The Cannon Fodder Alpha Who Made the Heroine Pregnant - Chapter 8

8:

Zhou Lan’s fingers froze mid-chord, her brow furrowing in irritation.

Few things angered her more than interruptions during composition. Each broken creative flow represented not just lost income—her songs routinely fetched millions—but the irreversible dissipation of artistic inspiration. In her past life, no one would dare disturb her during these sacred creative moments.

The abrupt intrusion felt like being dragged away mid-childbirth, an unforgivable violation of creative sanctity.

Emerging from the study, Zhou Lan’s simmering rage dissipated instantly upon seeing Chu Zhao. How could she possibly direct anger at the woman she’d wronged? But noticing Chu Zhao’s companion—the petite omega from earlier—her expression hardened.

“Barging into someone’s private space uninvited,” Zhou Lan said coldly, “is profoundly disrespectful.”

She observed Chu Zhao physically restraining the stranger, clearly attempting to prevent this confrontation. Since Chu Zhao wasn’t the instigator, Zhou Lan saw no need to restrain her temper.

Her normally calm demeanor was a carefully cultivated professional mask, one she could shed instantly when needed.

The intruder’s reaction surpassed Zhou Lan’s hostility tenfold. “You lecture about privacy?” the woman spat, shaking off Chu Zhao’s grip. “After what you did to Chu Zhao?”

Her cherubic face—round cheeks, button nose—belied the venom in her words. “A rapist demanding courtesy? The audacity!”

Zhou Lan blinked. “And you are…?”

The wedding had been a farce—no friends invited from Chu Zhao’s side, only obligatory relatives. Media outlets had spun it as a tragic romance: the grieving sister fulfilling her brother’s dying wish by marrying his fiancée. The public ate up the narrative, oblivious to the cold corporate merger beneath the pageantry.

“Chu Zhao, let me go!” The woman—Sang Xia, Zhou Lan now recalled—struggled against Chu Zhao’s hold. “I’ll teach this scum some manners!”

Zhou Lan retreated instinctively. Songwriting she could handle; physical altercations weren’t in her skillset. More importantly, attacking Chu Zhao’s friend would doom any reconciliation hopes.

Her pleading glance toward Chu Zhao earned only glacial indifference.

“Sang Xia,” Chu Zhao said firmly, restraining her friend, “she’s not worth it.”

The name triggered Zhou Lan’s memory—Sang Xia, illegitimate daughter of the powerful Sang conglomerate. In the novel, she’d eventually been legitimized after her mother’s scheming secured a position as the Sang patriarch’s official wife.

Zhou Lan understood Chu Zhao’s intervention: any assault charge would jeopardize Sang Xia’s precarious standing in the Sang family. Their shared history as marginalized women bound them in silent understanding, every action carried consequences they couldn’t afford.

“I’m moving out,” Chu Zhao declared abruptly, her grip tightening on Sang Xia’s wrist. “I’ll attend the required Zhou family events. Nothing more.”

With that, she led her friend away—not to her room, but out of the villa entirely.

The door’s final click echoed through the suddenly cavernous space. Last night’s pheromone storm might have passed, but its damage to Chu Zhao’s psyche would never fully heal.

Alone, Zhou Lan returned to her composition. Financial independence was now urgent—without funds, she couldn’t support Chu Zhao’s eventual liberation from the Zhou family’s grasp.

The piano app glowing keys taunted her. Inspiration had fled, leaving only the bitter aftertaste of powerlessness.