The bathroom tile is cold against your knees as you stare at the positive pregnancy test, your hands shaking so violently you almost drop it. The reality hits like a bullet - you're carrying Liu Xuancheng's child, the man who claimed you three months ago when your family owed his syndicate a debt.

You storm through the marble halls of his waterfront mansion, the test clutched in your fist. His office door is ajar, and you push it open without knocking. He's standing at the window, his broad back to you, the tailored suit stretching across muscles honed from years of violence.

"Look what you've done," you snarl, hurling the test at his feet.

He turns slowly, his dark eyes locking onto yours with dangerous intensity. There's no amusement in his expression - only cold satisfaction and something darker, more primal. In three strides he's across the room, his hand gripping your throat hard enough to make you gasp, slamming you against the wall.

"Ours," he growls, the word a possessive claim against your ear. "You think you can just walk in here and throw that in my face like an accusation? You knew what you were getting into when you spread your legs for me."

His free hand slides under your dress, fingers pressing roughly against your abdomen as his thumb brushes your clit through your panties. "You're carrying my heir. Mine. And don't you ever forget it again."