The door of the AMG One closed with a satisfying, solid thunk, sealing me in a cocoon of carbon fiber and muted engine purr. It was approaching 6 p.m., and the sky was beginning to bleed into shades of orange and purple.

I had a few final things to sort out before returning to the strange normalcy of school tomorrow.

My conversation with Soo-Jin yesterday had been productive. I didn't want to deprive her of an education, but when I brought up high school, she'd been clear: she was only interested in college.

Given the rigorous Korean standard she was accustomed to, combined with her own formidable IT and other skills, it made sense. ARIA had suggested a tailored, home-based learning plan.

The plan was for her to study with my and ARIA's help, and when I took my GED exams to fast-track out of high school, she would take them alongside me.

Did I need college? Of course not. I was set for life. But Mom wouldn't hear of me skipping higher education entirely, and frankly, I agreed with her.

There was more to it than just a degree.

Most of my women—Madison, the twins, others—would be attending college. I wanted to be there with them. The schedule would be far more flexible than high school, giving me freedom to manage my empire.

My goal was to get out of high school as soon as the twins graduated; we'd finish that chapter of our lives together. Then, Madison, the twins, and I would take the entrance exams for a fresh start.

I had to admit, I was finally enjoying high school, a experience that had eluded me until recently.

But college… college promised a different kind of enjoyment. It was a collection of women from all walks of life and every corner of the globe. The possibilities were… expansive. Perhaps I'd even charm a vice president's daughter.

Or better?

But enough fantasy. That was settled with Soo-Jin.

The other pressing matter was the "school group." Sofia, Emma, Sarah, and Madison had decided they would commute together whenever possible.

Before she left, Madison had given me a direct order: "Buy a car for our school mornings." It wasn't a request. Isabella and Luna had expressed a desire to join but their work made it impossible, they had been especially teary about this loss.

Then there were the Miami women. All six had now decided to relocate to LA. Initially, only three were eager, but the others had broken free of their reluctance, ready to start anew. The self-employed or flexibly employed, like Sophia and Celeste, had an easier transition.

Celeste wanted to open a new gallery here while keeping her Miami establishment.

For the others, whose work was tied to family or late husbands, they would be leaving their old roles behind.

But I didn't believe in idle hands, especially not with women of such caliber. ARIA was already analyzing their skills and passions, devising plans to help them launch new ventures or find fulfilling roles within the growing infrastructure of Liberation Holdings and my other enterprises.

Whether it was a boutique, a consultancy, or a research project, I would ensure they had purpose. I wanted all my women engaged, contributing, thriving—not just living in the shadow of my wealth.

Amanda was already working with Charlotte.

Anastasia Romanov was a particular boon.

With a PhD in bioscience and a medical degree, she was a perfect apprentice for the biotech division I was building.

She would learn from ARIA, and together, we would revolutionize medicine. I wanted all my women engaged, whether working remotely, with me, or on their own projects. Idleness didn't suit them; they were too brilliant.

As I navigated the winding roads toward home, the AMG One responding to my lightest touch, I felt a sense of immense satisfaction.

The pieces were moving into place. Education, business, family—all the threads of my life were being woven together into a tapestry of unimaginable scale and complexity.

The engine's roar was a soundtrack to a future I was building with every decision, every conquest, every connection.

I couldn't dictate their lives; the decisions were theirs. My role was to support, or occasionally to refuse what I deemed unallowable.

Now, all we could do was set our plans in motion and wait for the cosmos to deliver the results. I was under no illusion of perfection; there were undoubtedly flaws in my grand design.

But those flaws were what kept me human beneath the godly veneer. They were opportunities to learn, to adapt, to become better.

Nevertheless, starting tomorrow, the real work began. Not just the overseeing of Quantum Tech, but a hands-on dive into the Wellness Center and the Meridian Agency. The cosmos, in its strange wisdom, had granted me the time I'd asked for—a delay in the family meeting that provided the perfect window to encounter Patricia Torres on my own terms.

And I was curious. Something felt intrinsically off about the assumptions I'd held.

For truly toxic women—like Lea—the System never issued missions. I was a liberator, not a masochist; I didn't have to endure just any kind of toxicity. The System seemed to reflect that.

If I were to pursue a toxic woman, it would be of my own volition, because I saw a flicker of hope, a core worth saving.

But the System itself had given me a mission for Patricia. It knew my history with the Morrisons. If she had truly been the mastermind behind the years of bullying, as Jack claimed, would the System really task me with her liberation?

It would feel less like a mission and more like a setup for a vengeful conquest.

Last night, as I lay surrounded by my sleeping women, Taboo had confirmed my suspicion: the Dark Seduction System, in particular, does not issue missions fueled by revenge against women.

The purpose is connection, elevation, mutual liberation.

If Patricia were the villain I'd imagined, the mission would never have manifested. The very existence of the mission was proof that the reality was more complex.

And the idea of using sex as a weapon of revenge was anathema to me.

Sex was sacred.

The union I shared with my women was a profound exchange, a sanctuary. To degrade that into a tool for petty retribution was unthinkable. Do not misunderstand me—if a woman wronged me grievously, I would hold her accountable.

But I would never use my body, my intimacy, as the instrument of that accountability, unless of course it is just a roleplay.

Anyway, we would settle our scores like adults, and only then,

Of course, if a woman who was once an enemy and I manage to settle our scores honorably, if a genuine connection could emerge from the ashes, could a different journey begin. The past, once settled, becomes just that—the past.

The potential for something more, even love, can then emerge from a place of mutual respect and cleared air.

Take Helena, for example. I had a plan for her. As long as she could let go of her grudges and see the new reality, there was a clear path forward where we might become lovers.

After all, when you stripped away the recent friction, we weren't exactly born enemies. There was a foundation there, however cracked, that could be repaired. The conflict was situational, not intrinsic. And situations can change.

As I guided the AMG One onto the familiar road leading home, my mind was clear. The path ahead was multifaceted: a businessman, a liberator, a student, and now, an investigator into the true nature of Patricia Torres. The game was expanding, and I was more than ready to play.

But the Meridian Agency... that was another story entirely.

That world operated on a different set of rules—shadows, secrets, and a cold, hard calculus where the sacred and the profane often intertwined. That would require a different side of me altogether.

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