Transmigrated as the Pregnant Villainess: Mr Lu. This Heir is Yours.

Su Wan looked out of the window. The city moved—unaware, uninvolved. Somewhere, a piece of metal worth nothing had just become valuable. Not because of what it was. Because of what it might be.

Her fingers rested lightly over her stomach. Still. But her gaze shifted—colder, focused.

She didn’t know what the watch looked like. They didn’t know what the watch looked like. Which meant the real one was still out there.

And now everyone was searching.

The car didn’t make it far, just two streets and three turns, when then headlights cut across the road—sharp. A black car blocked the lane. Not sudden. Not reckless. Placed.

The driver braked hard but controlled. Silence fell inside. The guards reacted instantly—hands to weapons, eyes scanning. Then they stopped. Because they recognized the car blocking them.

The door opened and Lu Shaohan stepped out. Unhurried. Unaffected. As if nothing behind them mattered. As if he had always intended to be here. He walked forward approaching their car.

The guards outside lowered their stance. Not relaxed. Controlled. Respect. The rear door opened and no one asked. Lu Shaohan got in and the door shut. Silence sealed the space.

Su Wan didn’t turn immediately. She already knew. His presence filled the car. You could tell it from his aura and cologne.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was icy, measured. He paused. "This isn’t a shopping mall."

Su Wan turned slightly, unhurried. "What do you think people do here?" Her tone was calm, almost indifferent. As if the gunfire had never happened.

As if she wasn’t in danger a few minutes ago!

His gaze lingered on her a fraction longer, taking in no panic, no disorder and that registered.

"Where is the watch?" He immediately asked without any investigation or questioning her.

Su Wan’s brows lifted faintly. "What watch?" She paused for a heartbeat. "Do you see one?"

Silence. His jaw tightened.

"Su Wan." Her name was no longer drawn out. No theatrics. Just warning.

Then his hand moved fast. He caught her shoulders and turned her to face him—firm, controlled. Not rough, but undeniable.

"You are endangering my heir." His voice dropped, lower, colder. "And you should understand—that is the only reason you’re still here."

Meaning, it was for the child that she was Mrs Lu as if she didn’t know it.

There was a sudden silence. The words didn’t just explode they settled, heavy.

Su Wan didn’t resist. Didn’t pull away. She looked at him directly. Then a faint smile touched her lips—not warm. Sharp.

"Then perhaps..." A pause. "...you should rely on something more stable you know..."

His eyes immediately darkened.

She tilted her head slightly before speaking again. "Because if that’s all you have..." Another pause. "...it’s a very fragile arrangement."

Silence. That landed harder than before. Because it wasn’t crude. It was accurate.

His grip across her shoulders tightened slightly, then stilled. For a moment, the air felt thinner.

Then he released her—slowly, deliberately. Not because he had to. Because he chose to.

"Don’t test me." His voice was low and controlled.

Su Wan adjusted her sleeve as if nothing had happened. "You’re already being tested." Quiet.

Silence stretched. Then:

"Drive." The order cut clean.

The car moved.

Silence lingered. Heavy. Unsettled.

Then Lu Shaohan’s hand lifted. Steady. Unhurried.

"Where’s the black card." No emotion. No explanation. Just expectation.

Su Wan glanced at him briefly. Then her fingers reached into her sleeve. The black card appeared. She looked at it for a second—then flicked it toward him. Not thrown. Dismissed.

It landed cleanly in his hand.

"You can’t even part with that much?" Her tone wasn’t mocking. Worse. Indifferent. As if the amount was beneath notice.

Silence. The kind that didn’t sit—it pressed.

The guards in the front froze. Not moving. Not breathing too loudly. Because the temperature in the car dropped. Not suddenly. Gradually. Like something tightening.

Lu Shaohan didn’t look at the card. Didn’t check it. His gaze stayed on her—longer than before. Not anger. Assessment.

Then his fingers closed around it. Slow. Controlled.

"You think that’s what this is about." Not a question. A statement. Flat.

Su Wan leaned back slightly. "What else would it be?" Calm. Unbothered.

A pause. Then he placed the card back beside her. Not gently. Not forcefully. Deliberately.

"Use it." A beat. "Properly."

Silence. That meant more than the card ever did. Because now it wasn’t about money. It was about control. And how she used it.

Su Wan’s gaze dropped briefly to the card, then back to him. Unmoved.

"Then don’t complain when I do." Quiet. Final.

Silence returned. But this time it wasn’t empty. It held something else. Something sharper. More deliberate.

The atmosphere around the car was quiet and oppressive.

---

Soon, the gates opened. The Lu Residence stood ahead—cold, ordered, unmoved. The car rolled in. Gravel shifted beneath the tires and soon it stopped. The engine died. Silence returned.

The door opened and Su Wan stepped out first. No hesitation. No pause. As if nothing had happened.

Lu Shaohan followed. Slower. Measured. His gaze swept once—the courtyard, the guards, the perimeter. Then it stopped.

Another car had entered behind them. Unfamiliar.

The door opened. Two men stepped out, they were not servants or guests. It felt wrong.

Li Chen. His posture was straight, controlled. No attempt to lower himself. No attempt to stand out either.

Beside him, the second man—taller, broader. His presence was quieter but heavier. A man built for force, not words. His name: Chen Mo. Still. Watchful. Danger held in restraint.

The guards noticed. Shifted slightly. Not drawing weapons, but alert. Because they understood one thing: these men didn’t belong here. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

Lu Shaohan’s gaze settled on them. Not long, but enough. To take in movement, posture, breathing. Assessment. Immediate. Not ordinary. Not harmless.

His eyes flicked once to Su Wan, then back. "Explain." One word. Flat.

Su Wan didn’t look at him. "They’re mine."

Silence. The statement landed clean. The guards froze. Because that word—mine—had weight here.