The Cannon Fodder Alpha Who Made the Heroine Pregnant - Chapter 2

2:

Zhou Lan woke at 5 a.m.

The soft warmth in her arms startled her, until last night’s memories flooded back.

The details were hazy. In that state, reason had evaporated. But the outcome was undeniable: she and Chu Zhao had crossed a line with no return.

Taking a steadying breath, Zhou Lan opened her eyes—and met Chu Zhao’s furrowed brow.

Even in sleep, the omega radiated distress.

Red marks dotted Chu Zhao’s skin, confirming what Zhou Lan already knew.

In this world’s rules, omegas endured heat cycles monthly—three to four days of primal need. Exposure to an alpha’s pheromones turned them helpless, while alphas likewise lost control under an omega’s scent.

And their compatibility? A lethal 100%.

The fusion had been chemical, all-consuming.

Worse, the original Zhou Lan—currently in her rut—had not only hidden Chu Zhao’s suppressants but removed her own inhibitor patches. A recipe for disaster.

Zhou Lan gritted her teeth. What kind of world forced biological betrayal? Omegas bore the brunt: permanent marks, no scientific removal without severing the bond (and half their lifeforce). Alphas faced no such consequences.

And Chu Zhao, the novel’s resilient heroine—had suffered more than most.

The original Zhou Lan’s plan? Mark Chu Zhao, then makes her friends “share” her—ensuring she’d die branded an adulteress, with no legal repercussions.

Only Chu Zhao’s combat skills (and Zhou Lan’s transmigration) had averted catastrophe.

In the novel, the original Zhou Lan failed but tormented Chu Zhao relentlessly afterward—until Chu Zhao’s rise left her bankrupt, limbless, and fish food.

A fitting end, but too late to undo the damage.

And now? Zhou Lan would inherit that karmic debt.

Her stomach churned. If only she’d arrived one hour earlier—

There’s no use in dwelling. What’s done is done. She’d take responsibility, somehow.

First, she needed to handle the trash downstairs.

—

Dressing in the original’s garish floral shirt and skinny jeans (ugh), Zhou Lan tucked the blankets securely around Chu Zhao—best not to tempt fate.

Her past life as a reclusive, socially awkward songwriter had not prepared her for this. Back then, her “cold genius” reputation kept people at bay. Here? She was a worthless scumbag alpha with negative credibility.

Only one solution: leave the Zhou family. Start fresh.

But then she glanced at Chu Zhao—the bite marks on her neck, the angry furrow between her brows—and sighed.

Running wasn’t an option.

—

Downstairs, three lackeys sprawled across the furniture.

“Boss! Done already?” One grinned, scrambling up. “Our turn now?”

Zhou Lan’s bl00d boiled. These vermin actually thought—

“Get out.” Her voice could freeze hell.

Confused snickers. “C’mon, boss, you said—”

“I said,” she enunciated, “get the fvck out of my house.”

Her glare, sharpened by the original’s deceptively delicate features—sent them scrambling.

As they muttered insults on their way out (“Who does she think she is?” “Watch her ruin the Zhou empire—”), Zhou Lan hit the security alarm.

Three minutes later:

“These men are banned from the estate,” she told the guards, feigning petulance. “We had a disagreement.”

The team nodded, used to the Zhou heiress’s whims.

Alone again, Zhou Lan exhaled.

Now for the hard part: facing Chu Zhao.

Would it be a quick death? Or slow, painful dismemberment?

Her bones ached preemptively.