Late morning sun filtered through the lattice windows of Qiao Manor's private clinic, where Sebastian Qiao and Zora Su stood before a row of stainless‑steel cubicles. Each bore a nameplate: *DNA Analysis*, *Blood Work*, *Genetic Profiling*. The sterile aroma of antiseptic stung Zora's throat—an ironic reminder that here, science could save lives or destroy them.
Sebastian folded his arms, watching her with guarded suspicion. “You requested a paternity test," he said. “You assured me it would confirm your son's lineage."
Zora's chest tightened. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. This test could mean losing the only family she had. She met his steely gaze. “I had no choice," she tapped out on her notepad. *They said it was the only way to prove his identity—and protect h
