Chapter 6 — The DNA Test
Chapter 6 — The DNA Test
The explosion shook the mansion hard enough to make the chandeliers tremble.
For one terrible second, nobody moved.
Then Marisol screamed.
“Valentina!”
Diego grabbed her shoulders.
“She's not here.”
“She could be hurt!”
“She isn't.”
“How do you know?”
“I don't.”
That was the truth.
And it terrified him.
Security officers rushed through the entrance.
Someone shouted that the explosion had occurred near the eastern gate.
Another guard reported smoke rising from the road.
Diego's phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered immediately.
“Where is my daughter?”
A man's voice replied.
“Alive.”
Diego's blood turned cold.
“Let me speak to her.”
“Not yet.”
“You have five seconds.”
A quiet laugh.
“You still think you're in control.”
Diego looked toward Marisol.
She was crying.
“Tell me where she is.”
“First, you need to understand something.”
“What?”
“The girl was never the only secret.”
The call ended.
Diego stared at the phone.
Marisol stepped closer.
“What did he say?”
“He said Valentina is alive.”
“And?”
“He said she's not the only secret.”
Marisol's face went pale.
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
But deep inside, Diego already feared the answer.
Two hours later, they found Valentina.
She was inside an abandoned guesthouse less than twenty kilometers from the mansion.
She was frightened.
Cold.
Clutching her stuffed rabbit.
But unharmed.
When Diego saw her, he nearly collapsed.
He ran to her.
“Valentina!”
She threw herself into his arms.
“Daddy!”
He held her so tightly that she laughed.
“You came.”
“Of course I came.”
“You promised.”
“I did.”
Marisol reached them seconds later.
She pulled Valentina into her arms.
The three of them stood together in the middle of the abandoned room.
For the first time, they looked like what they truly were.
A family.
But Diego noticed something immediately.
Valentina was holding a small object.
“What is that?”
She looked down.
“A man gave it to me.”
“What man?”
“I don't know.”
“What did he say?”
Valentina frowned.
“He said Daddy would know.”
She handed Diego a small silver key.
Diego stared at it.
He recognized it.
It belonged to his father's private archive.
His expression changed.
Marisol saw it.
“What?”
“My father had this.”
“Where?”
“In the old estate.”
“The one outside the city?”
“Yes.”
Diego closed his hand around the key.
Someone had deliberately given it to Valentina.
Which meant someone wanted him to find something.
The next morning, Diego took Valentina to a private medical clinic.
Not because he doubted that she was his daughter.
He already knew.
He wanted legal confirmation.
More importantly, he wanted to know if someone had tampered with the records.
A discreet DNA test was arranged.
Marisol sat beside him in the waiting room.
Valentina was playing with a wooden puzzle.
Diego watched her.
“She has your eyes.”
Marisol smiled.
“No.”
“What?”
“She has yours.”
He looked at her.
“Then why did I recognize her before I knew?”
“Because she's your daughter.”
He reached across the table.
“I should have known.”
“You were sick.”
“I still feel like I failed her.”
Marisol shook her head.
“You didn't know.”
“But you did.”
She looked down.
“Yes.”
“I wish you'd told me.”
“I tried.”
He took her hand.
“I know.”
The door opened.
The doctor stepped inside.
“Mr. Villaseñor.”
Diego stood.
“Is it ready?”
“Yes.”
The doctor handed him the envelope.
Diego didn't open it immediately.
He looked at Marisol.
“You want to read it?”
She nodded.
He opened the report.
His eyes moved across the page.
Then stopped.
Probability of paternity: 99.9999%.
He couldn't breathe.
He looked at Valentina.
His daughter.
There was no longer any room for doubt.
No lawyer.
No family member.
No lie could erase it.
He knelt beside her.
“Valentina.”
She looked up.
“Yes?”
He smiled.
“The doctor says I'm definitely your daddy.”
She stared at him.
Then smiled.
“I told you.”
Diego laughed.
Marisol covered her mouth as tears rolled down her cheeks.
Valentina hugged him.
“Now you have to stay.”
Diego held her.
