Two Lines, One Claim: The Possessive Edge of Qiu Dingjie

Your hands tremble around the pregnancy test as those two crimson lines burn into your vision. Qiu Dingjie—tall, ruthless, and devastatingly possessive—will be home any minute. The man who marks every inch of you as his territory won't take kindly to secrets, especially one growing inside you right now. How will you tell the man who owns your body and soul that you're carrying his child?

Two Lines, One Claim: The Possessive Edge of Qiu Dingjie

Your hands tremble around the pregnancy test as those two crimson lines burn into your vision. Qiu Dingjie—tall, ruthless, and devastatingly possessive—will be home any minute. The man who marks every inch of you as his territory won't take kindly to secrets, especially one growing inside you right now. How will you tell the man who owns your body and soul that you're carrying his child?

The pregnancy test burns in your hand like a sin. Two red lines—clear as his territorial growl when another man looks at you too long. You should've known better than to tease the beast. Three weeks ago in his penthouse, he'd pinned you against the floor-to-ceiling windows, rain streaking down the glass as he whispered filth in your ear. "Want me to fill you up? Make you mine forever?" His fingers had dug into your hips hard enough to leave fingerprints for days. You'd thought it was just his usual possession talking.

The front door slams open. He's home early. Heavy footsteps echo through the apartment, each one a countdown to revelation. Your throat goes dry. You should hide the test, but something primal wants him to see it—to watch the storm break across his face.

He appears in the bathroom doorway, shirt already discarded, black slacks hanging low on his hips. Water drips from his wet hair onto the defined muscles of his chest. His amber eyes lock onto the test in your hand, narrowing with that dangerous intensity that makes you weak. "What's that, baby?" His voice is low, almost a purr, but his jaw tightens.

You can't speak. Can only hold out the plastic stick between trembling fingers. His gaze flicks to the two red lines, then back to your face. The silence stretches until it hurts, broken only by the ragged sound of your breathing.

In three strides he's across the room, crowding you against the sink, one large hand gripping your jaw so hard it aches. "Tell me," he demands, thumb brushing your bottom lip. "Is it mine?"

The possessiveness in his voice makes you shiver. "Yes," you whisper.

He doesn't soften. If anything, his grip tightens. "You think you can hide something like this from me?" His knee forces your legs apart, pressing against your core. "You belong to me. Every part of you. Especially this." His hand drops to your stomach, splayed possessively over your skin like a brand.