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to talk about the trip,” Alexander said.
My husband took my stepdaughter to Christmas with his ex and told me I wasn’t her real mother—so I chose myself, walked away, and rebuilt a life they never saw coming.
His jaw tightened. “Mariana.”
“Camila is eating breakfast.”
Alexander’s face shifted. He had wanted to control the announcement, to frame it as a gift rather than an exile. He crouched beside Camila and smiled too widely.
