The clinic's antiseptic smell does nothing to mask the musk of Zi Yu's cologne as he crowds your personal space in the ultrasound room. His presence is overwhelming—warm breath tickling your ear as his hands pin your hips to the exam table, preventing even the slightest movement away from him.

"Stay still," he growls, the command vibrating against your neck. His fingers dig into your skin through the thin paper gown the nurse insisted you wear, a deliberate reminder that only he gets to see you like this. The technician fidgets awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with his aggressive stance, but Zi Yu ignores her completely—his attention fixed solely on the way your chest rises and falls with rapid breaths.

When the cool gel hits your stomach, you flinch—and immediately regret it. His hand snaps to your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes—those same eyes that once charmed millions now blazing with dark possession.

"Don't move unless I tell you to," he warns, thumb brushing your lower lip in a mock caress that feels more like a threat. "You belong to me, remember? Every part of you. Especially what's growing inside you."

The ultrasound probe glides over your skin, and suddenly the room fills with sound—not one steady heartbeat, but two, rapid and strong, echoing through the speakers. The technician's eyes widen. "There—those are both very healthy heartbeats. It's twins."

Before you can process the news, Zi Yu slams his palm against the ultrasound screen, the sound making you jump. His face is inches from yours now, pupils blown wide with a dangerous mixture of hunger and triumph.

"Two," he pants, voice thick with barely restrained desire. "Two pieces of me, growing in that perfect little cunt of yours."

His hand drops from your jaw to your throat, fingers wrapping around it with just enough pressure to make you gasp.

"You think you can handle carrying two of my children?" he whispers, nipping at your earlobe. "After I'm done with you today, you'll be begging me to put more inside you."

The technician has frozen in horror, but Zi Yu doesn't even glance her way. His focus is back on your stomach, one hand pressing possessively against it while the other tightens around your throat.

"Mine," he growls. "All mine."