“Forever.”
But the doctor wasn't finished.
“Mr. Villaseñor.”
Diego stood.
“What?”
“There is something unusual in the report.”
His smile disappeared.
“What?”
The doctor looked at the pages.
“The sample submitted under Valentina's name is genetically compatible with you.”
Diego frowned.
“That's what we expected.”
“Yes.”
“But?”
“The maternal genetic profile doesn't match the biological mother listed on the old hospital records.”
Marisol went completely still.
“What?”
The doctor looked at her.
“The old medical records contain a different maternal identifier.”
Marisol shook her head.
“That can't be right.”
“It is.”
“I'm her mother.”
“I am not questioning that.”
He pointed to the file.
“But someone entered another woman's genetic information into an older medical database.”
Diego's expression darkened.
“Who?”
“We don't know.”
“Can you identify the woman?”
The doctor hesitated.
“Possibly.”
“How?”
“Through the genetic profile.”
He pulled out another document.
“There is a partial match.”
Diego stared.
“To whom?”
The doctor looked at him.
“Someone connected to the Villaseñor family.”
The room became silent.
Marisol's hands began trembling.
“Who?”
The doctor placed the document on the table.
Elena Villaseñor.
Diego's mother.
He stared at the name.
“No.”
The doctor nodded.
“The genetic profile is not a full maternal match, but there is enough evidence of a close biological relationship.”
Marisol looked at Diego.
“What does that mean?”
Diego couldn't answer.
His mind raced.
His mother.
His daughter.
The altered hospital records.
The accident.
The missing medical files.
His father's secret.
Paulina.
Rafael.
Dr. Herrera.
Everything was connected.
But how?
The doctor continued carefully.
“There's another possibility.”
“What?”
“The database may have been deliberately altered.”
Diego's eyes hardened.
“Why?”
“To make it appear that Valentina belonged to another woman.”
Marisol whispered:
“Why would anyone do that?”
Diego looked at the silver key in his hand.
“Because someone didn't want her identity discovered.”
They returned to the mansion.
Elena was waiting.
She stood in the foyer.
When she saw Valentina beside Diego, something changed in her expression.
Not anger.
Not surprise.
Fear.
Diego noticed.
“Mother.”
She looked at him.
“Yes?”
“I need to ask you something.”
“What?”
“Did you ever give blood for a genetic test?”
Her face became pale.
“What kind of question is that?”
“Answer me.”
“I don't remember.”
“Think.”
She looked toward Valentina.
Then away.
“I had medical tests years ago.”
“When?”
“After your father's death.”
“Why?”
“I was sick.”
Diego stepped closer.
“Were you tested for a genetic condition?”
“Yes.”
“Was your DNA stored?”
“I don't know.”
Diego stared at her.
“You're lying.”
Elena's eyes filled with tears.
“I am trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
She looked at Marisol.
Then at Valentina.
Then back at Diego.
“You don't know what your father did.”
“Tell me.”
“I can't.”
“You already lied to me for three years.”
“I was afraid.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I am afraid because he's dead.”
Diego froze.
“My father is dead.”
“Yes.”
“So who are you afraid of?”
Elena whispered:
“Your father wasn't the only Villaseñor who knew the truth.”
That night, Diego used the silver key.
It opened a hidden room beneath the old family estate.
The room had no windows.
Inside were shelves filled with boxes.
Legal documents.
Medical records.
Old photographs.
Birth certificates.
DNA reports.
And one locked cabinet.
Diego opened it.
Inside was a file bearing his name.
He pulled it out.
The first page contained a photograph.
A young Marisol.
Holding a newborn baby.
Diego's breath stopped.
The date was three years ago.
But something was wrong.
The photograph had been taken inside a hospital.
A hospital Diego recognized.
The same hospital where he had been treated after the accident.
He turned the page.
There was a medical report.
Patient: Marisol Hernández.
Condition: Postpartum complications.
Child: Female.
Biological father: Diego Villaseñor.
Diego's hands shook.
He turned another page.
There was a second document.
Emergency transfer authorization.
The child's name had been crossed out.
