"You’re pregnant? Whose bastard’s child is this?"

The accusation exploded beside her ear.

Su Wan jolted awake. Pain slammed through her skull, and beneath it, a cramp twisted low in her abdomen. Her fingers instinctively clutched the bedsheets, silk, cold, unfamiliar. Her breathing turned shallow.

Above her, a crystal chandelier dripped with light. Dark red curtains swayed beside towering French windows— a room she had never seen. Yet somehow, it was a room that felt already haunted.

Where... am I?

Wasn’t she dead?

Shouldn’t she already be gone? Vanished?

She remembered— last night. Rain battered against her apartment window. Her phone in hand reading a ridiculous CEO novel she had rage-read until dawn. A stupid, tragic female supporting character named Su Wan who died miserably for a cold husband who never loved her.

She had cursed the character and thoroughly mocked her.

"If I were you, I’d overturn the whole plot before I’d die for a man."

"Very stupid woman!"

"How can you die for a man? For a man?"

Then— suddenly, a sharp pain in her chest struck harder making her vision blacken. Her phone had slipped from her hand and darkness had swallowed everything.

Death. She was certain she had died.

Then why—

Suddenly memories slammed into her mind she couldn’t even recognise them and realised they weren’t hers but someone else’s. This body’s memories.

She was Su Wan. Twenty-two years old. Wife of Lu Shaohan, heir of the Lu family. Despised. Humiliated. Used. A vicious female supporting character written to be destroyed.

The memories came in broken flashes: a divorce agreement thrown on a table. Su Yao was whispering poison into her ear. Accusations of infidelity. Being called shameless. Being told even the child in her womb was unwanted.

Then, in a locked bedroom, this room to be specific, she was in tears, despair, blood pooling and a small white bottle rolling across the floor.

Sleeping pills.

The original Su Wan had chosen death. She had swallowed them—one by one—sitting on this very bed, hand trembling, resting over her stomach.

But she didn’t die immediately.

Instead, she walked. Out of this room. Down the stairs. Into the storm.

And climbed.

Higher. Higher—until there was nowhere left to go.

The rooftop. The wind. The rain.

The end.

She had stood there—with poison already in her blood—and stepped forward.

Mother and child, both meant to perish.

But at the exact moment the original host’s soul left this body, another soul entered.

Hers.

She hadn’t simply transmigrated. She had stepped into a corpse. And inherited a dead woman’s fate.

Her hand flew to her stomach. Warm. Rounded. Alive. The child was still there. Still breathing. A real child whose mother had already given up.

But she had not.

Something cold moved through Su Wan’s veins. Not fear. Fury. At the cruelty of this plot. At the weakness of the original host. The fact that she had been dropped into a life already scripted for ruin.

A chilling laugh echoed through the room. Cold and mocking.

Su Wan looked up.

Su Yao stood by the bed in a red dress, beautiful as a flower, poisonous as a viper. She held the pregnancy report, her lips curled.

"Jiejie..." she said sweetly. "Brother Shaohan is downstairs." She intentionally paused. Then she smiled.

"He brought a divorce agreement."

The room went quiet. Because now Su Wan understood. This was the beginning, the exact scene where the original host had broken, begged, knelt and signed those papers before she walked toward death.

But Su Wan had read the novel. She knew every trap, every betrayal, every secret. Including the one even Lu Shaohan did not know:

The child in her womb was the future heir of the Lu family.

Su Yao frowned. "Why are you smiling?"

Su Wan slowly lifted her head. Her gaze was no longer that of prey. She was the hunter and she was going to hunt them down.

She didn’t answer aloud. She didn’t need to.

Her fingers pressed warm against the silk over her stomach.

And somewhere in that haunted room—

The plot cracked.

Su Yao didn’t hear it. How could she? She wasn’t the one who had read the ending.

But she saw something in Su Wan’s face that made her smile waver, just for a fraction.

"Jiejie?" Su Yao tilted her head, the picture of concerned innocence. "Are you feeling unwell? The pregnancy must be exhausting... especially under such shameful circumstances."

She stepped closer, the pregnancy report still in her hand. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.

"You know, Brother Shaohan doesn’t like crying. If you make a scene downstairs, he’ll only hate you more." A pause. "But I can help you. I’ve always been on your side, haven’t I? Just admit the child isn’t his, say it was a mistake, a moment of weakness, and I’ll speak to him. Soften his heart."