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Three months after the wedding, at Veronica’s birthday dinner, I went to the bathroom and ran into Andrew’s aunt Dolores in the hallway. She hugged me tightly and whispered, “You have no idea what they did to the last one.”
I laughed it off at first. But her eyes didn’t match her smile. She told me Andrew’s ex-wife hadn’t disappeared—she’d left. Not before being slowly reshaped into someone she didn’t recognize. Loved at first. Controlled later. Her mistake had been saying no. No to moving closer. No to babies on demand. No to surrendering her life entirely.
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