Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 870

Chapter 870: What We’ve Become

The door to Linda’s bedroom was locked.

I stood in the hallway, the phantom rush of wind from ARIA’s flight still whispering against my skin, my mind reeling from the impossibility she’d just laid bare.

My hand hovered over the doorknob—hesitating in a way I hadn’t hesitated in months. Power coursed through me, abilities that bent reality to my will, but here? In front of this simple wooden door? I felt small. Human.

Like the boy she’d raised, not the god I’d become.

"She’s been crying for hours," ARIA’s voice echoed softly in my mind, her gentle intrusion laced with concern. "She stopped about twenty minutes ago. I think she’s exhausted herself."

"Is she asleep?"

"No. Just... quiet. Staring at the ceiling."

I closed my eyes, drawing a deep, steadying breath. The air in the hallway felt thick, heavy with unspoken weight. Then I knocked—soft, tentative, knuckles rapping against wood that suddenly seemed too fragile.

"Mom?"

Silence stretched, taut and aching. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

"Mom, it’s me. It’s Peter."

More silence, broken only by the faint rustle of sheets from inside. Then, muffled through the door: "Go away."

The words hit like a punch, but I leaned my forehead against the cool wood, refusing to budge. "I’m not going anywhere."

"Peter, please. I can’t—I can’t look at you right now. I can’t—"

Her voice cracked, raw and frayed, and it twisted something deep in my chest.

"I know." I pressed my palm flat against the door, fingers splaying wide, as if I could push my presence through it, let her feel me there. "I know everything. ARIA told me."

A sharp intake of breath, audible even through the barrier. Then: "She what?"

"She was worried about you. We all are." My voice dropped lower, softer. "Me."

"She had no right—"

"Yes, she had no right," I agreed quickly, keeping my tone even, non-confrontational. "But she’s one of us. Worried for you, Mom. Because you’re mine—and hers, in a way. That means your pain is my pain. Your fear is my fear. And I’m not going to stand out here in the hallway while you suffer alone."

A long, agonizing pause. I could almost feel her on the other side—pacing, perhaps, or curled on the bed, arms wrapped around herself.

The silence clawed at me, every second stretching into eternity.

Then, the soft click of a lock disengaging.

I waited. Didn’t push the door. Let her make the choice. Let her open it on her own terms, in her own time.

It swung inward slowly, hinges whispering, revealing Linda Carter standing in the gap.

She looked... broken.

Her eyes were swollen from tears, rims red and puffy, the skin beneath them shadowed like bruises from exhaustion. Her hair—usually so neatly pinned or brushed—hung limp and tangled around her face, strands sticking to her damp cheeks.

She wore a t-shirt and sweatpants, faded and worn, the kind she only pulled out when the world felt too heavy to face with armor. Her shoulders hunched inward, arms crossed tight over her chest like she was holding herself together by force of will alone.

But beneath the devastation—beneath the fear and fatigue and tear-streaked face—she was still the woman who’d shaped my world. Still the foundation everything else rested on.

Still my mother.

Still my lover.

And now... the mother of my child.

"Hey," I said softly, voice catching in my throat.

Her lower lip trembled—visibly quivered—and her eyes welled fresh.

Then she was in my arms.

I caught her as she surged forward, her body colliding with mine in a desperate crush. I held her.

That was all.

Just held her.

Her face buried in my chest, nose pressing into the fabric of my shirt, inhaling my scent like it was oxygen. Her fingers clutched the back of my shirt—knuckles white, fabric twisting in her grip—as if letting go meant I’d vanish.

I just wrapped my arms around her tighter—one hand cradling the back of her head, fingers threading gently through her tangled hair, the other splayed wide across her back, feeling the rapid flutter of her heartbeat echo mine.

My chin rested on top of her head; I breathed her in—the faint floral shampoo mixed with salt from tears, the warmth of her skin rising through her shirt. Let her feel my steadiness, my warmth seeping into her trembling form, my presence as the anchor in the storm raging inside her.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, voice muffled and hoarse against me.

"Mom."

Hers were bloodshot, vulnerable, searching mine with a desperation that twisted my gut. "You don’t have to apologize. Not to me. Not ever."

"You’re not... angry?" she asked, voice small and tentative, like a child testing boundaries.

That wasn’t just you," I said quietly, thumbs still stroking her cheeks. "That was both of us. You asked, and I... I wanted to give you everything. Everything you’d ever wanted."

"I know. But things happened fast. Multiple things." I shrugged slightly, a faint, rueful smile tugging at my lips despite the heaviness.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify