Pregnant with the Villain’s Baby

Chapter 3

Finn was a textbook case of a man ruled by lust over logic. No charm, no brains, no class—and absolutely no self-awareness. He was the living embodiment of Lucien Sr.’s worst traits: arrogant, crude, and endlessly lecherous.

Mia had tolerated enough of his greasy, squinting eyes these past few days. But now, he had the audacity to get handsy? Under the damn breakfast table?

All she’d wanted was to keep her head down, buy some time, quietly tie up loose ends, and disappear from the Northwood family without a sound. But apparently, every stray dog in this house thought she was theirs to kick.

The moment she spoke up, the atmosphere shifted like a snapped wire. The air turned electric.

Even the servants froze, holding their breath.

Then came the c***k! of porcelain—Lucien’s mother slammed her spoon and bowl down with such force it echoed off the walls. Finn’s foot flew back like he’d touched fire.

Still, the bastard had the gall to play dumb. “Ah, sorry, sis-in-law. Must’ve accidentally bumped into you.”

Mia offered a cool, polite smile. “It’s fine.”

But everyone at that table knew it wasn’t fine.

No one had seen what happened beneath the table, but Finn’s lewd glances and disgusting little “jokes” over the past few days had been obvious to anyone with eyes. His intentions were clear as day.

And since Finn was the beloved bastard of Lucien Sr.’s favorite mistress, the old man naturally felt compelled to step in.

He took the towel handed to him by a servant, shot a fleeting glance at Finn, and said mildly, “Alright, time to head to the company.”

Finn, utterly shameless, grinned like a dog in heat. Before leaving, he tossed Mia a look of smug victory, as if he’d just scored points.

He completely ignored the warning in Lucien Sr.’s eyes.

Mia lowered her gaze, but the amusement bubbling in her chest was hard to suppress.

Your brother’s still alive, i***t. You think just because you’re the only one left standing right now, you get to eye his wife like she’s a consolation prize? Do you really think you’ll inherit this empire?

The Northwood family had no shortage of bastard sons. And Finn was the bottom of the barrel. His downfall? Not just inevitable—deserved.

Even if Lucien never woke up, Mia was willing to bet this i***t would still end up face down in the dirt. Some men are so dumb, they’ll trip over their own chance at glory.

Finn followed Lucien Sr. out of the mansion like an eager puppy.

The front door had barely shut before Lucien’s mother shattered her dishes with a shriek of ceramic and fury, eyes burning toward the door.

Mia? She remained at the table, calmly sipping her tea, chewing her toast with practiced grace.

None of this drama mattered to her. Not the family squabbles. Not the inheritance. Not the power plays. She wasn’t even the one married to Lucien. That title belonged to Ye Qing—the woman whose identity Mia had assumed.

Once she finished tying off the last few strings, she’d walk away from all of this.

Upstairs, she resumed her role—dutiful wife—and headed to check on her comatose “husband.” The daily checkup was just wrapping up.

Lucien’s attending physician was a renowned neurologist named Dr. William Chao—Chinese-American, Oxford-educated, and hired personally by Lucien’s mother. He looked more like a scholar than a surgeon: clean-cut, bookish, always in pressed suits and wire-frame glasses.

Mia approached with the perfect expression—gentle worry tinged with helplessness.

“Doctor, how’s… how’s my husband today?” she asked softly.

William’s face darkened slightly. His Mandarin was flawless, crisp and formal. “No change, I’m afraid. But don’t give up hope. Human willpower is powerful. Massage therapy will help prevent muscle atrophy and improve his odds of recovery. Also, sunlight exposure. Very important.”

“I understand. Thank you, Doctor.”

“No need to thank me. I’m just doing my job.”

Once the medical team had left, Mia sat beside the bed and began massaging Lucien’s arms using techniques she’d picked up from the in-house physical therapist.

She looked down at the man who’d been unconscious for over a year and whispered with a mock sigh, “You know, your dear little wife almost got molested again today. That i***t half-brother of yours tried to play footsie under the table.”

Her fingers slowed.

“I mean, come on. You’re lying here half-dead, and I’m out there getting harassed during breakfast. I heard you used to be pretty impressive before this coma. What happened to you, huh?”

