He stares at me for a minute, but he knows me well enough by now to know I’m not backing down. Sighing, he pushes his glasses up on his nose and starts talking. “I sold my first painting when I was eleven. Not for much, couple hundred bucks I think, and just to a family friend. They hung it in their living room, where all their rich friends could see, and seemingly overnight, everyone wanted a painting from the art-world wonder kid. I made my first million by fifteen. My parents were supportive but protective. They wouldn’t allow anyone to photograph me, and they never let me make appearances in person, so I essentially stayed hidden the entire time I was ‘famous.’ Kept going to school, kept living a regular life, painting on the weekends and during school breaks, just making millions in my spare time.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but his eyes fall. “By the time they died, I’d already moved into the brownstone, and was no longer a minor, obviously, but I still did the whole never-show-my-face routine because it had worked for me so far. No one ever saw Jackson Bennett. And the money I made combined with my parents’ estate set me up financially for life.”

It’s like he’s telling me the story of someone else. He sounds so detached from the whole experience, like he’s reading from a Wikipedia page.

“Is Jackson Bennett your real name?” I latch on to the small details, still struggling to connect the dots and paint the full picture.

He shakes his head. “Not fully. My legal name is Jackson Bennett Thomas. As things took off, my parents didn’t want me to use my real last name, so we went with my middle name instead.” He takes a step closer to me.

I take an equal step, farther away. Because I can’t believe this is happening tonight. I knew it was coming, I knew something would eventually blow us up, but I wasn’t ready for it to be tonight.

“Sadie, I didn’t mean to lie. Truly, Jackson Bennett died in that car with my parents. I’m not that person anymore, and I won’t be ever again.” His eyes are pleading, and he reaches out for me.

And I want to go to him. To tell him I understand. I’m tempted to forgive him, because even with this betrayal, he’s still the best man I could ever hope for.

But I can’t let myself have this, this happiness and this success. It’s too much. And I am still not enough.

“I can appreciate that, Jack, but it doesn’t change the fact that you kept this huge part of yourself, your life, your childhood, secret from me.” I hug myself a little tighter. “I told you things. Real things. When you asked about my parents, I told you the whole truth.”