My Milf Conqueror System novel Chapter 61

Chapter 61: Tomorrow

Tuesday, 10:00 AM. Sterling Manor.

The winter sun was blinding, a harsh, unforgiving glare that reflected off the pristine, untouched snow covering the sprawling lawns of the Sterling estate. The temperature hovered in the single digits, the freezing air biting at my exposed skin, but I barely felt it. My blood was running hot, fueled by the adrenaline of the past twenty-four hours and the dark, thrumming energy of the system interface humming in the back of my mind.

I walked up the sweeping, heated cobblestone driveway, my breath pluming in the freezing air like dragon’s smoke. Sterling Manor loomed ahead of me, a massive, gothic-revival fortress of dark stone, wrought-iron gargoyles, and towering frosted-glass windows. It was a monument to old money, designed to make anyone approaching it feel small, insignificant, and entirely out of their depth.

But I wasn’t playing by their rules anymore.

I reached the massive, heavy oak front doors. Usually, one would ring the brass bell and wait for the butler to grant them entry, standing in the cold like a supplicant. I didn’t wait for the butler this time. I grabbed the heavy iron handles, pushed the doors open with a violent shove, and stepped into the cavernous, marble-floored foyer. My boots echoed loudly against the stone as I bypassed the grand staircase and walked straight toward the library.

The heavy double doors to the library were slightly ajar. I pushed them open and stepped inside. The room smelled of old paper, rich mahogany, and the sharp, smoky scent of birch wood burning in the massive stone hearth.

Victoria was sitting behind the massive antique desk, a sleek black phone pressed to her ear.

She was the absolute epitome of the Ice Queen. Even sitting down, she radiated a freezing, untouchable elegance. She was wearing a tailored, charcoal-gray power suit that hugged the sharp, aristocratic lines of her shoulders. Her platinum blonde hair was pinned up in a flawless, severe twist, exposing the long, graceful column of her neck.

She looked up as I entered, her ice-blue eyes narrowing into slits of pure, unfiltered irritation at the intrusion.

"I’ll have to call you back," she said smoothly into the receiver, her voice a cold, melodic whip. She hung up the phone without waiting for a response, setting it down on the polished wood with a sharp clack. She folded her manicured hands on the desk, her posture perfectly straight.

"I don’t recall giving you an open invitation to my home, Jake," Victoria said, her tone dropping the temperature in the room by ten degrees.

"You told me to remove an obstacle," I said, my voice a low, resonant rumble that carried easily over the crackle of the fireplace.

I walked to the center of the room, stopping just a few feet from the edge of her desk. I didn’t sit down in the plush leather guest chairs. I stood tall, letting the passive Authority aura of the [Shadow Tuxedo] fill the space between us. The system garment wasn’t just clothing; it was a psychological weapon. It absorbed the light around me, making my silhouette look sharper, broader, and infinitely more dangerous. The aura pressed against her natural CEO dominance like two tectonic plates grinding together.

"I’m here to report that the obstacle has been removed," I stated, holding her freezing gaze.

Victoria leaned back in her high-backed leather chair, her expression completely unreadable. But I could see the subtle, rapid rise and fall of her chest. The aura was affecting her, even if her pride refused to show it.

"Richard is still breathing," Victoria countered, her ice-blue eyes scanning my face for any sign of hesitation. "He’s still on the board. And according to my sources, he spent the weekend gathering votes to oust me at tomorrow’s meeting."

"He was," I corrected smoothly. "He isn’t anymore."

I reached into the inner pocket of my dark wool coat. Victoria’s eyes tracked the movement, a flicker of genuine tension tightening her jaw. I pulled out a small, black velvet box—the kind you might use to present a luxury watch or a piece of jewelry.

I walked the final two steps to her desk, reached across the mahogany, and placed the velvet box gently in the exact center of her pristine blotter.

Victoria looked down at the box, her perfectly sculpted eyebrow arching in suspicion. She looked back up at me. "What is this?"

"Open it."

She hesitated for a fraction of a second, a rare display of uncertainty. Then, she reached out. Her long, elegant fingers, tipped with immaculate nude polish, flipped the velvet lid open.

Inside, resting on the dark cushion, was a single, violently crushed microchip. It was the physical network interface controller, snapped in half, the silicon cracked and the gold pins bent out of shape.

"Richard built a prison," I said, my voice dropping to a dark, steady cadence. "He used a shell company called Blue Heron Holdings to funnel money, gather dirt, and blackmail three of your board members, including Arthur Davis. He was going to use them to vote you out."

Victoria’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch. For the Ice Queen, it was the equivalent of a dramatic gasp. Her lips parted slightly, exposing a flash of white teeth. "Blackmail? Richard?"

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