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If he wanted to play dirty, I was going to teach him how it’s really done. But first, I needed to understand why my own son wanted me gone. It had all started three days earlier when Michael came to my house with a radiant smile I hadn’t seen in years.
He was holding a golden envelope, the kind the most exclusive travel agencies use. “Mom,” he said, hugging me with a strange enthusiasm. “I have a wonderful surprise for you.