Chapter 20: London DNA Test*
1548 Words
Daniel didn’t sleep after Ada blocked David.
He sat in his study, 40 floors below her, staring at 3 DNA envelopes on his desk. Lagos lab: 99.99% Daniel. Lagos lab: Inconclusive David. London lab: Pending.
“Pending” was killing him faster than “Inconclusive” ever did.
He’d sent samples to London himself. Private jet. Courier he trusted with his life. Not money. Life. Because if Ada was carrying another man’s children, he needed to know before he fell deeper.
Before the lullaby. Before sleeping on the floor. Before buying Iya Basira’s restaurant for one plate of jollof.
`DHL Express` tracker on his laptop: `Out for delivery - London - 9:00am GMT`.
8:57am GMT now. 3 minutes.
His phone buzzed. Unknown UK number. Email with attachment: `Okafor_DNA_Results_Confidential.pdf`
Daniel didn’t open it for 60 seconds. Fear. Real fear. Not boardroom fear. Not hostile takeover fear. Father fear.
He clicked.
Page 1: `Subject 1: Daniel Okafor. Probability: 99.99% Match.`
Page 2: `Subject 2: David Okafor. Probability: Inconclusive - Sample degraded.`
Same as Lagos. No answers. Just more questions.
Daniel threw his pen across the room. “Useless!” he roared at empty walls. $200K for London lab. Same result.
He was about to close the file when he saw Page 3. Appendix. Small print. `Additional Notes:`
`Both samples show identical maternal mitochondrial DNA markers. Maternal lineage: Haplogroup L3. Region: West Africa, Yoruba subclade. Rare marker D-loop 16129C found in 0.03% of population. Note: This marker is also present in deceased female subject - Mrs. Victoria Okafor, 1998 autopsy file cross-reference.`
Daniel froze. Read it again. Then again.
`Mrs. Victoria Okafor. His mother. Deceased 1998.`
The babies shared a rare mitochondrial marker with his dead mother. 0.03% of the population.
Mitochondrial DNA = passed only from mother to child. Not father.
Meaning: Ada and Daniel’s mother shared maternal bloodline. Distant relatives? Same village? Or…
Daniel’s blood turned cold. He pulled up his mother’s old medical file from 1998. Scanned it himself. There it was. Marker D-loop 16129C. Circled by the coroner.
He called his PA at 3am Lagos time. “Get me every record on Mrs. Victoria Okafor’s family. Parents. Siblings. Village. Everything. Now.”
“Sir, it’s 3am—”
“NOW!” Daniel slammed the phone down.
*7:00am - Penthouse*
Ada woke up to Daniel standing at her window again. Back to her. Shoulders tense. He’d been there all night.
“Morning,” she said quietly.
Daniel didn’t turn. “Morning.” Voice flat. Empty.
Ada sat up slowly. Baby A kicked. Baby B fluttered. “You didn’t sleep.”
“No,” Daniel said. Still not turning. “I got the London DNA results.”
Ada’s heart stopped. Then restarted too fast. Beepbeepbeep on monitor. “And?”
“Inconclusive for David,” Daniel said. “99.99% for me. Same as Lagos.”
Lie. Half lie. He didn’t tell her about the mitochondrial marker. Not yet. Not until he knew what it meant.
Ada exhaled. Relief she hated herself for. “So… they’re yours.”
“On paper,” Daniel said. Finally turned. Eyes red. Not from no sleep. From something else. Shock. Fear. “On paper they’re mine, Ada.”
“What’s wrong?” Ada asked. She’d never seen Daniel look… lost. CEO never looked lost.
Daniel walked to her bed. Sat on the edge. Like last night on the floor, but this time on the mattress. Close.
“Ada,” he said slowly. “Did your mother ever tell you about her family? Her mother? Her village?”
Ada frowned. “Why? She’s from Surulere. Grew up there. Mother died when I was 10. No siblings. Why?”
“Your grandmother,” Daniel pressed. “What was her name? Where was she born?”
“I… I don’t know,” Ada said. “Mummy never talked about her. Said it was painful. Said her mother abandoned her when she was 5. Raised by aunties in Surulere.”
Daniel closed his eyes. `Abandoned. 5 years old. Surulere.`
Same story as his mother. Victoria Okafor was “adopted” by the Okafor family at age 5 after being “found” in Surulere. Family secret. Shame. “No Okafor traces roots to Surulere,” his father always said.
