“Ron’s not really your Dad,” Mom said it flatly, like she’d asked me to pass the salt at the dinner. “Only reason I married Ron was to get out ofHowardCity. Here, you remember George; he’s your real dad. ”
I studied the picture of mom’s soldier sweetheart. This dark, furry werewolf in navy dress bore no resemblance to my freckled, face and straight brown hair. Was this lie her capstone in a life dedicated to destroying her daughter? Did she really despise Ron so much she would take his only child from him? Mutely, I placed the picture on the table, biting my lip so I wouldn’t cry.
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