Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs Chapter 1008: Race: Mother-In-Law’s Madness

A fleeting blush betrayed her, surging up her neck to tinge her cheeks before she crushed it with unyielding determination.

Yet it occurred. And we were both aware.

"Fine," she replied, her tone sharp and businesslike, though the lingering rose on her face exposed her. "One game."

"That’s all I need."

"So," Maria declared, slipping on her gloves with the icy accuracy of a surgeon poised to reshape fate, "how does this work?"

"You drive. You try to beat me."

"I’m being generous with the wording."

Her gaze shifted to me, then to the kart, then returned to me.

Suddenly, the fierce spark she had likely suppressed since med school blazed in her eyes, intense, ruthless, and vibrantly fierce.

"I should warn you," she stated, easing into the kart with an elegance that seemed out of place in a machine designed for velocity and aggression. "I don’t lose."

"Neither do I."

"One of us is lying."

"It’s you."

Her eyes narrowed into threatening lines. Her lips quivered from holding back a smile. She pulled the harness over her chest and secured it with a firm snap, like a warrior gearing up for battle.

"Start the race," she commanded. "Before I recall I’m supposed to despise you and leave."

ARIA’s smooth voice echoed from the track speakers, velvety like tainted nectar:

Maria’s head whipped toward the closest speaker as if it had offended her heritage. "Did your track just"

"She does that to everyone. Don’t take it personally."

ARIA purred.

Maria fixed her stare on the speaker, then on me, and then—for the first instance since charging into my estate like a stylish catastrophe—she laughed.

Brief, surprised, torn from her before her rigid control could silence it. That sound struck me like an intoxicant because my approach was succeeding and ARIA had just aided in unraveling Maria further with her wicked delight.

She extinguished it right away, forcing her expression back to its usual mask of strict parental judgment. But the impact lingered.

The fissure had grown.

"Start the race," she repeated, softer now, struggling against the grin plotting to conquer her mouth.

The lights over the starting grid flashed. Red. Red. Red.

Green.

Maria proved a sheer menace.

I had no idea what to anticipate—careful, methodical handling, the safety-focused exactness of a healer who daily warns of the body’s fragility.

Instead, a woman raced as if runner-up had slain her pet from youth and she refused to accept it.

She would truly bond well with Anastasia and Sophia... I simply need to welcome her into my harem!

She had already exploded from the grid by the moment I ended my monologue, with a roar of electric rage that made me flinch.

Rear thrusters flared, kart lunging ahead as if in her debt.

She assaulted the initial corner at a velocity destined for disaster, yet she dove deep, slicing the apex with precise ferocity, tires scarcely murmuring on the surface.

I trailed by two kart lengths before my mind registered the truth.

I grumbled, and floored the accelerator fully. It was a race... no reason to send the opponent off unsatisfied when fun was the goal.

The opening lap unfolded as utter, stunning mayhem.

The Homebots designed the circuit to favor insanity over rote—boost pads blinking like deceitful glows, brutal shifts in height that penalized doubt and favored the reckless.

LED lines lit the barriers blue for leader, red for follower. Currently, blue illuminated the path before me while red encircled my pride like a direct affront.

Maria was winning.

She conquered Turn Four on the steep bank at maximum throttle, kart leaning at a pitch that had my gut protesting her unfair skill, then hammered the exit boost so fiercely the surge drew a wild, thrilled yell from her.

Not terror.

Sheer, unrestrained bliss.

I must reassess her against Catherine’s frenzy... not Patricia’s poise and elegance.

"WHAT IS THIS THING?!" she bellowed, voice torn by gales and tossed back in tantalizing bits as I trailed closely through the glowing passage. Dr. Maria—esteemed doctor, fortified parent, arrival here to methodically ruin my world—was howling like a stunning, deranged antagonist.

I drew even on the rear straightaway, karts nearly touching. Via her visor, her eyes shone—vast, untamed, charged with thrill unrelated to healing, parenting, or ethical high ground.

She glanced my way.

I met her gaze.

She bared a broad, savage, rivalry-fueled smile full of insanity... and intentionally swerved toward me.

Not to crash us. Merely to nudge my kart off line, bleed my momentum, and spin me into the upcoming bend while she sped forward, cackling like a demon embracing thrill-seeking.

"DID YOU JUST—" I yelled.

"SORRY NOT SORRY!" she hollered in reply. No remorse whatsoever. She was the most unrepentant being on the planet right then. "MUST HAVE SLIPPED!"

"THAT WAS DELIBERATE!"

"PROVE IT!"

I couldn’t resist. I burst into laughter—profound, from the gut, the sort born deep within when grasping that the woman aiming to shatter your bond could be the greatest amusement in ages.

Lap two.

I overtook her in the corkscrew—a twisting drop that prized bold attacks and scorned restraint.

She faltered for a split instant. That sufficed. I slipped inside on the way out, claimed the ideal path, and edged ahead by half a kart.

The circuit bathed me in blue instantly. Her in red.

"NO!" she thundered, real fury fracturing her tone—the cry of someone unaccustomed to defeat, tasting it as profound, inexcusable treachery.

She pursued me as if I’d taken her child.

The velocity stretch showcased ARIA’s and Homebots’ cruel brilliance: three boost pads chained, building speed until reality blurred into neon trails and raw rush.

Maria nailed every one like a force of nature.

I hit two.

She blasted by on Turn Nine’s outer edge—a deadly trajectory defying logic—due to her fanatical resolve that physics could be damned today.

She shrieked through the entire curve. No coherent words. Just visceral, ancient noise—decades of pent-up tension erupting in spectacular, wild freedom.

I laughed until I almost scraped the barrier.