That’s what I did that last day and a half. What I stayed up all night doing. Rewriting pages and pages of notes in handwriting easy to forge because I already knew it so well. I constructed an entirely different life for Barron; the kind of life where he’d want to save the head of a crime family because Zacharov is Cloe’s dad. The kind of life where my brothers and I worked together for noble purposes.
The easiest lies to tell are the ones you want to be true.
Grandad frowns, and then understanding smoothes his features out into shock. “You mean he never met with Zacharov?”
I shake my head. “Nope. He just thinks he did.”
“Did you meet with Zacharov?”
“Cloe wanted us to take care of things ourselves,” I say. “So, also no.”
He groans. “This is trouble heaped on top of trouble.”
I giv
