« Isabel…? » Roberto whispered.
—Hello, Roberto —she said calmly—. It’s been a long time.
Roberto fell to his knees.
« Forgive me! I was wrong!
I thought they weren’t mine… just because they were dark.
I thought that couldn’t exist in my blood! »
Samuel, the geneticist, turned on a tablet.
—Actually, Mr. Roberto —he said—,
we perform DNA tests as part of the protocol.
The result appeared on the screen:
PROBABILITY OF PATERNITY: 99.99%
“You are our father,” Samuel continued. “
And about our skin color…
we investigated your family tree.
Your great-great-grandfather was an African missionary who arrived in Spain in the 19th century.
The family hid that truth because of racism.
The genes remained dormant… until us.”
Roberto’s eyes filled with horror.
—That means…
« It means, » Samuel said, »
that it’s genetic atavism.
You gave us those genes…
and then punished us for them. »
Roberto cried like a child.
—Please… save me… I’ll do anything…
The five children looked at their mother.
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