The boardroom at Valeheart Tower was silent, polished obsidian stretching across the long meeting table like a river of midnight. Holographic stock tickers glimmered in the background, displaying numbers that could collapse nations. Power hummed in the air.
But all eyes were fixed on one man.
Lucien Valeheart.
At twenty-four, he sat like a sculptor's final masterpiece—tall, elegant, devastatingly handsome. Raven-black hair slicked back, eyes like molten night, his suit tailored sharp enough to bleed. A smile tugged at his lips—half amusement, half promise.
"Why," he said smoothly, "do I pay you billions if none of you can outthink a drunk child with a keyboard?"
No one spoke.
His gaze slid across the room like a blade, and grown men—CEOs, presidents, global chairmen—looked down, cowed.
Only one didn't flinch.
She walked in late. Deliberately.
Iris Wynter. Senior Analyst. Sharp-tongued, defiant, brilliant. And criminally unaware of what kind of world she'd just stepped into.
She placed a tablet down before Lucien, her hand brushing the edge of his.
Just that. A graze. A touch.
Her knees buckled slightly. She blinked, confused, her pupils dilating. Breath catching.
Lucien's Crimson Crown system flared in his mind.
[Target: Iris Wynter]Lust Affinity: 71%Resistance: MediumMark Eligibility: ApprovedAction: [Touch Effect – Level 1: Stimulate Nerve Response]Result: Controlled Arousal Triggered.
He tapped deeper into the system, channeling a thin thread of intent. No one in the room noticed—but Iris bit her lip, her body heating from the inside. Lucien didn't move a muscle. He didn't need to.
"I can feel your womb tightening. Curious…"
He whispered directly into her mind. Her face flushed violently.
"You may leave," Lucien said aloud, with a casual flick of his hand.
Iris stumbled slightly, trying to maintain composure. The moment the door closed behind her, Lucien triggered the Womb Sigil imprint command.
"Claimed."
In the sanctum of his mental system, her name lit up. A new thread in his web.
Hours later, Lucien descended into the hidden level beneath the tower—the Sanctum, where his real work began.
Here, he wasn't a CEO.
He was a god.
The halls shimmered with soft violet light, lined with meditation chambers, combat arenas, arcane libraries… and the women. Over fifty already. Each handpicked. Each tethered to the System. Scientists, warriors, spies, lovers, killers. Some adored him. Some worshipped him. Some hated that they loved him.
He didn't care.
They were his.
"Master," said a voice like silk sliding over steel. A tall woman approached—long silver hair, violet eyes, and a military uniform unbuttoned just enough to tempt chaos.
Celestine Rael. Ex-general. Now his Enforcer.
She knelt before him. "Target acquired. Kyoto Biotech's heiress refused your acquisition terms."
Lucien arched an eyebrow, already intrigued.
"She spit on the contract."
He smiled like a beast.
"Tell the pilot to fuel the jet," he said. "If she resists a signature... she'll learn to sign with her soul."
Celestine bowed. "As you will, Sovereign."