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moment my mother had orchestrated from beyond the grave.
“Daniel Richardson. Your brother, Ethan. The one who died in 2002.”
Michelle collapsed into her chair.
Nathan’s face went from red to white to green.
And Ethan, he stood frozen, his $15,000 tuxedo suddenly looking like a costume on a broken mannequin.
I unfolded the laboratory report slowly, the official continue reading …
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