He stared at me, wet-eyed, wanting so badly to believe me that it hurt to see.

“How?” he whispered.

“Chloe, you don’t understand what he’s built.

My name’s on all of it.

There’s no version of this where I don’t—”

“Your name is on all of it because he made sure of that,” I said.

“But your name being on it isn’t the end of the story.

It’s the beginning of a different one.