Chapter 3 — The DNA Test
Chapter 3 — The DNA Test
Diego didn't sleep that night.
Neither did Marisol.
But for completely different reasons.
Marisol lay beside Valentina in the guest bedroom, staring into the darkness.
Diego remained in his office, staring at the DNA test kit on his desk.
He had ordered it before midnight.
Not because he doubted Marisol.
He didn't.
He ordered it because the world he knew had suddenly become unreliable.
His father had supposedly been dead for almost two years.
Gabriel was dead.
The payment to Gabriel was real.
The handwriting was his father's.
And someone had spent three years preventing him from knowing his own daughter existed.
Diego needed one thing he could trust.
Science.
A fact nobody could manipulate.
A fact that could not be altered by lawyers, family members, money, or lies.
Valentina was either his daughter.
Or she wasn't.
And if she was—
everything about his life had to change.
At 6:17 a.m., Diego's lawyer entered the office.
“You haven't slept.”
“No.”
“You should.”
“I can't.”
The lawyer placed a folder on the desk.
“The laboratory can expedite the test.”
“How fast?”
“Twenty-four hours.”
Diego looked at him.
“Too long.”
“Diego.”
“I've already lost three years.”
His lawyer sighed.
“You know what this result could mean.”
“Yes.”
“If she's your daughter, the press will explode.”
“I don't care.”
“Your board will care.”
“They can wait.”
“Paulina's family will care.”
Diego looked up.
“I don't care about Paulina.”
“And your father—”
Diego's expression hardened.
“Don't mention him.”
The lawyer fell silent.
Diego picked up the kit.
“Get the doctor here.”
Marisol was in the kitchen when Diego found her.
Valentina sat at the table eating pancakes.
She had chocolate around her mouth.
Diego smiled.
“Good morning.”
Valentina waved.
“Daddy!”
The word still affected him.
Every time.
He walked over and kissed the top of her head.
“Good morning.”
Valentina pointed at her plate.
“More.”
Diego laughed.
“More?”
“Yes.”
Marisol looked at him.
“She thinks you are a restaurant now.”
“I can handle that.”
He reached for the plate.
“More pancakes coming.”
Marisol watched him.
There was something almost painfully natural about it.
Diego belonged beside Valentina.
He didn't know how to be a father yet.
But his body seemed to understand.
He returned with another pancake.
Valentina smiled.
“Thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
She looked at him seriously.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Are you staying?”
Diego froze.
Marisol looked down.
The question had been simple.
But Diego understood what it meant.
Valentina had spent three years watching adults come and go.
She needed to know whether he was another temporary person.
He crouched beside her.
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
He swallowed.
“Forever.”
Valentina smiled.
“Okay.”
Then she went back to eating.
Diego looked at Marisol.
She had tears in her eyes.
The doctor arrived forty minutes later.
He explained everything carefully.
The samples would be taken from Diego and Valentina.
A buccal swab.
Simple.
Painless.
The results would be sent directly to Diego's attorney.
Valentina looked suspiciously at the cotton swab.
“What is that?”
“A tiny test,” the doctor said.
“For what?”
“To see how much you look like your daddy.”
Valentina looked at Diego.
“I already look like him.”
Everyone laughed.
Diego didn't.
Because she was right.
The swab took less than a minute.
When it was over, Valentina returned to her pancakes.
Diego watched the doctor seal the samples.
“Twenty-four hours,” the doctor repeated.
Diego nodded.
“Thank you.”
After the doctor left, silence settled over the kitchen.
Marisol sat across from Diego.
“You didn't have to do this.”
“I know.”
“You believe me?”
“Yes.”
“Then why?”
He looked at her.
“Because I need something nobody can question.”
She understood.
“The world will question it.”
“Exactly.”
He leaned back.
“I don't want anyone to ever tell Valentina that she isn't mine.”
Marisol's expression softened.
“You would have believed me.”
“I do.”
“Then why are you afraid?”
Diego looked toward the window.
“Because my entire life has been built on things I believed were true.”
He looked back at her.
“And I'm discovering they weren't.”
By noon, the story had already leaked.
A photograph appeared online.
Diego leaving the mansion.
Another showed Marisol.
Another showed Valentina.
The headline was everywhere.
BILLIONAIRE DIEGO VILLASEÑOR SECRETLY FATHERED CHILD WITH FORMER EMPLOYEE?
Marisol's face went pale.
“No.”
Diego took the phone from her.
“Don't read it.”
“They know.”