She leaned down a little, lips close to his ear, and said softly:

“Don’t tell me this is how the mighty Lucien Northwood ends—letting your little brother put his hands on your woman while you drool on silk sheets?”

　　Mia studied Lucien’s sharp, gaunt jawline—the face that once ruled the pages of that twisted novel. The things he had done in that story… she could never forget.

"I'm only twenty-two," she began softly, voice laced with bitterness. "I’ve never known love, never had a chance to live my own life. One moment I’m just me, and the next—I’m taking my sister’s place as your bride. They say marrying you might bring good luck, wake you up somehow. And since then, I’ve done everything I can to be a good wife. But let’s be honest—this house? There’s no place for me here.”

She let out a weary sigh.

“So I’ve made up my mind. I’m leaving in a few days. Don’t hate me for it, okay? Your parents can’t stand me, and your half-brother? He tries to get his hands on me every chance he gets. I really can’t stay in this damn house any longer."

She paused, a single tear sliding down her cheek.

Even she was nearly moved by her own performance.

As twilight deepened, Mia rubbed her sore arms and stood, ready to head downstairs. But just then—a thud. A shuffle. The door burst open.

Finn stumbled in, reeking of alcohol.

Mia wrinkled her nose and instinctively held her breath. She was about to call for someone to get him out, but then she caught the glint in his eyes—that hungry, predatory look—and an idea flickered to life.

Instead of fleeing, she calmly returned to Lucien’s bedside.

Finn was clearly wasted. He could barely keep his balance, his cheeks flushed red, eyes glazed over.

“H-Hey… sis-in-law,” he slurred. “How’s my brother doin’ today, huh?”

Mia responded quietly, “Same as always.”

“Same as always,” he echoed, and then grinned like an i***t. “Why you been so cold to me lately, huh?”

The truth was, when Mia first arrived in this world, the original "Mia" had already fallen for Finn’s smooth lies.

Bitter and isolated, bullied by her in-laws and desperate for comfort, the original Mia had clung to Finn’s fake tenderness. It hadn’t taken much—just a few sweet words and empty promises—for her to spiral into an affair.

But this Mia wasn’t that woman.

“I’m taking care of your brother,” she said firmly, lifting her head to meet his gaze. “And I’ve thought about it carefully—since I married him, I’m his wife. Your sister-in-law. I think it’s time you started treating me with a little respect.”

“Respect?” Finn laughed like she’d just told the funniest joke in the world. “Sis-in-law, the doctors said my brother’s never waking up. You’re really planning to spend the rest of your life chained to a vegetable? Doesn’t that feel like a waste?”

Mia stared at him, unimpressed. “Why would it?”

“C’mon, you’re still young. You’ve never even been with a man. You don’t know what real pleasure feels like.” Finn leaned closer, his voice lowering into something slimy. “But trust me, once you’ve had a taste, you’ll realize how miserable it is to spend your days next to a corpse.”

Mia remained silent, her hands still working through Lucien’s muscles with slow, practiced motions. She didn’t spare Finn a glance.

A breeze slipped in through the open window, carrying the faint scent of lavender and warm skin—clean, delicate, and undeniably feminine. Not some synthetic designer perfume, but something uniquely hers.

Finn inhaled instinctively, eyes half-lidded, drunk on the smell. His voice dropped to a whisper.

“I’m the rightful heir to the Northwood family. Everything—this house, this name, the money—it’s all going to be mine. And you, too. I can give you anything you want. All you have to do is say yes. Be a good girl.”

Mia still said nothing.

Finn stepped closer.

From behind, he looked down at her seated form. The curve of her back. Her narrow waist. The cascade of silky black hair draped over one shoulder. Her slender neck, graceful and pale in the fading light, formed a perfect arc above the hospital bed.

She looked like a porcelain doll.

Too beautiful to waste on widowhood.

The scent in the air thickened. Drunk and delirious, Finn’s breath hitched. His throat felt dry. Everything about her made him dizzy.

He reached out, placing both hands lightly on Mia’s delicate shoulders. His fingers began to knead gently, lingering far too long. His voice dripped with implication.

“Don’t worry, sis-in-law… no one has to know.”

