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“Nolan, please. We can see a doctor. We can do a paternity test.”
“You’re throwing your pregnant wife out because of a feeling?”
He leaned over the railing.
By 7:05, I was standing on the porch in the rain with one suitcase, no wallet because he had kept the joint cards, and a phone sitting at three percent battery.
The door slammed behind me.
Two hours later, I was in a cheap motel room paid for with the emergency cash I had hidden in my car. My hands rested over my stomach, shaking.
Unknown number.
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