Seventh day after the wedding, I puked my guts out.
4 a.m., Tomson Riviera 88th floor, bathroom lights white and cruel.
I was hugging the toilet, tears and snot everywhere.
Fu Juanzhou crouched behind me, holding my hair, calmly handing over the pregnancy test like he'd been waiting for this.
Two lines. Dark as a death sentence.
My brain exploded.
Pregnant.
The word I feared most in my life.
Not because of the kid—I'm scared I'll sand down every sharp edge I fought for, turn into one of those bitter housewives who live for their child's school district.
Fu Juanzhou's voice was ice:
"MAC clause triggered. I now have the right to choose: forced abortion or forced upgrade."
I looked up, tears mixed with vomit, laughed like a lunatic:
"Touch this child and tomorrow I blow up your Fund IV. Your whole family won't recover for three generations."
We stared at each other for three seconds.
The air smelled of gunpowder and hormones.
Then he laughed—that crazy laugh I know too well—scooped me up and threw me back into the blood-and-ink sheets we still hadn't changed.
"Fine. Upgrade it is."
He bit my earlobe. "Kid takes my name. But you swear: you only ever carry mine."
I clawed his neck, nails sinking in:
"Deal. And you swear: only I ever carry yours."
Another war until sunrise.
—
Three weeks later, Nanjing West Road, Gu family private club.
I was barely showing, wearing black maternity couture cinched viciously tight, as if to announce: pregnant or not, I can still kill.
Gu Xinghe waited in the deepest room, grey cashmere suit, gentle smile like an ink painting.
But I saw it instantly—this man is darker than Fu Juanzhou.
He poured me alcohol-free bubbles, voice soft:
"Miss Lin, I'm not here for romance. Just a transaction."
He slid over a term sheet titled:
Acquisition of Legacy Assets
Target: Lin Zhi (including foetus, future reproductive rights, emotional value, sexual value, commercial value)
Consideration: 30% voting shares in Gu Group + 20 billion cash + irrevocable trust of all Gu Xinghe personal assets to Lin Zhi
I almost laughed out loud.
I looked up, grinned:
"Mr Gu, tired of living?"
He smiled too, eyes burning with the same madness:
"I'm tired of being bored.
You, Lin Zhi, are the only person who makes me think dying by your hand might be worth it."
He handed me a fountain pen engraved:
To the one who can kill me beautifully.
I took it, didn't sign, just pressed the nib against his throat until a bead of blood rolled down.
"Want to acquire me?" I whispered like a lover.
"Survive tonight first."
I stood, skirt brushing his knee.
As I turned, he said, so softly only he could hear:
"Fucking thrilling."
—
That same night Fu Juanzhou flew back from Beijing.
The second he saw the photo—me centimetres from Gu Xinghe, holding that engraved pen—he smashed his phone in the VIP lane.
Midnight, top floor.
He kicked the bedroom door open. I was by the window drinking warm water.
Red veins in his eyes, still in his suit, voice shaking:
"Lin Zhi, you fucking dare?"
I looked at him, deadly calm:
"I'm carrying your child and you left me alone in Shanghai for the wolves. Why wouldn't I dare?"
He strode over, grabbed my chin, hand trembling.
Then let go, dropped to one knee, forehead against my barely-there belly, voice cracked:
"Sorry. I was late."
I threaded fingers through his hair, but my fingertips were ice:
"Late means penalty.
Tomorrow you come with me to see Gu Xinghe. In front of him you re-sign every single right—preferred, control, liquidation—until he loses all hope.
Until the whole city knows this child is yours and only yours."
He looked up, eyes blazing:
"Fine.
But from now on, where you go, I go.
Anyone touches you, I bury his entire family."
I smiled, bent and kissed him, tasting blood:
"Deal.
Just remember, Ah Juan—
the biggest legacy risk
is always when it's time to short."
Outside, a crack split the reflection in the Huangpu.
Dark red light seeped through,
something sharpening its teeth in the dark.