“You are mine, Annabel, and nothing shall ever make me give you up. “Father,” she cried, “I have to live!” He misunderstood her. Michelle was on her like a fly, asking her questions about her past foster homes she did her best to avoid, pretending to be swamped every night with sudden reams of homework and unable to be reached by phone. A quick flush stained her cheeks. The preparations to meet him were immense, roses were planted everywhere, white and drooping with honeyed fragrance. .
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