“Yes.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Nothing.”
“They'll destroy her.”
“They won't.”
“They already have pictures.”
“I'll stop it.”
“How?”
“Money.”
Marisol shook her head.
“You can't buy everything.”
Diego looked at her.
“No.”
He paused.
“But I can protect my daughter.”
His legal team worked immediately.
They demanded the photographs be removed.
They threatened lawsuits.
Security was increased.
The mansion gates were closed.
But none of it stopped the speculation.
By afternoon, reporters were outside.
By evening, helicopters were circling the property.
And then Paulina appeared.
She arrived with her attorney.
Diego met her in the foyer.
“You shouldn't be here.”
“I have a right to speak to you.”
“No.”
She stared at him.
“You're destroying everything because of a woman who lied to you.”
“She didn't lie.”
“You don't know that.”
“I know enough.”
Paulina's attorney stepped forward.
“My client believes there are serious questions regarding Marisol's intentions.”
Diego looked at him.
“Choose your next words carefully.”
Paulina smiled.
“You're emotional.”
“No.”
Diego's voice was ice cold.
“I'm finally paying attention.”
Paulina's smile disappeared.
“You think this child will make you happy?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Diego looked toward the staircase.
“She's already my daughter in my heart.”
Paulina's eyes hardened.
“What if the test says otherwise?”
Diego answered immediately.
“Then I'll accept it.”
Paulina smiled.
“And if it says she's yours?”
Diego stepped closer.
“Then you'll never come near her again.”
Paulina's face went white.
That night, Marisol found Diego on the balcony.
“You shouldn't threaten her.”
“I didn't.”
“You did.”
“I told her the truth.”
Marisol stood beside him.
“She won't stop.”
“I know.”
“She's powerful.”
“So am I.”
“That's what worries me.”
He looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because powerful people always think they can solve everything.”
Diego was silent.
Marisol continued.
“I don't need you to fight everyone.”
“What do you need?”
She looked at him.
“I need you to believe me.”
He nodded.
“I do.”
“Then don't become another person who decides everything for me.”
He understood.
“I won't.”
She smiled faintly.
“Good.”
At 2:00 a.m., Diego received an email.
The subject line contained only one word.
RESULTS.
He stared at it.
His hand hovered over the screen.
For the first time in his life, Diego was afraid to open an email.
He clicked.
The report appeared.
He read the first line.
Then the second.
His heart began pounding.
Probability of paternity: 99.9998%.
He sat back.
Closed his eyes.
And exhaled.
Valentina was his.
No doubt.
No ambiguity.
No room for anyone to rewrite the truth.
He whispered:
“My daughter.”
Then he stood.
Marisol was asleep when he entered the room.
He stopped beside the bed.
Valentina was curled against her mother.
Diego looked at them.
For three years, this scene had existed without him.
Now he stood inside it.
He wanted to wake them.
He wanted to scream.
He wanted to tell the world.
Instead, he quietly sat beside Valentina.
She stirred.
Her eyes opened halfway.
“Daddy?”
Diego smiled.
“Yes.”
“Is it morning?”
“Not yet.”
“Why are you here?”
He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead.
“Because I wanted to see you.”
She smiled sleepily.
“Okay.”
She closed her eyes.
Diego looked at Marisol.
“She's mine.”
Marisol nodded.
“Yes.”
“The test confirmed it.”
“I knew it would.”
He looked down.
“I missed three years.”
Marisol's eyes filled.
“Yes.”
“I can't forgive myself.”
“You didn't know.”
“I should have.”
“You tried.”
“Not hard enough.”
She sat up.
“Diego.”
He looked at her.
“You cannot punish yourself for something you were prevented from knowing.”
He swallowed.
“But I lost her.”
“You didn't lose her.”
Marisol touched Valentina's hair.
“You found her.”
Morning came.
At 7:30, Diego walked into the breakfast room carrying a folder.
His lawyer was waiting.
“So?”
Diego placed the report on the table.
“She's my daughter.”
The lawyer nodded.
“I assumed.”
“No.”
Diego looked at him.
“I need you to understand.”
He picked up his phone.
“Today, every legal document changes.”
“What do you mean?”
“Valentina becomes my legal heir.”
The lawyer blinked.
“Immediately?”
“Yes.”
“That's a major decision.”
“I know.”
“She'll inherit—”
“Everything necessary.”
“Diego—”
“I don't care what it costs.”
His lawyer stared at him.
“You're talking about billions.”
“I know.”
