Looking at the old withered passbook, Wynter said, “Grandma, I have my own money.”


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    “You did. But now that you’re kicked out of the house, those people in that family would certainly cut


    your credit card off.” Margaret caressed her long hair. “You just want to make me happy, don’t you?”


    Wynter remained smiling. “Grandma, I-”


    But before Wynter could finish her sentence, Margaret’s old phone started ringing. It


    was loud and piercing.


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