　　When Mia didn’t react to Finn’s wandering hands, he grew bolder—his arms suddenly wrapped tightly around her from behind.

The scent of her filled his senses, soft and intoxicating. Drunk and overwhelmed by years of secret desire, Finn’s blood rushed wildly through his body. His skin flushed scarlet, and whatever little sanity he had left was gone.

In his mind, this was it. He had her.

But while Finn was gloating inside, Mia’s brow furrowed. The chill in her eyes was masked by a calm, level voice—too calm, which only made her sound like a woman frozen in panic.

“Let go of me, Finn.”

Finn, ever the degenerate, ignored her. Instead, he held her tighter, his breath hot and eager against her neck.

“Don’t be afraid, Mia,” he murmured. “You know my brother’s not coming back. You’re wasting your life on a man who’s basically dead. But me? When I take over the company, when I run this house, you’ll be the real Mrs. Northwood. I’ll kick them all out. No one will dare talk down to you again. Doesn’t that sound good?”

“I’ll say this one last time. Let. Go.”

“You’re too stubborn, sweetheart,” he panted, his words slurring. “You’ve never known what it’s like to really feel good. Come to me, Mia. I’ll give you everything. Hell, I’ll give you my life if that’s what you want!”

“Oh? Your life?” Mia’s voice dripped with sarcasm as she whispered near his ear.

And just then—

“You filthy disgrace!”

A voice roared from the hallway like a thunderclap. Finn flinched violently and let go of Mia like he’d been electrocuted.

At the doorway stood an elderly man in a traditional black changshan, leaning on a cane. His silver hair was slicked back with military precision, and his fierce eyes radiated murderous authority.

This was Elias Northwood, patriarch of the Northwood family.

Even old as he was, the weight of his presence crushed the air in the room. A man forged through war and business, Elias wasn’t someone a spoiled bastard like Finn could stand up to.

Finn’s knees buckled the moment he laid eyes on him.

“G-Grandpa! Wait! This isn’t what it looks like—she—Mia—she seduced me!”

Elias slammed his cane against the floor, voice like a whip. “Get this animal out of my sight!”

Two guards rushed in from outside. Each grabbed one of Finn’s arms and began dragging him out like the trash he was, ignoring his yelps and protests.

“Grandpa, I swear! I didn’t do anything!”

The entire villa echoed with his pathetic screams.

Mia stood frozen, looking Elias in the eye. Her body was trembling, but her gaze was steady—sharp, unwavering, without the faintest trace of fear.

Elias let out a long sigh. Though he hadn’t been home much recently, rumors had still reached him about Finn’s vile behavior. And now, seeing it with his own eyes, the truth was undeniable.

This girl… she had no allies here, no protection. Just herself, cornered like prey.

“You’ve got nothing to be afraid of,” Elias said, his voice rough but steady. “I know this wasn’t your fault. That bastard Finn is to blame. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he pays for this.”

Mia said nothing for a moment. Then she nodded once, quietly.

Elias turned to glance at the unconscious Lucien. His face softened slightly, but only for a moment.

“Take good care of Lucien,” he said. “As long as I’m here, you won’t be wronged in this house.”

“…Alright,” Mia answered softly.

Elias turned and slowly left the room, cane tapping rhythmically across the marble floor.

Mia sat back down beside the bed.

If it were up to her, she wouldn’t have bothered crushing a bug like Finn. But he came crawling into her space. He asked for it.

Finn thought that being Lucien’s illegitimate brother gave him power—that Elias’s favoritism made him untouchable.

What a joke.

Elias cared nothing for bastards or sentiment. What he did care about was the future of the Northwood family. Order. Legacy. Discipline. And above all—reputation.

Did Finn really think a man like Elias would allow a scandal like this to fester in his house?

Mia glanced over at Lucien’s still body, a smirk tugging at her lips.

“Well, Lucien,” she murmured. “I took out one of your competitors today. Sure, he was nothing but a cockroach, but I did have to lift a finger. Took some effort.”

On the bed, Lucien’s eyelids fluttered.

His eyes moved behind them—once, twice—like something was stirring within.

Then… nothing.

Stillness returned.