Chapter 941: Negotiating With a small Tyrant

The scene at the airport pickup area looked less like a family trip and more like a small-scale evacuation operation.

Soo-Jin and Eziel were systematically loading an absolutely ridiculous amount of shopping bags, boxes, and wrapped packages into a cargo van that had appeared like magic—because ARIA had obviously coordinated the whole operation with her usual terrifying efficiency.

Peter stood there watching the chaos unfold, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in that expression that said

I know exactly what happened here and I’m choosing not to murder anyone about it.

Yet.

Eziel was directing the loading process with the precision of a military quartermaster. "Careful with that one—it’s the Barbie Dreamhouse. The

deluxe

edition."

"There are non-deluxe editions?" Soo-Jin asked, hefting another massive box.

"Apparently. But those are for

peasants."

Eziel brushed imaginary dust off her hands. "My

goddaughter

only gets the best."

"She’s been your goddaughter for three days," Peter pointed out.

Eziel shrugged, completely unrepentant. "I work fast. Also, I have millions burning a hole in my account and a desperate need to prove I’m the favorite aunt. Luna’s already plotting her counter-offensive, I can feel it."

Luna didn’t even deny it. "I’ve got twelve Amazon Prime tabs open on my phone right now."

Peter sighed. This was his life now. Grown women competing for her affection through increasingly elaborate bribery campaigns.

Rory, for her part, was

living

for this chaos.

She bounced between the bags and boxes like a caffeinated pinball, pointing at things with the enthusiasm of a tiny dictator reviewing her conquests. "That’s my new art set! And my science kit! And my princess castle! And my—OH! The

HUGE

teddy bear!"

The teddy bear in question was approximately the size of a small car.

"How is that even going to fit in her room?" Peter asked nobody in particular.

"It’s not," Reyna said cheerfully from where she was leaning against their actual transportation vehicle. "It’s going in

your

room. As a monument to Eziel’s guilt spending and your complete inability to say no to that kid."

She wasn’t wrong.

Rory had never been this excited in her years of existence. Peter could see it in every movement—the way she kept touching things to make sure they were real, the way her smile hadn’t dimmed even slightly in the past hour, the way she kept looking at him like he’d personally hung the moon just for her.

Her few days with her

"GodMan"

had been the best of her life.

All his women had started calling her Peter’s daughter, and instead of correcting them, Rory had just... accepted it. Leaned into it.

And Peter—despite having zero relationship with Vanessa beyond "woman I met accidentally, and I definitely want to fuck"—had been treating Rory like his own from day one.

Which was weird even by his standards.

Usually the script went:

seduce the mother, bond with the kid, become the stepdad. That was the normal progression. The logical order of operations.

But Peter had skipped straight to

"this is my daughter now"

without securing the mom first, and somehow it worked. Somehow it felt

right

in a way that defied his usual patterns.

Maybe because Rory had decided too.

Her

.

This little gremlin with more personality than most adults had looked at this teenage supernatural being and decided:

Yes. This one. He’s my GodMan now.

And Peter—despite being a walking sex god with infinite stamina and a harem that would make emperors jealous—had absolutely zero defense against that kind of innocent, total trust.

Rory’s small hand found his, fingers wrapping around two of his much larger ones with that unconscious affection kids had when they felt completely safe.

Peter looked down at her—really looked—and something in his chest did that thing. That tightening, warming,

this matters

thing that he usually only felt with his women.

But this was different.

This wasn’t desire or possession or even the protective instinct he felt for his harem. This was something cleaner.

Purer.

The kind of feeling that had nothing to do with the system or his abilities or any of the supernatural bullshit that defined his life.

This was just... caring about someone small who needed him.

He crouched down to her level, gently fixing a strand of her dark hair that had escaped its ponytail during all the bouncing excitement.

"You’re really that happy, huh?"

Rory giggled—that pure, unfiltered sound that made everyone within earshot smile involuntarily.

"Yes, Daddy."

Peter froze.

Not

"GodMan."

Not anything.

Daddy.

She’d just called him Daddy.

