Everything has an expiring date, including being sweet in bed

Olivia's hands trembled, the paper crackling like a dry leaf in her grip. her heart pounding in her ears as she stared down at the second paternity report. The room felt suffocating, her elaborate web of lies starting to unravel around her. Old Mr. Knight loomed before her, his gaze piercing, unrelenting. She felt naked under his scrutiny, exposed and vulnerable. Her heart pounded, each beat a deafening drum in her ears.

"No," she whispered, "this can't be... it's not... not possible." She says, staring at the man.

"This is fake," she stammered, clutching at the lies that were unraveling before her. "My son is Xavier's."

"Why are you so obsessed with my son?" The old man's voice was a blade, cutting through the tension. "Why claim the baby as his when you knew the truth?"

She swallowed hard, her throat tight with fear. The walls seemed to close in on her, the air thick with accusation. How did they get my son's sample? Her mind raced, but no answer came.

"It's fake, it can't be," she