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survived this long.”
Diane flinched.
“She cut Lily’s hair,” he said. “She hurt a six-year-old. She told her not to tell. And you are standing on my porch asking us to protect Vanessa’s reputation.”
“She is my daughter.”
“Lily is mine.”
The words hung there.
Diane looked past him at me.
Something bitter moved across her face.
“You never liked Vanessa.”
“No,” continue reading …
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