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Family.

Her father had said it a hundred times – family is not who you chose in life. Family is who you're stuck with and who sticks by you. Family sticks together – good times, bad times. No matter what.

What was family to her now?

An empty word.

A hollow promise.

She turned to face Vespasia, her Aunt Vespasia, a stranger, who stood towering over her like some wicked ogre from the fairy tales her father had read to her as a child. She imagined that she took her hand and squeezed her heart, squeezed so hard that all the blood drained out of it, all the life and all the emotions squeezed between her fingers until that big, beating, feeling heart of hers withered and turned into a tiny, hard stone.

She would not cry in front of this stranger. Instinctively she knew, she must not show weakness in front of this woman.

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