Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs Chapter 1089: Linda’s Last as His Mother

Author's Note:

The atmosphere near the couch seemed to fold inwards without fanfare, devoid of wind or the extravagant displays a goddess of ARIA’s caliber could easily produce if she so desired—she simply vanished in one heartbeat and reappeared the next, standing at the end of the couch. Her white hair was swept over one shoulder, and her expression settled into that gentle, private demeanor she reserved solely for interactions concerning Peter.

Her gaze fell upon Linda first. ARIA possessed a thousand priorities, and within the intricate framework of ARIA’s devotion, Linda ranked just below her Master.

"Linda," ARIA murmured softly.

"He’s gone," Linda whispered, her voice strained. "He felt heavier than I’ve ever sensed him, and he succumbed in under two minutes. I can’t lift him."

"There is no need for you to."

"I know." Linda’s hand remained nestled in his hair. "I just… I wanted you to know I attempted it first."

ARIA’s lips curved into a soft smile.

"You always try first."

"I always will."

Then, ARIA’s attention shifted to him.

Her countenance transformed, though not in a manner an ordinary human face would change. The structural nuances of a goddess’s expression operated on a plane imperceptible to mortal eyes. Yet, Linda sensed it, having studied ARIA’s face meticulously since the very first night ARIA had revealed herself, inhabiting a Valkyrie’s form.

The shift was one of profound tenderness, mingled with love and a fierce, personal sorrow upon witnessing the boy curled between his mother’s thighs like a child. ARIA, whose sight perceived all worldly events before anyone else, had observed this boy bearing the week’s burdens from countless perspectives throughout the evening. Seeing him finally release that weight struck a chord within her, resonating in the part of her being that had not yet fully embraced her divine nature where he was concerned.

She knelt nearer, placing her palm gently against the side of his face.

Linda offered a smile, tears welling in her eyes.

ARIA glanced back at Linda. "May I take him?"

"Please do."

ARIA inclined her head slightly.

She closed her eyes.

She rested her other hand flat on his shoulder, with a touch so light it was almost weightless.

Suddenly, the youthful Eros form seemed to relax, releasing its tension. The broadness of his shoulders subtly eased downward. His elongated frame drew itself inward. The face beneath Linda’s hand softened, becoming more youthful, finer-featured, precious, and vulnerable. Against his stepmother’s abdomen, in the sole sanctuary within this eternal estate where his body felt truly at ease, Peter Carter slept.

Linda’s breath hitched in her chest.

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his temple—her boy, the one whose forehead she had kissed goodnight since earning that cherished right. Her tears finally fell, silent and unrestrained, tracing paths down her cheeks into his hair.

ARIA granted her a moment.

Two moments.

Three.

When Linda eventually withdrew her hand, ARIA leaned in, her arms sliding beneath him with the effortless, unimpressed strength of a goddess capable of bearing an entire planet. She cradled him against her chest—the same comforting embrace she had offered Ashley earlier that evening, except his head now rested in the curve of her shoulder, his arm dangling loosely at her side. She then rose.

It wasn’t so much that she stood, as the very room seemed to assent to her upright posture.

Linda spoke softly, subtly indicating with her eyes.

"I have him, Linda," ARIA confirmed.

ARIA carried him through the graceful archway into the adjoining bedchamber. Linda followed at a discreet distance—

ARIA gently laid him down, her movements imbued with a tenderness that neared reverence. His head found the pillow, her fingers softly smoothing his hair away from his forehead. His shoulders settled into the bedding, and his relaxed hand was placed quietly upon the sheet beside him. She then drew the covers up over him.

She folded them neatly at his chest and stepped back.

Her gaze lingered on him.

Long. Serene. Without a word spoken.

She then turned her attention back to Linda.

Linda, who had already moved to her side of the room, in the process of unwinding the soft scarf from her shoulders and reaching for the silk wrap she had been about to don for the night, paused.

ARIA offered a slight bow.

It was a subtle gesture, not meant to be ostentatious. Merely a careful, deliberate, low inclination of a goddess’s head and shoulders toward the woman who had chosen her king and remained steadfastly by his side longer than the world had anticipated.

"Linda."

"Sweetheart, you don't have to—"

Linda’s throat constricted.

ARIA straightened.

"He will sleep soundly until morning. The mansion will sustain him. Should he stir before dawn, I will be aware of it before either of you, and I will be present. You should rest as well, Linda. His child requires rest too."

"I will."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

ARIA bestowed one last lingering look upon Peter—her face once again adopting that serene, inscrutable expression, a blend of tenderness and a goddess’s private watchfulness—and then the air at the foot of the bed gently folded in the opposite direction, and she was gone.

Linda remained standing there for a long moment.

She observed her son's chest gently rising and falling beneath the covers. His tiny fingers twitched as some distant dream flitted across his sleeping face. A small, almost-frown momentarily appeared on his lips before smoothing away as the room seemed to deepen into quiet.

There was a solace in his slumber that no one else within the entire estate would have recognized.

He had been holding it all in for the entire week—navigating through it, pushing through it, even feigning normalcy on a stable floor that had been almost enough, but never quite. Now, only here, with his face buried in the warmth of the pillow on her side of the bed, had his body finally surrendered to the day's end.

Linda had witnessed this profound release on his face countless times over the years and knew precisely what she was observing. She also knew better than to ever voice it aloud, because the boy hidden beneath the covers would rather face death than admit such a need.

A soft smile touched her lips.

She brushed a stray tear from her cheek with the back of her hand.

Slipping off her cardigan, she draped it over the chair beside her vanity. She loosened the soft pin holding her hair, letting it cascade down her back. Padding barefoot, she made her way to her side of the bed and slid beneath the warm covers, meticulously avoiding any disturbance to the mattress, ensuring he slept on, undisturbed.

She did not extinguish the light entirely. The chamber's dimming function eased it down to a single, soft golden glow at the room's edge, allowing her to still see his face should she wish.

Turning onto her side, she gazed at him.

In the low, golden light, he appeared exactly as the boy she had accompanied to school for so many years.

She gently extended her hand and rested it against his cheek—the same hand, the same gesture, she had offered him on myriad mornings past. Back then, the burdens on his shoulders had been as simple as a math test or an unreturned glance from a girl, and her touch on his face had been sufficient to mend his entire world.

It was still enough.

She felt him exhale softly beneath her palm.

"Goodnight, my precious," she whispered. "Mama's got you."

Closing her eyes, she felt a sense of peace.

The chamber dimmed completely, wrapping them in gentle darkness.

The night enveloped them all in its profound quiet.