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The voice on the other end belonged to the old godfather, Antonio Falcone. It was filled with an authority that assumed I was still the same meek girl his family could control.
“My games?” I scoffed. “Antonio, are you going senile? Your son brings his ‘dear sister’ into my home and freezes my credit cards, and you have the nerve to say I’m the one playing games?”
He was clearly stunned into silence, not expecting me to talk back so sharply.
“You…”
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