Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs - Chapter 560

Chapter 560: The Art of Hostile Affection
A/N: Oh, guys this is not a mistake in update, read it.

The cafeteria was a goddamn jungle of noise and cheap perfume. Madison’s hand was a warm, proprietary weight on my thigh, a claim staked in public.

Tommy was inhaling his third burger, a feat of human engineering that Mia watched with the mixture of awe and quiet resignation usually reserved for natural disasters. Across from us, Emma and Sarah were locked in a spirited debate with Ashley and Reeves over some TikTok drama that felt like it was being broadcast in a different language.

It was Sofia’s arrival that broke the fragile peace. She slid in next to Madison, all effortless grace. “Sorry, AP Chem ran—”

“Well, well.” Lea’s voice didn’t just cut through the noise; it froze it. She stood ten feet from our table, her lunch tray gripped in white-knuckled hands like a shield. “The harem’s assembled. Does Torres coordinate the schedule, or do you all just show up hoping for the best?”

The table went silent. Tommy stopped mid-chew.

Madison didn’t even look up from her phone. “Can we help you, Martinez?”

“Just admiring the efficiency,” Lea said, her eyes sweeping over the table like it was a contaminated petri dish. “Sofia Delgado. Madison Torres. Peter Carter. The holy trinity of Lincoln High’s declining academic standards.”

Her gaze landed on me, sharp and cold as broken glass. “Tell me, Carter, does fucking your way through Lincoln High’s social registry leave any time for actual studying? Or have you simply accepted that you’ll never be more than mediocre?”

Emma’s fork clattered against her tray. Sarah’s eyes went wide.

“You missed the entire quantum mechanics unit last week,” she continued, her voice rising slightly.

“Teach actually asked if you’d transferred. But I saw you. You were just… busy.” Her gaze flicked to Madison, then Sofia, a dismissive, contemptuous sweep. “My question is: when you inevitably fail out, which girlfriend hires you? Or is the plan to coast on Torres money until you’re forty and your hairline recedes?”

“Yo, Lea—” Tommy started, a warning in his tone.

“Was I interrupting your front-row seat to the Peter Carter Experience?” she asked him without breaking eye contact with me. A smile that was all teeth and no warmth stretched her lips.

“How does it feel, Tommy? Watching your best friend become everything you two used to mock? One of those guys. The ones who peaked in high school and thought a new car made them interesting?”

Mia, bless her heart, reached over and grabbed Tommy’s hand under the table.

Lea turned back to me, her voice dropping to a low, venomous hiss. “You were actually smart once, Carter. I saw it. Before whatever this is.” She gestured vaguely at my clothes, my watch, the entire table. “Now you’re just another rich kid coasting on Madison daddy’s money and cheekbones. It’s pathetic.”

The word hung in the air. Pathetic.

I met her eyes, holding her gaze. I saw the lie. Beneath the oversized hoodie and the defensive anger, I could see her chest rising and falling too fast. Behind her glasses, her eyes weren’t just cold; they were shimmering, glassy, like she was holding back a tidal wave of tears with sheer force of will.

“You done?”

She laughed, a sharp, brittle sound. “Yeah. Enjoy your kingdom, Carter. Try not to fail too publicly.” She turned and walked out of the cafeteria, her tray still in her hands.

Madison’s hand tightened on my thigh. “Jesus. What did we even do to her one of these days?”

“Existed, apparently,” Sofia muttered, her voice soft.

“That was…” Emma started, staring after her.

“Fucking insane,” Ashley finished for her. “She looked like she wanted to murder you and fuck you simultaneously.” Her eyes glint hiding her own desires. Our shared moment in the car.

Tommy finally found his voice. “Bro. What the hell?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. I knew exactly what that performance was about.

And I knew, with absolute certainty, that it would get a hell of a lot worse before it got better.

****

Two days later, I was in the library during my free period. Alone. Not because I had to be, but because I genuinely wanted relaxing.

The book slamming down on the table was so loud it made the three people in the adjacent row jump. The sound echoed in the sacred quiet like a gunshot.

Lea stood over me, a tower of icy composure. Her dark bun was perfect, not a single hair out of place. Her glasses reflected the sterile fluorescent lights, hiding her eyes.

“Read it.”

