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you.”
My face crumpled before I could stop it.
“She knew?”
Clayton folded the paper carefully.
“She suspected. And she believed your future needed walls.”
Walls.
Not hugs. Not promises. Not “we’ll figure something out.”
Walls with legal force.
My grandmother had looked at me when I was six years old and seen a child who might one day be cornered by the people continue reading …
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