Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs novel Chapter 876

Chapter 876: Religious Practice

The smell of breakfast filled the Carter mansion.

Not the usual breakfast—not Linda’s really good pancakes or the Homebots’ efficient, good but soulless nutrition optimization.

This was something else entirely; Peter’s cooking.

And it was, as always, divine.

He stood at the stove, shirtless because the kitchen ran hot and because he could, flipping the last of the French toast while eggs sizzled in another pan and bacon crisped to perfection in a third. Muscles shifted beneath golden skin with each movement.

The kitchen had become his domain for the morning, and he moved through it with the same fluid grace he brought to everything else now.

Linda sat at the table, looking better than she had last night but still fragile. Still processing. Still carrying their secret beneath her heart. Her eyes tracked her son’s movements—her son, her lover, the father of her unborn child—and something warm settled in her chest despite everything.

Jasmine sat beside her, completely oblivious. She had no idea how wild it actually was. Probably better that way until she joined the harem too.

Emma and Sarah had arrived an hour ago—they’d come immediately today, concern written across their faces, asking questions that Linda deflected with practiced ease. Just a fever. Just stress. Just needed rest.

Charlotte herself sat across from them, composed as always but watching Linda with knowing eyes. She understood more than she let on. She always did. Her fingers traced the rim of her coffee cup, elegant even in stillness.

Madison had come too, of course. She sat at the head of the table opposite Peter’s empty chair, territorial even in seating arrangements.

"Food’s ready," Peter announced, carrying plates to the table.

The reaction was immediate.

Emma’s fork cut into her French toast, and the sound she made was obscene. Head tilting back, eyes fluttering closed, a moan escaping her lips that belonged in a bedroom, not a breakfast table. "Oh my God, Peter. What did you put in this?"

"Love and attention to detail."

"Bullshit. This is witchcraft." Another bite. Another sound that made Jasmine shift uncomfortably in her seat. "Actual witchcraft."

Sarah was more restrained—barely. Her fork paused halfway to her mouth, and she just stared at the food like it had personally offended her by being too perfect. When she finally took a bite, her composure cracked. Shoulders dropping. Breath catching. A soft whimper she’d deny making later.

"How," she managed. "How do you do this every single time."

"Practice."

"You never cook that much. How is it practice?"

Madison laughed, cutting into her own portion with practiced elegance that dissolved the moment flavor hit her tongue. Her eyes widened. Her lips parted. For one unguarded moment, the Queen of Peter’s empire looked like a woman experiencing religious conversion through breakfast food.

"He’s been holding out on us," she said once she recovered. "All this time, he could’ve been feeding us like this, and instead we get Janet’s territorial kitchen wars and robot efficiency."

"Janet’s food is good," Peter protested, settling into his chair.

"Janet’s food is competent. This—" Madison gestured at her plate with her fork, a gesture that somehow remained regal despite the syrup dripping from the tines. "—this is a religious experience."

Even Jasmine, who had no context for the supernatural undertones of this household, was staring at her plate in wonder. Fork frozen mid-air. Jaw slack. The look of a woman reconsidering everything she thought she knew about food.

"Linda, why didn’t you tell me your son could cook like this now?"

Linda smiled softly, meeting Peter’s eyes across the table. Something electric passed between them. Something secret. Something that made her hand drift unconsciously toward her stomach before she caught herself.

"He’s full of surprises."

"Peter. This is... extraordinary."

"Thanks."

Because this was rare.

So each meal they got from him was rarer than the orgies themselves.

A breathtakingly beautiful woman.

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