The word hit him like a physical thing. Like something tangible that rearranged the architecture inside his chest and rebuilt it into a shape he hadn’t known existed.

She was letting him in. Fully. Completely. No more protective distance or fun nicknames. Just acceptance. Just trust.

Just:

You’re mine now, and I’m yours, and that’s how this works.

Something shifted in Peter at that moment. Something fundamental. Something that had nothing to do with conquest or empire building or any of the usual drives that motivated him.

This five-year-old girl had just claimed him as her father, and he realized with sudden, crystal clarity that he wanted nothing more than to be exactly that.

Even though he didn’t have Vanessa. Even though the normal order of operations said you dated the mom first. Even though this was backwards and weird and completely outside his usual script.

Rory had decided. And when a kid decided something that pure and simple, the universe just... rearranged itself to make it true.

Rory giggled again, bouncing on her toes, still holding his hand. "You’re my daddy forever! The

best

daddy ever!"

The happiness that surged through Peter was so intense, so genuine, so completely untainted by any of his usual complexities, that it radiated off him like heat.

People nearby noticed. Stopped. Smiled without knowing why. Just feeling the pure joy of a man and his daughter having a moment.

His women watched from their various positions around the vehicles, and several of them got that look. That soft, warm,

oh my god he’s going to be such a good father

look that made Peter’s future children very real possibilities in their minds.

Luna had actual tears in her eyes.

Soo-Jin

was biting her lip, fighting her own emotional response.

Even Reyna looked suspiciously misty.

Only ARIA—standing slightly apart, her enhanced senses reading every microexpression, every shift in Peter’s energy—knew the real reason why Peter wanted Rory as his daughter.

A reason she wouldn’t tell anyone. Not the other women. Not even Peter himself.

Not until she felt like it.

Not until the time was right.

For now, she just watched her Master hold this small human with a tenderness that existed nowhere else in his complicated, powerful, often brutal life, and she smiled.

Because even gods needed something pure to protect.

Peter scooped Rory up into his arms, lifting her high enough that she shrieked with delighted laughter, then settled her on his hip.

"You know what this means, right?" he said seriously.

Rory’s eyes went wide. "What?"

"If you’re my

daughter,

I have to spoil you. It’s in the dad rules. But..." He paused dramatically. "You’re not trying to bribe

me

, are you?"

Rory’s face went through the most transparently fake thoughtfulness Peter had ever witnessed. Scrunched eyebrows. Pursed lips. One finger tapping her chin.

"Hmmmmm,"

she hummed, dragging out the sound like she was solving advanced calculus.

Then her face split into the most mischievous grin. "Yes! I want bribes! Lots of bribes!"

"Oh yeah? What kind?"

"Endless spoiling!" Rory declared with the confidence of a tiny CEO laying out demands. "And toys! And ice cream for breakfast! And—" she paused, her expression shifting to something softer, "—and

Mommy’s prayers

."

That last one hit different.

Peter’s throat tightened. Because that wasn’t a demand for more stuff. That was a kid who’d watched her mom struggle and pray and hope for something better, and now that something better had arrived, she wanted to make sure it stayed.

She wanted her mom’s prayers answered. Permanently.

"Yeah,"

Peter said, his voice rougher than intended. "Yeah, baby girl. Endless spoiling and your mommy’s prayers. I promise."

Rory threw her arms around his neck and squeezed with all the strength in her tiny body.

Peter held her close, one hand supporting her weight, the other cradling the back of her head, and for a moment everything else—the empire, the missions, the complexity of his life—faded into background noise.

This right here. This small human trusting him completely.

This mattered more than any of it.

They walked together toward the waiting car, Rory still clinging to him, chattering happily about which aunt was currently winning the favorite competition and whether ARIA counted as an aunt or something more.

Behind them, the cargo van finished loading with enough toys and gifts to supply a small orphanage.

Ahead of them, Lincoln Heights waited. The estate. Home.

And somewhere in the middle of all that, Peter Carter—the Dark Lord, the Prince of Corruption, the teenage god building an empire—became something even more important... once more.

Rory’s daddy.

Forever.