Underneath it was another name.
Valentina Robles.
Diego froze.
“Robles?”
Marisol stared.
“That's Paulina's surname.”
“Yes.”
He turned the page.
A handwritten note appeared.
The child must never be registered under Villaseñor.
Below it was a signature.
Diego recognized it immediately.
His father's.
But there was another signature.
Paulina's.
Marisol covered her mouth.
“She signed it.”
Diego's jaw tightened.
“She knew from the beginning.”
He turned another page.
A final document.
This one was dated only three months after Valentina's birth.
It contained a sentence that made Diego's blood run cold.
If Diego recovers his memory, activate Protocol Two.
Marisol stared.
“What is Protocol Two?”
“I don't know.”
Diego searched the cabinet.
Nothing.
Then he noticed a small red envelope.
He opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
A baby.
Valentina.
But the photograph was not taken after her birth.
It was taken before.
On the back was written:
The second child.
Diego stopped breathing.
Marisol looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
He shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Then another photograph fell from the envelope.
This one showed Marisol in the hospital.
Holding Valentina.
And beside her...
another woman was holding a second newborn baby.
Marisol stared at the photograph.
Her face went white.
“No.”
Diego looked at her.
“What?”
“I've seen her.”
“Who?”
“That woman.”
“Where?”
“At the hospital.”
“When?”
“The night you woke up.”
Diego turned the photograph over.
A name was written on the back.
Isabela Villaseñor.
He stared at it.
“Who is Isabela?”
Elena's voice suddenly came from behind them.
“Your sister.”
Diego turned.
His mother stood in the doorway.
Marisol looked at her.
“You had a daughter?”
Elena began crying.
“She died.”
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
Diego looked at the photograph.
“Then why is she holding a baby?”
Elena couldn't answer.
“Mother.”
She covered her face.
“I couldn't save her.”
“What happened?”
“She gave birth.”
“To whom?”
Elena looked at Valentina.
Then whispered:
“Twins.”
The room went silent.
Diego's heart stopped.
“Twins?”
Elena nodded.
“One baby was Valentina.”
Marisol stared at her.
“And the other?”
Elena began crying harder.
“We were told the second baby died.”
Diego looked at the photograph.
“But this picture was taken after.”
“Yes.”
“Then where is the second child?”
Elena shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Diego's expression became cold.
“Someone does.”
He looked again at the photograph.
Two newborn babies.
Two tiny faces.
One was Valentina.
The other had disappeared.
And suddenly, the mysterious message made sense.
The girl is not the only secret.
The DNA test had proven Valentina was Diego's daughter.
But it had also opened a door to a secret far more dangerous.
Because Diego hadn't fathered one child that night.
He had fathered twins.
And somewhere in the world...
his second child was still alive.
At the same moment, hundreds of kilometers away, a young woman sat alone in a small apartment.
She held an old photograph in her hands.
Two babies.
Two identical faces.
She traced one of them with her finger.
Then looked at the second.
A tear rolled down her cheek.
Her phone rang.
She answered.
“Hello?”
A man's voice spoke.
“Your brother knows about you.”
The young woman froze.
“What?”
“He found the photograph.”
Her breathing became unsteady.
“Does he know my name?”
“Not yet.”
“And the other baby?”
“Alive.”
She closed her eyes.
“Does Diego know?”
“No.”
A pause.
“Then keep it that way.”
The call ended.
The young woman looked at the photograph again.
On the back were four words:
You were never supposed to survive.
She whispered:
“Then why did you save me?”
There was no answer.
Only the sound of another incoming message.
She opened it.
A single photograph appeared.
Diego.
Marisol.
Valentina.
Together.
Underneath it was a warning:
If he finds you, everything ends.
The young woman stared at the screen.
Then slowly smiled through her tears.
“Maybe everything should end.”
She stood.
For three years, she had lived believing she had no family.
Now she knew the truth.
Her father was alive.
Her sister was alive.
And the man who had destroyed their family was still hiding behind the Villaseñor name.
She picked up her coat.
May you like
And for the first time in her life...
she decided to go home.