She dropped a printed manuscript on the table in front of me. It was thick, three hundred pages bound with black clips. The title was stark: Non-Locality and Quantum Information Theory: A Framework Analysis by Dr. Eric Vance.

“Okay?” I said, feigning confusion.

“Cover to cover. Every word,” she commanded, her voice as clinical as a surgeon’s. “I’m tired of watching you pretend to understand concepts that are clearly beyond your grasp. It’s embarrassing. For both of us.”

I flipped it open. The margins were filled with her handwriting—tiny, precise blue ink. Notes, corrections, entire paragraphs of insight scribbled beside the printed text.

“The annotations are mine,” she stated, as if reading my mind. “They explain what your inadequate sex-filled brain failed to cover. Read them. Study them. Memorize them.” She crossed her arms. “If you’re going to sit in advanced physics, you will at least pretend to understand the material instead of just looking decorative.”

“Why do you care if I—”

“I don’t care about you,” she cut me off, her voice flat. “I care about my learning environment. If you’d ask stupid questions, it wastes class time. When you fumble answers, it will lowers the entire discourse. Teach will slow down for your lack of foundation, and everyone suffers. This,” she tapped the manuscript, “is me protecting my education from your presence.”

“You spent time annotating three hundred pages just to protect your education?” I asked, leaning back in my chair, smirking.

“Three hours,” she snapped. “Because fixing your ignorance is faster and more pleasant than enduring another semester of your stupidity.” She didn’t blink. “The problem sets are in the appendix. Do them. All. When you inevitably get stuck, which you will, find me in the library after sixth period on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I’ll explain what you’re too dense to figure out for yourself.”

“You’re offering to tutor me?”

“I’m minimizing the damage you’re doing to my academic experience,” she corrected, her voice sharp. “Don’t confuse that with altruism. You used to try, Carter. Before spring break. Before… whatever happened to you. Now you just coast on looking pretty and hope nobody notices you’re empty.”

“Lea—”

“Read it,” she ordered, turning away. She paused after a single step, not looking back. “And don’t thank me. Don’t apologize. Don’t do whatever pathetic emotional thing you’re planning. This isn’t kindness. It’s pest control.”

Then she disappeared into the stacks, leaving me alone with three hundred pages of her brilliance.

I flipped to the first page. At the top, in her sharp, precise handwriting, was a single, scrawled note.

“Start here, idiot. Don’t skip ahead. Linear progression matters even for brains as slow as yours. —L”

Tommy slid into the chair across from me. “Dude. She looked pissed.”

“She’s always pissed.”

“She just gave you a whole ass textbook. With her notes.”

“To make her own life easier, apparently.”

“Bro. Nobody does that just to ‘protect their learning environment.’ That’s insane.”

“That’s Lea.”

“That’s Lea in denial,” He grinned. “She wants you. Can’t admit it without her brain exploding.”

He wasn’t wrong. But Lea would rather burn the school down than say it out loud.

I was going to enjoy this one!

****

The next morning, Jack cornered me at my locker. He and his three football-player-sized rejects flanked him like discount bodyguards, their shadows falling below my godly form.

It was a testament to his utter stupidity that he was still doing this. The entire school knew I’d beaten him senseless at the Lincoln Club. Publicly. Slapped him like a child, broken his wrist. His parents were in a messy divorce. He was a neutered dog.

Yet here he was.

“Heard you’re running a charity now,” Jack said, that same arrogant, punchable grin plastered on his face. “Taking in the desperate and the damaged. Very philanthropic, Carter.”

I didn’t look up from my locker. My patience was a frayed thread. “Walk away, Morrison.”

“Why would I do that?” His grin widened as his eyes flickered down the hall. I followed his gaze.

Sofia was there, walking toward us with Ashley and Mia. The second she saw Jack, her whole body went rigid. The color drained from her face.

Jack’s smile turned predatory. The way he looked at her—like she was still a piece of property he owned—made something dark and violent twist in my gut.

“Sofia!” he called out, his voice oozing false charm. “Haven’t seen you in a while. You look good. Real good. We should catch up sometime—”

My hand shot out and grabbed the front of his shirt, slamming him back against the lockers with a deafening crash. The metal groaned, denting under the impact. His crew froze.