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... to happen. I had agreed to Dad’s demand that we tell Mom everything before we put her life in danger from drug cartel assassins. I mean, I knew we had to tell her, I just didn’t want to be there when she found out. To me, telling Mom was the most dangerous part of the whole operation.
As I sat there, stewing in my fear, Mom placed a big pot of beef stew on the table and Dad began ladling it into my bowl. Then, he doled out Mom’s, and finally, his own. We each reached for a piece of garl ...
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