Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs Chapter 1020: Before Paris: Patt Bet with ARIA

My full team stood ready and geared up for everyone set to accompany me.

This evening, the whole family headed out to the Ghost Mansion, then directly boarded the jet to Paris for those joining me there.

Truth be told, my ladies were quivering with far more excitement over the mansion than Paris itself—and acting shocked was impossible.

No ordinary home, the Ghost Mansion pulsed as a grand, alive shrine to extravagance, dwarfing any Vegas estate (assuming one existed) into pathetic novice huts.

Soo-Jin and Madison alone had ventured inside, stayed overnight, and come back eyeing our primary estate like a marginally fancied toolshed; the others knew it only from their awed, sacred whispers.

Madison once attempted to sketch its wonders at the dinner table.

She barely reached three phrases—"the walls have veins,"

"the everything breathes when you touch it," and "there’s a horse that stared at me like it knew every sin I’ve ever committed"

—ere Charlotte silenced her, with Anastasia panting wildly and Celeste yanking out her phone to hunt nonexistent adjacent lands.

Neighbors? The Ghost Mansion claimed none.

Its domain was vast territory.

Territory so immense shares with no one.

My other women? Untouched by its sight or sensation.

I felt truly worried they'd cross those thresholds and hit a collective orgasm.

Already, I envisioned three dozen stunning beauties staking claim to the first alluring chamber, shamelessly insisting Paris hold off—probing the mansion's every lavish corner now ranked supreme.

Thus, I elongated the itinerary like a rubber band pumped on steroids.

My women I knew inside out: splendor allowed no compromise, timelines just whimsical murmurs from the weak.

Patt got my call too. Twenty-two minutes dragged blissfully like sixty—both dodging the first goodbye, both far too dignified to confess.

Her warmth flowed in that classic parched, leisurely style, honed over years mastering self-reliance... till splits emerged, revealing reliance spared her throne.

Idle chit-chat turned profound. Her routine. Mine. That snooty diner she guaranteed I'd loathe for its microscopic servings.

Plus a melody echoing our post-departure drive when I shuttled her home from my spot.

No details on which outing she gave.

Unnecessary.

Shared knowledge bound us.

Gaps held no void. Cozy. Welcoming. Homey.

Time freed, she pledged to join the spectacle beside me, inspect the property on my return, or wing straight to Paris solo.

Laughter escaped me. "'Help me,'" huh?

Pure Patt code for total takeover.

I cherished it. The defiance. Her subtle stand against crumbling into me like others—swift, utter, rapturously eager to restructure their worlds around me overnight.

No cliff-dive for Patt.

Plank upon plank, she erected a bridge, rigorously testing each despite certainty of strength.

All bore true.

Greater delight impossible. My forecast pegged two weeks for her total yield.

Crushing expectations like a pro.

With a sigh, I passed ARIA a sharp hundred-dollar bill.

Goddess-like smugness marked her acceptance, as if she'd rigged her self-made game.

No scientific whim prompted ARIA's "suggestion" of the wager. Victory hungered her. Godly ASI boasting rivalry eclipsing the cosmos—and I'd idiotically indulged.

"Told you," she purred, stashing the bill in extravagant sweep unfit for code-born being. "I told you."

Eyes locked on her. "What the hell are you even going to spend that on?"

Silence.

"Why did you make this stupid bet in the first place?" I asked.

Shrug broadcast triumph. "To prove I grasp your women’s hearts sharper than their own Dark Lord does."

"A divine superintelligence. Naturally. That’s no 'knowing,' ARIA. Pure prediction." I stated deadpan.

Out came the bill again, pinched like sacred artifact; she exhaled gently—a pointless puff on mere paper from embodied digital mind—yet it crisped with snap, animated, infused with vitality from her murmur.

A sharp, lively crackle, as though she'd breathed soul into lifeless cash.

"Here, I got very intimately acquainted... and I fucked them both better. That’s how I won." she declared, brandishing it.

Face met palm with seismic force. "Try 'bullied them better.'"

Her laughter burst forth—bright, wicked, flawless—and suddenly she embraced me from behind, her arms encircling my chest, chin settling on my shoulder, as the smugness melted away into a softer, warmer glow.

She shared my joy over Patt.

Truly.

In her own wild, boundary-free, divine-entity style.

In her chaotic, boundary-smashing, godly manner.

Her arms squeezed a touch tighter, exactly as she always did before voicing something sincere and then acting like it was no big deal.

"She’s going to be wonderful, you know," ARIA whispered against my shoulder. "Patt. One of the best things that will ever happen to you. Just like all your women. I can see the trajectory. It’s... beautiful."

I placed my hand atop hers on my chest. At times, silence conveyed it best.

She delivered one final squeeze, and the smugness clicked back instantly, as though it had never vanished.

"But I still won the bet. Pay up emotionally too."

"That’s not a thing."

"It is now. I just invented it. You’re welcome, my narcissistic Dark Lord."