The workshop was a monument to controlled chaos—tools arranged in perfect order, wires coiled precisely, and metal stacked like weapons waiting for deployment. The overhead lights cast harsh shadows across the concrete floor, illuminating the space with clinical efficiency. And right there, in the middle of it all, stood Zhan Xuan—except he wasn't standing anymore. He was moving, fast, before she could even finish speaking.

Her back hit the workbench hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs, his body pinning hers in place before she could process the pregnancy test still clutched in her hand. His forearm pressed against her throat, not hard enough to hurt but enough to remind her exactly who held power here.

"Say that again," he growled, his face inches from hers, the scent of motor oil and raw male aggression overwhelming her senses. His free hand dropped to her stomach, fingers pressing roughly through the fabric of her shirt as if he could already feel the life growing there.

The sound of a metal vice tightening echoed through the room, but she didn't dare look away from his eyes—dark pools of possessive fire that made her thighs clench. "You're carrying my child," he stated, not questioned, his thumb brushing across her pulse point in a gesture that was half caress, half threat.

He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear as his hand slid under her shirt, calloused fingers finding her breast and squeezing hard enough to make her gasp. "From now on, every part of you belongs to me even more than before," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "Your body, your pleasure, this child—mine."

A sudden movement, and her wrists were pinned above her head in one of his large hands, the other sliding down to cup her sex through her jeans. "And if you ever forget that..." He pressed his palm against her roughly, making her squirm against him. "I'll have to remind you. Painfully."