He had been worked the same way I had.

He’d just been worked toward believing the worst about me, while I’d been worked toward believing the worst about myself.

We had both been handed a false story by a master of them, and we had both, to our shame, believed.

The difference was that I had gone looking for the truth, and he had simply taken the version that let him leave.

“Elise,” he said hoarsely, not looking up. “The documents she showed me. Your signature was—”

“Forged,” Harrison said.