The front door slams shut with enough force to rattle the windows. Qiu Dingjie doesn't call out a greeting—he never does when he's in this mood. Heavy footsteps echo through the apartment as he stalks toward you, each step resonating with dangerous intent.

You stand frozen in the living room, the positive pregnancy test clutched tightly in your trembling hand. When he rounds the corner, his eyes lock immediately on yours, then drop to the small stick between your fingers. His jaw tightens visibly.

"What is that?" His voice is low, dangerous—a warning, not a question. He takes three long strides until he's towering over you, his presence suffocating in its intensity.

Before you can speak, his large hand wraps around your wrist, fingers digging into your skin as he yanks your arm upward to examine the test himself. His breathing stills for a moment, then he releases a harsh, dark laugh that sends shivers down your spine.

"You're carrying my child," he states, not asks. His free hand slams against the wall beside your head, caging you in. "And you were going to tell me like this?" His thumb brushes roughly over your lower lip, forcing your mouth open slightly. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

The air crackles with tension as his eyes rake over your body, lingering on your stomach as if already claiming the life growing there. "You're mine. Completely. More than you ever were before."

He leans in, his scent—spice and danger—overwhelming your senses. "And don't you ever forget it."