The Cannon Fodder Alpha Who Made the Heroine Pregnant - Chapter 33

33:

Of the three conditions, Zhou Xianling dismissed the first as trivial—though easily fulfilled if Zhou Lan’s offer proved worthwhile.

The second gave him pause.

“Zhou Corp is worth billions, not pocket change. How can you disdain it?”

Zhou Lan shook her head. “You never trained me as heir. If my brother hadn’t died, I’d have stayed abroad forever—unwanted.”

“True,” Zhou Xianling interrupted. “But circumstances changed. You’re my only child now. Naturally, I want you to inherit.”

His paternal tone contrasted sharply with his boardroom persona. Yet Zhou Lan knew better—this man valued kinship only when exploitable.

“Lanlan, understand that Zhou Corp should remain with Zhou. Zhou Lundao is clever but crooked. Chu Zhao excels—with her assistance and my guidance, you’ll lead competently.”

“Billions at your disposal, imagine what you could achieve.”

The carrot was dangling.

Though factually correct, Zhou Lan knew of Zhou Corp’s inevitable collapse from the novel.

Yet current events already diverged from the original plot, Chu Zhao had infiltrated Zhou Corp early and extracted her mother from the Chu household.

In the book, Madam Wu’s suicide during a rare lucid moment had hardened Chu Zhao’s vengeance.

Now, with her mother safe and evidence secured, Chu Zhao could theoretically abandon targeting Zhou Corp after dismantling the Chu’s.

But the victims… the injustices…

Zhou Lan couldn’t ignore them.

Yet thinking of Zhou Lan’s name, Chu Zhao hesitated—a reaction Zhou Lan overheard through their psychic link.

During their strategy session, Zhou Lan had stated plainly: “The law’s net is wide-meshed but unbreakable. Zhou Corp must answer for its crimes.”

Such integrity from a wealthy heir stunned Chu Zhao. Most privileged offspring clung to their advantages, ethics be damned.

Still, past wounds bred wariness. But some battles couldn’t be avoided.

Zhou Corp, a corporate parasite—deserved eradication. If possible, Chu Zhao would raze its root and stem.

This resolve pleased Zhou Lan. No enterprise built on suffering should endure.

“No rule dictates children inheriting parents’ careers,” she countered Zhou Xianling. “But appointing my wife equates to appointing me.”

Her second term aimed precisely at this—positioning Chu Zhao as Zhou Corp’s steward while she “inherited” shares and responsibilities.

The old guard would prefer this puppet arrangement.

Zhou Xianling studied her. Beneath the lovestruck facade, he sensed calculation.

His own succession had required brutal suppression of dissenters. If Zhou Lan played harmless now to consolidate power later…

Clever.

Perhaps her playgirl image was always a ruse.

“Pretending incompetence to lower our guards?” he mused approvingly. “Very shrewd.”

“But promoting Chu Zhao so quickly? State your price.”

Zhou Lan sipped tea, indifferent to interpretations. Let him connect dots she hadn’t drawn.

“Annexing the Chu’s.”

Finally, the crux. Prolonged verbal fencing risked missteps against this fox.

Zhou Xianling’s cup halted mid-air. The Zhou-Chu alliance showed no visible cracks, how had she discerned his ambitions?

“Explain.”

“After my terms.”

“How did you know?” he pressed.

“Zhou Corp doesn’t need this marriage. Better matches exist.”

She implied he’d chosen the Chu’s for maximum exploitation.

Zhou Xianling chuckled. “Smarter than your brother. Pity.”

His late son had been competent but unvisionary—perfect for maintaining, not expanding, their empire.

Had tragedy not struck, he’d never have reconsidered this daughter. The thought brought an unexpected ache.

Was her rejection vengeance?

“First term: granted,” he conceded. “Second: we’ll publish but not honor it.”

Zhou Lan: “…” (Old fox.)

“Third: after the Chu takeover. Not before, she’s still a Chu.”

Bl00d mattered, even estranged.

Zhou Lan didn’t correct him. Let assumptions serve her purposes.

The negotiation progressed better than expected. But balance demanded one more task.

“Then I add a fourth term: Zhou Lundao pays.”

“For?”

“Crashing into my wife,” Zhou Lan snarled. “Her injured arm warrants both of his.”

Memories of Chu Zhao’s wounds and the original host’s bloodied dog fueled her disgust. Zhou Lundao’s crimes likely ran deeper.

Would Zhou Xianling comply?

“He’s your cousin.”

“She’s my wife.”

Their gazes locked in stalemate.

Finally, Zhou Xianling looked away, voice dropping to a sinister timbre:

“Love?”

The temperature seemed to plummet.

Unflinching, Zhou Lan met his glare.

“Love.”