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it to my grave if I had to.”
“Then keep it there,” she whispered. “Bianca, please. You don’t understand what you’re about to do.”
“Do you know what you’ve been doing for twenty-eight years?”
My thumb hovered, then I forwarded it to the same forty-eight contacts and pressed send.
The dings sounded different this time.
My mother lunged. “Delete it! Make them continue reading …
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