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brightened.
“See? I knew you’d understand.”
“You raised me for eighteen years,” I said. “Food, shelter, basic parenting. What the law required. What any parent gives their child.”
My mother’s smile faltered.
“That’s not fair,” she said.
“You paid for Jeffrey’s MBA,” I said calmly. “Eighty thousand.”
My father waved a hand.
“An investment in his future.”
“You continue reading …
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