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is your fault.”
Edith’s voice carried through walls late one night.
“Your gambling, your debts, your weakness.”
“My weakness?”
Christopher’s response was defensive, desperate.
“You wanted him dead. I wanted money. You wanted murder. And now we have nothing. No money, no house, no future.”
“We have each other.”
Edith’s bitter laugh.
“That’s the worst part.”
Neighbors continue reading …
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