Pregnant with the Villain’s Baby

Chapter 2

She found herself staring at his closed eyes. What would they look like when he opened them? Would they match the ones from her dream—dark, intense, and full of cold fury?

With a sigh, she leaned in to clean around his ears. Her fingers gently pressed his earlobe.

Suddenly, his eyelids twitched.

Beneath the thin skin, his pupils visibly rolled. It was subtle, but clear—like he was seconds away from waking.

Mia noticed.

She paused for a heartbeat… then resumed cleaning like nothing had happened.

She wasn’t new to this. The first time it had happened, she’d panicked, thinking Lucien was waking up early. But the family doctor had explained it away: involuntary nerve spasms. Reflexive movement. Nothing more.

And anyway, according to the story, Lucien didn’t wake up until one month after the wedding.

This wasn’t the time.

After the cleaning was done, Mia warmed some lotion between her palms and massaged it gently over his body. Her hands slid along his chest and down to his stomach. As she reached his lower abdomen, she noticed a small twitch in his pinky finger.

Amused, she gave his firm lower abs a playful squeeze—nothing more than a little indulgence before her morning duties ended.

When everything was finally done, Mia straightened up with effort, her back aching slightly. She dressed Lucien carefully and pulled the blanket back over him.

The butler—an old man in his sixties who had served the Northwoods his entire life—bowed respectfully and said, “You’ve worked hard, madam.”

Mia gave a faint smile, eyes lowered. She didn’t respond, just headed toward the bathroom to wash up.

As she shut the door behind her, a team of nurses and doctors entered the bedroom to carry out Lucien’s medical checks and administer his feeding tube.

That part was outside her responsibilities.

Freshly washed and dressed, Mia paused by the staircase, glanced briefly toward Lucien’s room… then headed downstairs.

In the dining room, her in-laws were already seated at the table along with a young man she didn’t recognize. The head seat was empty—Lucien’s grandfather hadn’t arrived yet.

She stepped inside and greeted them politely, her voice smooth and composed.

“Good morning, Mom. Dad.”

Mia gave a soft greeting, “Good morning, Dad. Mom.”

Lucien’s father barely looked up. He gave a slight nod.

She glanced at the empty main seat and casually asked, “Where’s Grandpa?”

“Your grandfather went back to the old estate for a few days,” Lucien’s mother replied smoothly. She was dressed to perfection, makeup flawlessly applied, looking like time hadn’t dared leave a mark on her face. In public, she played the elegant matriarch. At home, especially in front of her husband’s illegitimate children, she was determined to protect her dignity like it was the last shield she had left.

Mia kept up her usual act—quiet, unassuming, and obedient. Her eyes lowered respectfully. “Lucien’s condition is stable.”

“Stable?” The words barely left her lips before Lucien’s mother set down her utensils with a clink. “You’re the daughter-in-law of this family. Stable? Is that your idea of a proper answer? Are you brushing me off or brushing off your husband?”

Truth was, she’d never liked Mia. The girl came from the wrong background, lacked presence, was timid and spineless—hardly worthy of marrying into the Northwoods. If it weren’t for Old Master Northwood insisting on this marriage to “bring luck” to his unconscious grandson, she would’ve vetoed the idea on sight.

And now, a month had passed. Lucien was still comatose.

So much for ‘lucky’.

Lucien’s father furrowed his brow. “Enough. It’s early. The doctors are checking on him upstairs right now.”

Though still seething, Lucien’s mother lowered her voice. “She’s Lucien’s wife. Taking care of him is her duty.” Her eyes shifted coldly toward Mia. “You need to keep track of everything—everything—related to Lucien. Any changes, any signs, you tell me and the doctor immediately. Until he wakes up, you shouldn’t be going out casually. Stay home. Learn the massage techniques from the caregivers. It helps with circulation and recovery. Do you understand?”

Mia had lost count of how many times she’d heard this exact speech. It was practically scripted by now.

“I understand,” she replied softly, like always.

And she really did feel a little bad for Lucien’s mother. After all, she’d lost control of her husband years ago, yet still swallowed her pride to let the illegitimate child move in under the same roof. That kind of woman… wasn’t she just pitiful in her own way?

“Let’s eat,” Lucien’s father said, shooting a glance at his wife before motioning for Mia to sit down.

She took the seat next to Lucien’s mother.

