I recognized the header immediately.

“It’s a DNA report,” Nathan whispered, his finger tracing the lines of black text.

“The date on it is from three months ago,” I noted, looking at the stamp at the bottom.

“He had a sample of Lily’s hair taken when you were still living in the apartment,” Mr. Hayes said, pointing to the attached chain-of-custody report.

“He knew,” Nathan said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “He knew with absolute certainty that she was my daughter, and he still tried to erase her.”

“He didn’t just try to erase her,” I said, opening the thick leather binder. “He tracked her.”

The binder contained pages of typed reports from a private investigation firm.

There were photos of me pushing Lily in her stroller in the park.

There were photos of my modest apartment building, and copies of my monthly bank statements.

“He was monitoring your finances,” Mr. Hayes said, turning a page. “Every time you fell behind on rent, he made sure the landlords wouldn’t offer you an extension.”