If the test is positive, then what is the problem? Dave asked, his voice dropping to a whisper. Why did you say Patricia dug her own grave?
Patricia tried to stand up, her silver bracelets clattering loudly against her crystal water glass. This is ridiculous! She reached across the table, her manicured hand clawing for the papers. It is a faulty laboratory test! We all know how unreliable these mail-in kits are. They mix up samples all the time. Robert, give me that paper right now. We are going to throw it away and have a proper, certified medical professional handle this.
Sit down, Patricia, Robert said. His voice wasn’t loud, but it possessed a cold, commanding authority that I had never heard him use before. It was the voice of a man who spent decades running a business empire, a voice that brooked no argument.
Patricia sank back into her chair, her chest heaving as she glared at me with pure, unadulterated hatred. She looked like a cornered animal, her perfect facade crumbling by the second.
Robert turned his attention back to Dave. As your mother told you, she wanted to protect the family legacy. She wanted to make sure that the inheritance went only to those of true biological relation. So, when your wife ordered this test, she didn’t just order a simple paternity test to prove Sam was yours. She checked off the box for a comprehensive family reconstruction mapping, comparing all of our biological markers to establish a complete family tree.
Dave nodded slowly, still not understanding the implication. Okay, and?
And, Robert continued, his voice cracking slightly with an emotion he tried desperately to suppress, the results are very clear about the maternal and paternal lineages. It states here that you, Dave, share a ninety-nine point nine percent maternal DNA match with Patricia. She is, without a doubt, your biological mother.
Of course she is, Dave said, a small, uneasy laugh escaping his throat. What does that have to do with anything?
Robert turned the page, pointing a trembling finger at a section of bold text. But according to the paternal comparison database, which mapped your DNA against mine using the samples Patricia insisted I provide last week… there is a zero percent probability that I am your biological father.
The words seemed to hang in the air, heavy and impossible to comprehend…..
