Her free hand lifted—rested lightly over her stomach. Instinct. Protection.

"And this child..." A breath. "...is not something you gamble with."

The final slap landed.

Not louder. Not harder. But finally.

Lu Meiqi lost her balance. Her heel slipped against the polished floor—a tiny, treacherous skid. Her body tilted backward, arms flailing, mouth opening in a silent gasp.

Then she fell.

The sound was soft—the rustle of silk, the dull thud of impact against the floor. But the impact itself was not.

Silence.

No one moved. No one spoke. The servants pressed themselves deeper into the edges of the room—invisible, uninvolved, not breathing.

Lu Meiqi sat on the floor. Hair loosened, strands falling across her face. Cheeks flushed—red marks already blooming. Eyes wide. Not crying. Stunned.

Her hands lay limp in her lap. Her perfect silk dress was rumpled. One heel had slipped off, lying on its side a few inches away.

Su Wan looked down at her. Calm. Still. Untouched.

"Think before you touch me."

No anger. No emphasis. Which made it absolute.

---

Then—footsteps echoed from the further end.

Slow. Measured. Approaching.

Everything tightened. The servants shrank further. Lu Meiqi’s head turned toward the doorway, hope and fear warring on her face.

Lu Shaohan appeared in the corridor.

He didn’t rush. Didn’t question. He simply walked—each step deliberate, unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world and knew that everyone else would wait.

He stopped in the hallway.

His gaze moved.

First—Lu Meiqi. On the floor. Disordered. Humiliated. Her dress was rumpled. Her cheek was marked. Her heel abandoned.

Then—Su Wan.

Standing. Barefoot. Wearing his shirt. The collar was loose. The hem brushes her thighs. Her hair was still damp from the shower, falling in dark waves over her shoulders. Her expression—calm. Not triumphant. Not afraid. Just... present.

A pause. Long enough to press into everyone present.

Lu Meiqi reacted first.

"Cousin!" She scrambled to her feet—too quickly, almost losing her balance again. Her voice was sharp, urgent, cracking at the edges. "You have to divorce her! She’s gone mad—look at her! Wearing your clothes—walking around like this—she’s humiliating the Lu family!"

She rushed toward him—hand lifting, reaching for his arm, his sleeve, anything—

Then stopped.

Mid-air.

Because of one look.

Lu Shaohan didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. That glance—cold. Flat. Uninterested.—was enough.

Her hand dropped. Her mouth closed. She took a half-step back, as if pushed by an invisible force.

Silence stretched.

Then Su Wan’s voice came. Light. Unhurried.

"...Should I be the one leaving?"

Not emotional. Not sharp. But precise. A scalpel, not a hammer.

Lu Shaohan’s gaze shifted from Lu Meiqi—to Su Wan.

He took in everything. The shirt. The bare legs. The way she stood—unmoved, unapologetic, her weight resting slightly on one hip, one hand still resting over her stomach.

The faint red marks on her wrist where he had grabbed her earlier. The way her hair curled at the ends from the dampness. The slight shadows under her eyes from a night with too little sleep.

A pause. A long one.

Then he walked toward her. Without a word.

Before she could react—his hand closed around her wrist. Firm. Controlled. Not the same grip as before—not testing, not threatening. Something else.

And in one smooth motion, he lifted her.

Not gently. Not roughly. Decisively. As if it required no effort. No permission. As if she weighed nothing at all.

Her breath hitched—just a fraction. Her free hand instinctively pressed against his chest for balance.

He turned. Carried her back into the room. And dropped her onto the bed.

The mattress dipped under her weight, springs whispering beneath fresh sheets. She steadied herself—one hand braced against the duvet, the other still resting over her stomach. The shirt rode up slightly, exposing more of her legs.

She looked up.

Lu Shaohan stood over her. Looking down.

His gaze lowered—briefly—to her legs. To the pale skin, the curve of her knees, the way the shirt pooled around her hips. His expression tightened. Something flickered in his eyes—too fast to name.

"Don’t walk around like that."

Flat. A command disguised as disapproval.

A pause. Then: "Where are your clothes?"

No concern. No softness. Just—disapproval.

Su Wan leaned back slightly, shifting her weight onto one elbow. One hand remained over her stomach—protective, unconscious, constant.

"I’m pregnant." Simple. Unadorned. As if that explained everything.

Then she looked at him—really looked. At the hard line of his jaw. At the dark shirt he wore, sleeves rolled to the elbow. The way he stood, broad-shouldered and immovable, like a wall that had decided to plant itself in her way.

"When did you ever buy me anything to wear?"

Silence.

Heavy.

Because that was the truth.

Not an accusation. Not complaint. Fact.

He had never bought her clothes. Never provided for her beyond the bare minimum required by the marriage contract. Never thought about what she wore, what she ate, whether she was warm or cold or comfortable or afraid.

She had been invisible to him.

Until now.

Something shifted. Not in her. In him.

A muscle moved in his jaw. His eyes—dark, unreadable—held hers for a moment longer than necessary.

And that—was far more dangerous than any slap.

Silence lingered, heavy and unbroken.

Lu Shaohan didn’t move immediately.

He was still looking at her.

Not at her face.

But at the shirt.

At what it revealed. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

At what it didn’t.

Then—

He turned.

No words.

No explanation.

He walked toward the desk.

Picked up his phone and dialed.

The room remained silent.

No one dared interrupt.

And soon, the line connected.

His voice was low and flat..

"Bring maternity clothes." He paused—

"Now."

Another pause.

"No."

His tone didn’t change— But something in it sharpened.

"Not later."

A beat..

"Immediately."

He ended the call.

No extra words.

No clarification.

He placed the phone back down and turned back.

His gaze flicked toward Su Wan again.

Still the same.

Still unreadable.

But now—

There was something else beneath it.

Not concern.