Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 862

Chapter 862: Little Prayers: Rory’s God

Author’s Note

Alright... if you made it this far?

You’re officially one of the real ones.

Thank you for reading through this arc—through all the technical stuff, the heavy world-building, the setup, and the main character awakening. I know this part was dense, but trust me... every detail mattered. Every scene was a brick in the foundation of what comes next.

Because from here on out?

We’re not walking anymore.

We’re sprinting.

The story is about to go full throttle: beauties, CEOs, luxury, sex-power games...and now?

Gods. Goddesses. Money. Madness.

But wait... it gets better.

Because the next arc isn’t just about power.

It’s about legacy.

Linda finally gets pregnant. 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

And Peter?

Peter steps into his new era...

Fatherhood.

Not just once either.

More father.More heirs.More chaos.More bloodlines.

More destinies being born into wealth, divinity, and danger.

This is where everything shifts.

So take a breath.Stretch your fingers.Sip your drink.

And buckle up...

Because the next arc?

It’s going to be hot, violent, luxurious, and unhinged.

And yes...

the God of Harem era is officially loading. 😈🔥👑

****

"None of those." I leaned in again, lowering my voice like I was about to reveal classified celestial information. "I’m a different kind."

Her eyes widened.

"I’m the kind that grants wishes."

"Wishes?"

"Wishes. But only special wishes."

Her whole face shifted into suspicion again, like she’d just heard an influencer say ’This is not sponsored.’

"What makes them special?"

"They have to come from women. Mothers, especially." I held up a finger. "And—especially especially—from cute little girls."

She clapped her hands together, bouncing faster now like she’d just unlocked a rare achievement.

"I’m a little girl! And Mama says I’m cute!"

"Your mama is clearly a woman of excellent judgment," I said, like I was reviewing her on Yelp.

"So, you’ll grant my wish?"

"That depends." I crossed my arms, putting on a mock-serious expression. The kind of expression men put on when they say ’I’m emotionally unavailable’ and think it makes them mysterious instead of medically concerning.

"First, I need to know your name. Gods have rules about these things."

"Aurora," she said proudly. "But everyone calls me Rory. Except when I’m in trouble, and then Mama uses my whole name."

She leaned closer and whispered the last part like it was a curse. "Aurora Maria Porter. That’s how I know I’m in big trouble."

"Aurora Maria Porter," I repeated solemnly, like I was reading the name of a fallen warrior. "That’s a beautiful name."

She beamed. Then her expression shifted, her eyes narrowing with renewed curiosity.

"What’s your name? Do gods have names?"

"We do." I nodded. "Mine is Eros."

"Eros," she repeated, testing it out on her tongue. Her brows furrowed. "That’s a weird name."

"Rude," I said flatly.

"It’s pretty, though." She shrugged, like she was doing me a favor. "Weird but pretty. Like you."

I laughed—a real, genuine laugh that surprised me with its warmth. This kid. This ridiculous, wonderful kid. She was roasting me with the casual confidence of a talk show host who knows the audience is on her side.

"Rory, I think we’re going to be friends."

"We’re already friends," she said matter-of-factly, like the decision had been signed into law. "I decided when I was looking at you. You have kind eyes."

Something in my chest tightened.

Kind eyes?

Children saw things adults missed. They didn’t see the money or the power or the carefully constructed social masks people wore like designer suits. They saw something simpler. Truer. The kind of thing celebrities spent millions trying to manufacture with PR teams, charity donations, and staged paparazzi photos of them holding a baby they definitely returned afterward.

"So about this god thing," Rory said, her suspicious look returning. "How do I know you’re not just making it up? Adults lie sometimes. Mama says it’s because they forget how to play pretend properly."

"Obviously." She put her hands on her hips in an eerily adult gesture. The posture of someone who had already emotionally fired me. "I’m not just gonna believe any stranger who says they’re a god. That’s how you get tricked."

Also, mildly alarming that she’d already considered the possibility of being scammed by random divine men in restaurants, but... still. Smart kid.

"Not inside," I said smoothly. "Fire code. Apparently the staff gets nervous when you start levitating near the dessert menu. The last thing I need is to get sued by a restaurant because a god violated OSHA regulations."

"Can you—" She gasped suddenly, like she’d remembered the most important question in human history. "Can you do magic? Like real magic? Not the pulling-coins-from-ears stuff, that’s just tricks. Real magic."

"Real magic," I said slowly. "Hmm."

"WHOA!"

"That’s—that’s—" She was pointing at my hand, then at my face, then at my hand again, words failing her completely. "HOW DID YOU—YOUR HAND WAS—IT WAS DOING THE—"

"DO IT AGAIN! DO IT AGAIN!"

I obliged. Faster this time. My hand blurred so completely it became almost transparent, moving at a frequency that human eyes couldn’t track. If anyone else had seen it, I would’ve been on the evening news by sunrise—Local Man Breaks Physics, Restaurant Still Charges Him for Dessert.

"OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH."

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