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I told them, the dining room stayed silent long enough for the candles to start feeling loud.
My father’s mouth opened, then closed.
Preston reached for my phone.
I moved it before he touched it.
“Don’t,” I said.
His face flushed. “What the hell is this?”
“A closing notice.”
“You expect us to believe you have sixty-eight million dollars?”
“No,” I said. “I continue reading …
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