquid madness—colors stretching like cheap taffy in the hands of a sadistic deity. The cabin vibrated straight into everyone’s bones, bypassing ears entirely and going for the marrow like a proper cosmic bully.

Gravity took a quick vacation.

For one beautiful, weightless second, thirty of the most beautiful women on Earth floated like elegant balloons—hair lifting, bodies rising, crystal glassware hovering, ARIA’s chandelier strands spreading like a frozen firework that even I had to admit looked dramatic as hell.

Then we punched through.

The bubble popped. Gravity remembered its job. Wheels kissed ancient stone—pale, flawless, older than your ancestors’ excuses—and the ride turned silk-smooth again.

The windshield cleared, and the world on the other side laughed in the face of everything they thought they knew.

A driveway of pure arrogance stretched ahead beneath cathedral oaks. Golden light dripped through leaves so perfectly arranged they looked photoshopped by a god with taste.

The grass? Impossibly green. Every blade the same height, maintained with the kind of psychotic precision that made surgeons look sloppy. The air itself tasted cleaner, older, smugger—like the Chasm had been the bouncer and this was the VIP lounge it had been guarding all along.

Nobody spoke.

They glued themselves to the windows like kids who’d just realized Santa was real and also slightly terrifying. Hands on glass. Breath fogging the tint. Mouths hanging open in the sacred silence of mortals realizing they’d just driven through a hole in reality and landed somewhere that made their entire previous lives look like a budget PowerPoint presentation.

Margaret broke first, voice barely a whisper. "I forgive everything," she breathed. "Every bus. Every vote. Every uncomfortable moment I just went through right now. Forgiven."

Patricia’s hand stayed glued to Margaret’s belly while the other pressed flat against the hers. Her face wore that rare, beautiful expression she gets when something refuses to be organized, filed, or controlled.

She stared at the impossible perfection and then looked at me through the glass. Her lips moved silently: My God.

Luna was awake now—headphones abandoned, glasses shoved into her hair like she needed zero obstructions to witness my glory. Maria sat beside her, mother and daughter gripping hands, watching the driveway unfold like it was the first honest thing they’d ever seen.

Neither bothered looking at me.

This moment was theirs, and I, in my infinite generosity, allowed it.

Then the mansion revealed itself.

Grey stone rising like it owned the concept of majesty. Mirrored walls catching the dying light and throwing it back with interest.

I let them go. Generous Dark Lord privileges.

Madison, of course, stayed glued to my side. Arm looped through mine, body pressed against my shoulder—not because she was overwhelmed, she’d walked these halls before, but because she chose to.

"Stables," I confirmed, because even gods have priorities.

I’d missed this place. I hadn’t admitted it out loud—I’m not that weak—but the pull had been there, low and constant, a thread tied between my ribs and the mansion’s ancient foundation. The LA estate was home. The penthouse was home. Wherever my women slept was home.

And the mansion knew it too. The stone warmed faster beneath my feet. Lights brightened just for me. The air shifted into warm pockets that moved with me instead of against me.

The gardens didn’t just shift—they leaned, like sunflowers tracking their rightful sun.

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