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

PROLOGUE

The Fall

Rain fell like a curse upon the city. Cold. Relentless. Unforgiving.

High above the glittering skyline, a woman stood at the edge of a rooftop. Barefoot. Drenched. Her thin dress clung to her body—outlining the curve of her stomach.

Six months pregnant.

Su Wan.

Once the legitimate daughter of the Su family. Once the wife of the Lu family’s heir.

Now—nothing.

Her lips trembled. But no tears came. They had long since run dry.

---

Behind her, a voice drifted through the rain. Soft. Sweet. Cruel.

"You’re still hesitating?"

Su Wan didn’t turn. She knew that voice.

Su Yao.

"I thought you loved Brother Shaohan," Su Yao continued lightly. "Then why are you still alive?"

Silence. The wind howled.

Su Wan’s fingers curled weakly. "They said... the child isn’t his."

Her voice broke.

Su Yao laughed. Bright. Sharp. Deadly.

"Of course it isn’t."

Su Wan froze. Then slowly turned.

"What do you mean...?"

Su Yao stepped closer. Close enough to whisper.

"The hotel that night... I arranged it."

A pause.

"The doctor? Bought. The paternity test? Changed."

Each word—a blade.

"You were never unfaithful," Su Yao said softly. "You were just... convenient."

Something inside Su Wan shattered.

"So the child—"

"—is his."

For a moment, the world stopped.

Then Su Wan laughed. Broken. Hollow. Mad.

---

Behind her, another voice. Cold. Final.

"Su Wan."

She turned.

Lu Shaohan. Standing there. Unmoved. Untouched. Unfeeling.

"Even now," she whispered, "you still think I betrayed you?"

Silence.

That silence was the answer.

Something inside her died. Not her body. Her heart.

Her hand lifted slowly and rested over her stomach. Warm. A heartbeat. Faint. Fragile. Alive.

Her fingers trembled.

For the first time, something inside her wavered.

"...I’m sorry."

The words broke. Barely audible. Lost in the storm.

The child moved. Just once. A small, helpless shift. As if answering her.

Her breath hitched.

For a moment—just a moment—her body leaned back. Instinct. To live. To protect. To stay.

But then—

Voices. Memories. Accusations. Humiliation.

Bastard.

Shameless.

Not his child.

Her fingers tightened over her stomach.

Too late. Everything was already ruined.

The poison burned slowly through her veins. Heavy. Dull. Inevitable. Even if she stepped back now—there was nothing left.

No home. No trust. No future.

Her eyes closed.

"If there is another life..."

Her voice steadied. Colder now. Sharper.

"I won’t be this weak."

Her hand pressed once more against her stomach.

"...and I won’t let anyone hurt you."

Then she stepped forward.

The world vanished beneath her.

Wind roared. Rain lashed. Gravity pulled.

And in that final moment—the heartbeat faded.

Once. Twice.

Then—gone.

Darkness swallowed her whole.

---

---

After the Fall

The rain did not stop.

Sirens cut through the night—sharp, distant, growing closer. Below, flashing lights painted the street in red and blue. A crowd had begun to gather. Whispers. Phones raised. Curiosity.

Another tragedy. Another headline.

Above, the rooftop remained quiet.

Lu Shaohan stood at the edge, looking down. His suit was untouched by the storm. His expression—unreadable.

Behind him, Su Yao exhaled softly. Then stepped forward. Careful. Measured.

"It’s over," she said.

No response.

"She jumped," Su Yao continued, her tone gentle. "No one pushed her."

Still—nothing.

The wind howled between them.

For a moment, something flickered in Lu Shaohan’s eyes.

Then—vanished.

"Handle it," he said.

Two words. Cold. Final.

Su Yao’s lips curved slightly. "As you wish."

But as she turned, her expression shifted. Because something was wrong. Not visible. Not obvious. But there.

She glanced back.

Lu Shaohan hadn’t moved. Still standing at the edge. Still looking down. Too still. As if waiting for something that would never return.

---

Minutes passed. The rain softened. Just slightly.

Then a voice crackled through a phone below.

"Heartbeat—" A pause. "—gone."

The words carried upward. Faint. Barely audible.

But they reached him.

And for the briefest moment, his fingers tightened. Just once.

Then—released.

"Clean it up," he repeated.

And turned away.

Not looking back again.

But the rain kept falling.

As if something had been buried too deep—to ever stay quiet.

---