She reached into her bag and laid three thick binders flat on the table, one after another, the sound of each one landing like a door closing.

What was in them was, in the plain assessment of the judge who read it, devastating.

The metadata from the altered laboratory files, showing exactly when and by whom another woman’s results had been relabeled with my name.

Emails between Julian and the administrator at his cheap specialist’s office — the one he had bribed to show the doctors only the false records.

The bank transfers, dated and traced, running from the company through Evelyn’s paper shell company and back.

And, at the center of it, in Julian’s own words, in a text message to his mother that he had never imagined anyone would read: Once she believes she’s barren, she’ll accept whatever minimal settlement I offer.