“Ada,” Daniel said quietly. “The London lab found something else. Rare genetic marker. In Baby B. And in my mother. Same marker. 0.03% of people have it.”
Ada went still. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying… I don’t know what I’m saying,” Daniel admitted. Rare for him. “I’m saying your mother and my mother might be… related. Distant cousins. Or sisters separated as children. I’m saying these babies might be my children by blood. But they’re also my blood by mother.”
The room went silent. Even Lagos outside felt quiet.
Ada processed it slowly. If true, Daniel wasn’t just captor. He was family. Twisted, controlling family, but family.
“If my mother and your mother are related,” Ada whispered, “then you and I are…”
“Distant cousins,” Daniel finished. Voice rough. “3rd cousins maybe. 4th. Far enough to be legal. Wrong enough to feel like sin.”
Ada pulled her hands away from him like he burned her. “No. No, Daniel. That’s disgusting.”
“It’s not disgusting,” Daniel said sharply. Then softer: “It’s Yoruba. Our grandparents married cousins. Our parents too. It’s only ‘disgusting’ now because we’re rich and educated and ashamed of where we came from.”
“Don’t justify this!” Ada stood. Too fast. Dizziness hit. Baby B spiked. 145 bpm.
Daniel caught her before she fell. Held her tight. “I’m not justifying anything! I’m telling you why I can’t let you go, Ada! Because you’re not just the mother of my children. You might be the last piece of my mother I have left!”
Ada pushed against his chest. “Let go! You’re twisting this to keep me!”
“Maybe I am!” Daniel shouted. Then stopped himself. Breathed. “Maybe I am twisting it. But Ada, if your mother is my mother’s niece… if we share blood… then David can’t be the father. Not biologically. Not without…” He couldn’t say it.
Incest. The word hung unsaid.
Ada sank to her knees on the floor. Same spot she sang the lullaby. “No. No no. My mother was a cleaner. Your mother was Mrs. Okafor. This can’t be true.”
Daniel knelt with her. On the floor. Again. “I don’t want it to be true either,” he whispered. “I wanted to hate David for taking you. Now I might have to hate fate for making you mine twice.”
He took her hand. Pressed it to his forehead like he was praying. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I locked you up for control. Now I’m keeping you because… because losing you means losing her again.”
Ada cried. Not for Daniel. Not for David. For her mother who never spoke of her own mother. For babies who might be product of 2 branches of same broken family tree.
Baby B kicked weakly. Monitor: 150 bpm. Stress.
Daniel felt it through her stomach under his hand. He stopped talking. Stopped explaining. Just held her.
“Breathe,” he whispered into her hair. “4 seconds in. 6 seconds out. Forget DNA. Forget mothers. Forget London. Just breathe for them.”
Ada breathed. Sobs turning to shaky inhales. Monitor slowed. 145…140…135.
After 10 minutes, Ada whispered into his chest: “I don’t care whose blood this is, Daniel. I don’t care about mothers or markers. I care that Baby B is dying every time I panic. So stop telling me things that make me panic.”
Daniel nodded against her hair. “Okay. No more DNA talk. No more London. No more mothers. Just us. Just babies. Just calm.”
He lifted her back to bed. Tucked blanket around her. Then lay on the floor again. Back against mattress.
“I won’t tell anyone,” he said quietly. “Not David. Not board. Not even you again, unless you ask. This secret dies with us. For Baby B.”
Ada stared at ceiling. “Why are you good to me sometimes, Daniel? When you’re so cruel other times?”
“Because you’re good to me when I don’t deserve it,” Daniel said simply. “You sang to me. You chose calm. You blocked David. You’re teaching me how to be human again, Ada. And I’m terrified I’ll forget how.”
Silence. Heavy but not hostile.
Downstairs, David got news from his PI: `London lab results in. Both Okafor brothers inconclusive. But maternal marker matches Victoria Okafor. You’re not the father, sir. Biologically impossible.`
David crumpled the paper. “Then why does she remember the compass tattoo? Why did she say ‘it was always you’?”
Upstairs, Ada fell asleep to sound of Daniel’s breathing on the floor. Not CEO. Not captor. Just a man who lost his mother twice.
And Daniel stayed awake, watching her, thinking: `If she’s my cousin, I’ll still protect her. If she’s not, I’ll still keep her. Blood or not, she’s mine now.`
- Writer
