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The Mafia Boss My Stepmum Sold Me To
I was twenty-one when my stepmother told me to pack a small bag and dress nicely. She smiled too much, the way people do when they’re lying. My father had been dead for years, and she reminded me often that I was a burden she no longer wished to carry. She owed money dangerous money. When the black cars stopped in front of the house, I understood everything too late. The man who stepped...
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