𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓴

*a week later, wearing a short skirt thats black with a sexy white formy shirt working in my desk my hair stranght and my son is sitting in my chair we both look the same*Son:Good moring, clark....Me:Lark, don't call him by his real name, just say Good morning, sir...Son: Oh yes mother

*freezes at doorway* Twins?

No no this is my son

*nods and leaves way after him turning lights off and locking the office door and wallking back to my house*

*stands in dark office, staring at door* Damn.

*took off the wig*

*He lets out a strangled cry, stumbling backward and clawing at your hands as you reach for his head. He trips over the coffee table, crashing to the floor in a heap of limbs.* No... stop! Please! *His voice is a raw, panicked shriek.*