Wesneida

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On the drive back to Penyon Road, he asked again if my mother had ever told me who my daddy was. “She never did,” I answered, “but the minute I saw you, I knew it was you.” “That’s right. It’s me.” He parked in front of our house and pressed two bills against my palm.“Here,” he said.“Buy yo’self something pretty. Something fit for a queen.”
The Darkest Child
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