Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 795

Chapter 795: Family

Mom either missed the subtext or chose to ignore it—nurse instincts prioritizing triage over teenage drama. "Inside. All of you. I made enough bacon to feed an army, and Jasmine’s already eaten half of it."

"Lies," Jasmine said, already steering Madison toward the door with an arm around her shoulders. "I only ate a third. The rest is fair game."

They disappeared inside, Jasmine’s laugh trailing behind her like expensive perfume.

Soo-Jin fell into step beside me as we followed. Her voice came soft, professional, pitched for my ears only. "The aunt."

Not a question. An observation.

"The aunt," I confirmed.

"She want you."

"I know."

"Does Madison know?"

"Is there anything Madison doesn’t know about women who wants me?"

Soo-Jin processed this for exactly 1.3 seconds. "Your life complicated."

"My life is a fucking soap opera with supernatural elements and a financial empire." I paused at the threshold. "But yeah. Complicated works too."

Mom’s house smelled like bacon and coffee and home—that specific combination of scents that couldn’t be replicated or manufactured, only earned through years of Saturday mornings and burnt toast and arguments about whose turn it was to do dishes. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

The mansion was still new to us. Three months old, bought with money that still felt imaginary even though ARIA assured me it was very, very real. Tudor-style exterior, five bedrooms, actual marble countertops instead of the laminate we’d grown up with. A far cry from the cramped grandma house.

Jasmine had commandeered the kitchen island, perched on a stool with her bare legs crossed, coffee cup in hand like she was holding court. Madison slid onto the stool beside her—close enough that their shoulders brushed, close enough that Jasmine’s grin turned sharp and interested.

"So," Jasmine said, eyes tracking me as I entered. "Those bikes. The matching black tactical gear. The Korean girl who looks like she could kill someone with a look." She gestured at Soo-Jin with her coffee cup. "No offense."

"None taken." Soo-Jin’s voice was flat. "I could."

Jasmine blinked. Laughed. "I like her. Even though you compared me to her."

"Everyone does." I moved to the coffee pot, poured myself a cup of liquid survival. "Eventually."

Mom emerged from the pantry with a carton of eggs, nurse-eyes doing that thing where she assessed everyone’s vital signs without looking like she was doing it. The time on leave hadn’t dulled her instincts—if anything, having nothing to do but worry about her family had sharpened them to a razor edge.

"Peter, honey, sit. You look like you haven’t slept."

"I slept."

"You napped." She cracked eggs into a bowl with practiced efficiency—the movements of someone who’d been making breakfast for her children since they were too small to reach the stove, and would keep doing it until arthritis or death stopped her.

"There’s a difference. Jasmine, stop flirting with your nephew’s girlfriend."

"I’m not flirting." Jasmine’s voice was pure innocence wrapped in sin. "I’m bonding. Girl talk. Very wholesome."

"Your version of wholesome gives me hives."

Madison laughed—that low, genuine sound that hit me somewhere in the chest every time I heard it. "She’s fine, Moth- —Linda. We’re discussing the finer points of motorcycle aesthetics."

"Uh-huh." Mom wasn’t buying it. Didn’t need to. She’d raised me; she knew exactly how much bullshit could hide behind innocent smiles. "Soo-Jin, dear, do you eat eggs?"

"Yes, ma’am." Soo-Jin had positioned herself near the kitchen entrance—covering sight lines to the front and back doors without looking like she was doing it. Professional. Paranoid. Mine. "Thank you."

"Good. Because I’m have enough to feed everyone and their secrets." She shot me a look that said she knew about the secrets even if she didn’t know what they were. "Peter. Sit. Now."

I sat.

Some powers transcended the supernatural. Mom-voice was one of them.

Jasmine leaned forward on the counter, crop top gaping in ways that were definitely intentional. "So. Tommy."

"Trouble in something." I set my coffee down. "He’s spiraling. She’s... I don’t know what she is. But it’s not good, and he’s texting me like I’m his relationship therapist."

"I’m a teenage god with a superiority complex and exactly zero healthy relationship templates to draw from." I shrugged. "So yeah, apparently I’m everyone’s relationship therapist now. Makes perfect sense."

Jasmine watched this exchange with an expression I couldn’t quite read—something between fascination and jealousy and wanting. Her legs uncrossed and recrossed.

"Right," Mom said, voice determinedly cheerful. "Eggs are almost done. Jasmine, set. Peter, pour juice. Madison, you’re on toast duty. Soo-Jin—" She paused, clearly trying to figure out how to assign domestic tasks to someone who looked like she’d rather be cleaning weapons. "Would you like to supervise?"

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