She handed the newborn baby directly to Richard.

Nathan stared at the screen, his face completely pale.

“That baby,” Nathan whispered, pointing a shaking finger. “Who is that baby?”

I looked at Nathan, my heart pounding against my ribs.

“That baby is you, Nathan,” I said.

The boardroom went dead silent.

The rain continued to beat against the glass outside.

Nathan turned his gaze slowly toward Richard.

Richard did not look back at him; instead, his eyes were fixed on the tablet screen.

Mr. Hayes moved closer to the table, his eyes wide.

The video continued to play, showing my mother crying as Richard walked out of the room with the child.

Then, the camera focused on a document lying on the bedside table.

The camera zoomed in on the mother’s name.

The camera zoomed closer to the paper, revealing the elegant, fading cursive at the top of the certificate.

The name written there was Margaret Alice Whitmore.

Below it lay a second document, stamped with the seal of a state adoption agency.

It listed the adoptive father as Richard Whitmore, and the child’s name simply as Baby Boy Doe.