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from them, calmly cutting into a piece of beef, was Celeste’s husband, Marcus Vale.
Daniel stumbled backward so fast his shoulder hit the doorframe.
“What the hell is this?” he shouted.
My father did not raise his voice. “Breakfast.”
Marcus looked up, eyes cold. “Your favorite, apparently.”
Daniel’s gaze snapped to me. “Claire. What did you do?”
I placed continue reading …
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