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Not figuratively—no, I’m talking career-ending, legacy-shattering, front-page scandal with enough dirt to bury every attempt at redemption.
All I have to do is open my mouth. Hand everything to my aunt.
She’d love that. Might even smile, if her facial muscles haven’t fossilized yet.
Of course, giving her that win would be like handing a butcher your neck and thanking her for the cut.
But leaving things as they are? That’s not an optio ...
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