My Family Laughed at a Cruel Christmas Card About Me So I Left the Country and Let Them Find the Folder

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“Myrtle.” James’s voice sounded tired. “I’m sorry to bother you, but we need to talk.”

My stomach clenched. “Is someone hurt?”

“No, nothing like that. But David and Zuri have been persistent. They’ve hired a private investigator to find you.”

I sank into my chair, feeling the old familiar weight of anxiety settling on my chest. “What kind of investigator?continue reading …