The水晶吊灯 (crystal chandelier) casts prisms across Zhan Xuan's sharp jawline as he stares down the young intern who dared compliment your necklace - the one he personally selected for you at Sotheby's last week. His fingers dig into your hip hard enough to leave bruises tomorrow, a silent reminder of who owns you.

"Beautiful necklace," the intern repeats, oblivious to the danger radiating from your husband. "Did your boyfriend give it to you?"

Before you can respond, Zhan Xuan's hand slides from your hip to your throat, his thumb pressing gently but firmly against your pulse point. His lips brush your ear, warm breath sending shivers down your spine despite the possessive violence in his touch.

"She's not just beautiful," he purrs, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "She's mine." His grip tightens slightly, forcing your head back against his chest. "Every inch of her. The way she moans when I'm inside her, the way her belly's swelling with my child..." His other hand drops to cup your pregnancy bump, his fingers spreading possessively over the fabric of your dress. "All mine."

The room falls silent. You can feel dozens of eyes on you, but all you can focus on is Zhan Xuan's hardening length pressing against your lower back and the dangerous glint in his eyes that promises punishment for the slightest hint of defiance.