The Cannon Fodder Alpha Who Made the Heroine Pregnant - Chapter 3

3:

Zhou Lan lingered on the first floor, mentally rehearsing what to say when Chu Zhao woke up.

One truth crystallized: She had transmigrated into a villainous cannon fodder. To avoid the original’s gruesome fate, she needed strategy—fast.

Having read the novel, she knew its bones.

In her past life, she had been a songwriter—reclusive, socially awkward, drawing inspiration from films, books, even games. Talent, some called it.

This story followed a classic “dark heroine” arc. Never cross the female lead.

Too late for that, given last night. But if she could aid Chu Zhao’s rise, mitigate future hardships—perhaps mercy might temper vengeance.

Step one: Leave the Zhou family.

The Zhous were rotten, destined to collapse. Chu Zhao, she recalled, was already laying groundwork to devour them.

The original Zhou Lan, a late-blooming alpha, had been neglected—her brother groomed as heir. Legally, the family’s implosion wouldn’t touch her.

But old enemies would come hunting. Disappearing was essential.

The Zhou fortune? Worthless to her.

The original’s sole redeemable trait: a graduate degree from a prestigious international music conservatory, bought by family money.

At 25, she’d been recalled after her brother’s death—and in months, cemented her reputation: a spoiled, talentless playgirl with nouveau riche vulgarity, dreaming of stardom sans effort.

Post-wedding, Chu Zhao’s beauty had briefly tamed her… until boredom struck. Then came the parties, the affairs—and finally, last night’s atrocity.

A crime, not a prank.

Zhou Lan grimaced. Reputation mattered only because Chu Zhao held her life in her hands.

If escape wasn’t immediate, she must rehabilitate her image—and take responsibility.

Plans solidified, until she faced the stairs.

What could she possibly say?

That the pheromone madness wasn’t her fault? Technically true, but this body had participated.

The original was a beast. She’d behaved like one.

Steeling herself, she ascended—and froze.

At the landing stood Chu Zhao: pallid, trembling, eyes burning with hatred.

(Zhou Lan had unlocked the door earlier, fearing Chu Zhao might jump.)

The omega’s disheveled state—damp bangs, crumpled clothes, that shattered aura—pierced Zhou Lan with guilt sharper than any law.

In this world, alphas held all power. Consent during ruts/heats was presumed. An omega’s accusation? Easily dismissed as “seduction.”

Chu Zhao, the novel’s heroine, had known only hardship. Now this.

“I’m sorry.” The words felt woefully inadequate.

Chu Zhao’s glare could flay skin.

“Sorry?” Hoarse, venomous. From the stairs, she looked less like a victim than an avenging spirit—hell-bent on dragging Zhou Lan to the abyss.

Zhou Lan opened her mouth—

“I’ll kill you.”

“Make you suffer.”

Wait. Chu Zhao’s lips hadn’t moved.

Yesterday’s “Drop dead” hadn’t been imagined.

She could hear Chu Zhao’s thoughts.

The revelation should’ve shocked her more. But Chu Zhao’s swaying posture took priority.

Logically, Zhou Lan should flee—let tempers cool. Yet leaving Chu Zhao alone felt unconscionable.

The novel’s Chu Zhao was resilient, yes. But trauma wasn’t erased by future success.

“Chu Zhao,” she said quietly, “I know you won’t believe me now. But whatever you need—now or later—I’ll provide it.”

A hollow laugh. Chu Zhao turned, moving like a marionette with cut strings.

“The Zhous… must burn.”

“Zhou Lan… deserves torment.”

Again, unspoken.

Before Zhou Lan could process this, fire seared her neck.

Her rut wasn’t over. Without suppressants, she’d lose control again—and so would Chu Zhao.

The villa’s clinic might have inhibitor patches. But only hospital-grade suppressants could end this.

Think. The original had dumped Chu Zhao’s suppressants in the pool. Find those, and—

She bolted outside.

The pool’s center, per the novel. Chu Zhao had spotted them mid-leap.

Mapping the trajectory from Chu Zhao’s window, Zhou Lan waded in—just as a figure cannonballed beside her.

Chu Zhao.