Relief washed over me. “Really? You’d do that?” “Of course, darling. We’re family.”
So I handed over every dollar—everything I’d spent nearly a year building. Her smile stretched wider as she slipped the money into her designer purse. “I’ll start tonight,” she promised. “This is going to be perfect.”
I trusted her.
Days passed with no updates. Every text I sent came back with a curt reply: “Still working on it” or “These things take time.” Calls went unanswered. Then her phone went straight to voicemail.
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