Across the table sat a young man, eyes fixed on her, mouth curved in a smirk that never reached his eyes.

Mia resisted the urge to frown.

The man gave off a slimy vibe—shifty-eyed, predatory. The kind of face you disliked on instinct.

Lucien’s father, Lucien Northwood Sr.—real charmer, that one. A model husband in public, but a womanizer behind the scenes, collecting illegitimate children like trading cards. Most of them tried to cozy up to the family once they found out who Daddy was. But with Lucien as the legitimate heir, and Old Master Northwood still alive, none of those “outside sons” had ever dared cross the family threshold.

Until last year.

Lucien’s car crash nearly killed him—and almost sent his mother to an early grave from the shock. After he was diagnosed as comatose, Lucien Sr. brought home one of his “favorites”—this very young man now sitting across the table. His name was Finn Northwood.

Lucien hadn’t even been cold in the hospital bed before the vultures started circling.

The Northwoods had an empire to run. Someone had to inherit. And the old man turned a blind eye—for now.

Finn, meanwhile, thought getting acknowledged by the family made him the new heir apparent. But truth be told, he was an i***t. Everything about him—from his smug grin to his pathetic attempts to act like royalty—screamed wannabe.

Mia remembered her first few days in the Northwood household. The way Finn leered at her like a predator in heat. He’d even wrapped his arms around her once, right in front of Lucien’s bed, grinning and shouting things like “honey,” “baby,” and “my sweet peach.” All in front of a man in a coma.

Thank God Lucien was unconscious. If he'd been aware enough to see his wife being manhandled by his so-called “half-brother” right in front of him, he would’ve died on the spot—if not from rage, then from sheer humiliation.

Then again, when Lucien finally did wake up… Finn’s fate wasn’t exactly rosy.

In the grand scheme of things, a two-bit hustler like Finn didn’t stand a chance. Not against someone like Lucien.

A maid brought Mia her breakfast just as Lucien’s father cleared his throat.

“I’ve given you two months,” he said, not even looking at her. “It’s time you got familiar with the business. After breakfast, you’ll come to the office with me.”

The remark wasn’t directed at Mia.

It was meant for Finn.

　　Finn’s eyes lit up with undisguised joy.

Being invited to the company by Lucien Sr. wasn’t just a gesture—it was a statement. It meant he was being acknowledged. Recognized. Groomed. The bastard son was finally stepping into the light as a legitimate heir.

He tried to rein in the giddy excitement pulsing through his chest. “Yes, sir. Thank you, Dad.”

Mia’s gaze shifted slightly, catching Lucien’s mother in her periphery.

The woman’s hands trembled under the table, though her face remained eerily composed. She was clenching her jaw so tightly it looked like her teeth might c***k—but still, she smiled.

Mia lowered her eyes.

In front of the whole family, Lucien’s mother had to be dignified. Gracious. Understanding. She had to carry the weight of the entire Northwood name, even when her husband paraded his illegitimate son under her roof like a trophy. She couldn’t explode like some common woman, couldn’t scream or cry or slam the table—not in front of her daughter-in-law and this bastard boy.

High society had rules. And pride was the leash.

Finn could bask in the illusion all he wanted. Let him enjoy the spotlight—for now.

Because the moment Lucien woke up, this whole farce would collapse. And when that day came, neither Finn nor Lucien Sr. would have a leg to stand on.

The breakfast table was quiet—outwardly calm.

But under the surface, tension simmered.

Especially under the table, where things started getting very wrong.

Across from Mia, Finn’s leg had stretched far too close—his foot now brazenly pressing against her thigh.

To him, she was the perfect fantasy: a beautiful young wife married to a vegetable, trapped in a marriage with no warmth, no touch, no intimacy. He saw her as a lonely woman aching for comfort. A luxury wasted on a ghost.

His logic? Why let her rot in cold silence when he could offer her warmth?

After all, in his delusional little world, he would be taking over the family soon. And she? Just a bonus prize to claim along the way.

Lately, though, the little sister-in-law who used to blush and shrink away had changed. Her aloof new attitude—icy and untouchable—was driving him mad.

Mia set down her spoon slowly.

She looked up with a pleasant, almost playful smile. Her voice was gentle—clear enough for everyone at the table to hear.

“Oh, sorry,” she said sweetly. “My leg must’ve accidentally slipped under your foot. Would you mind removing your foot from my thigh?”