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her.”
I woke up from the coma and heard my son whisper, “Don’t open your eyes”… my husband and my own sister were waiting for me to d!e so they could take everything.
“Go sit with your Aunt Claire.”
Claire.
My sister.
The one who braided my hair when we were little. The one who cried in the hospital, saying she’d give her life for me.
Her heels clicked into the room.
“Let him say goodbye,” she said. “The notary will be here soon.” SAY
