“No,” she shakes her head, her voice strong and sure and the belief resting behind her words steadfast. “I don’t believe that for a second, Malcolm. I don’t care how real it was, it was still just a piece, and there is always more to the story. We don’t know how it ends, but I know my brother is nothing like our father. You have to believe that, Malcolm.”

She reaches up to tap his temple with a finger, “Maybe you can think like him— it’s literally your job to think like people like him, Malcolm.” She moves her hand to his chest, over his heart. “But in here… you are not the same. You never have been.” With that, she leans in close and wraps her arms around his neck in a hug.