“And what about your board?”
“They'll adjust.”
“What about your father’s trust?”
Diego's expression changed.
“Especially that.”
The family trust had been established decades earlier.
It controlled a significant portion of Diego's personal wealth.
His father had created it.
The beneficiaries were carefully structured.
But there was one clause Diego had never examined closely.
The lawyer opened the file.
“There is something you should see.”
“What?”
“A provision concerning undisclosed heirs.”
Diego frowned.
“What provision?”
The lawyer turned the document around.
“If an undisclosed direct descendant is discovered, the trustee must review the inheritance structure.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
Diego read the clause.
Then his eyes stopped.
The wording was strange.
Almost deliberate.
Any direct descendant concealed from the primary beneficiary through unlawful interference shall receive immediate protected beneficiary status.
Diego looked up.
“Who added this?”
His lawyer shook his head.
“Your father.”
Diego stared at the page.
His father's handwriting appeared again.
The same handwriting as the note attached to Gabriel's payment.
His stomach tightened.
“What was my father planning?”
Before the lawyer could answer, the office door opened.
A security officer entered.
“Sir.”
“What?”
“We found something.”
“Where?”
“In the west wing.”
“What?”
“An old storage room.”
Diego stood.
“What did you find?”
The officer hesitated.
“A box.”
“What kind of box?”
“Personal.”
“Whose?”
“We believe it belonged to your father.”
Diego looked at the lawyer.
Then at the doorway.
“Take me there.”
The box sat beneath a layer of dust.
Diego recognized it immediately.
His father's handwriting was on the lid.
D.V.
He opened it.
Inside were photographs.
Documents.
Letters.
Bank records.
And one photograph that made him stop breathing.
Marisol.
Pregnant.
Standing outside his office.
The photograph had been taken three years earlier.
Diego picked it up.
“How did he have this?”
The lawyer examined the back.
There was a date.
And a handwritten sentence.
She knows about the child.
Diego's blood ran cold.
He turned over another photograph.
It showed Marisol leaving the office.
A man stood behind her.
Diego recognized him.
His father's security chief.
The same man who had worked for the family for twenty years.
He was alive.
Diego whispered:
“That's impossible.”
His lawyer looked at him.
“What?”
“He died.”
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
The lawyer stared at the photograph.
“Apparently not.”
Suddenly, footsteps sounded in the hallway.
The security officer turned.
A shadow moved beyond the door.
“Who is that?”
The guard reached for his weapon.
The shadow disappeared.
Diego ran into the corridor.
“Stop!”
Nothing.
Only silence.
Then he noticed something on the floor.
A white envelope.
He picked it up.
His name was written across the front.
Inside was a single sheet.
Congratulations, Diego.
He read the next line.
You finally found your daughter.
Then:
Now ask yourself why your father spent three years making sure you never would.
Diego stared at the words.
At the bottom was one final sentence.
And ask Marisol what she was carrying the night she left your office.
His eyes widened.
He immediately turned.
“Where is Marisol?”
The security officer answered:
“With Valentina.”
Diego ran.
He found them in the garden.
Valentina was sitting on the grass.
Marisol was beside her.
Diego approached slowly.
“Marisol.”
She looked up.
His expression frightened her.
“What happened?”
He held up the letter.
“Someone knows everything.”
Her face went pale.
“What?”
“He knows about Valentina.”
Marisol stood.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
He stepped closer.
“But he knows what happened three years ago.”
Marisol looked at the letter.
Then at Diego.
“Did he mention the office?”
“Yes.”
Her hands began shaking.
“What did he say?”
Diego looked directly into her eyes.
“He asked me what you were carrying when you left my office.”
Marisol stopped breathing.
Diego noticed.
“You know.”
She looked away.
“Marisol.”
She closed her eyes.
“I didn't want to tell you.”
“What?”
“That day…”
Her voice broke.
“I wasn't only pregnant.”
Diego stared at her.
“What else?”
Marisol slowly reached beneath her blouse.
From a chain around her neck, she pulled out a tiny metal key.
Diego looked at it.
“What is that?”
“Something I found in your father's office.”
“When?”
“The day I tried to see you.”
She closed her hand around it.
“He gave it to me.”
Diego froze.
“My father?”
Marisol nodded.
“He told me that if I ever wanted to keep Valentina safe…”
She looked at him.
“I should never tell you what was inside the box.”
Diego's face hardened.
“What box?”
May you like
Marisol whispered:
“The box your father told me to hide.”
