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hotel.
My mother threw scalding soup in my face for saying no to her stepdaughter. “Give her all your things — or get out!”
I didn’t answer.
She called twelve times. Violet texted thirty-one.
Ungrateful witch.
Bring back the car.
Mom says she’s changing the locks.
You’ll regret this.
I sent one message.
Do whatever you think is smart.
They did.
The next morning, Violet posted a photo from the driveway, posing beside my car with sunglasses on.
