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No Welcome Home

ELENA

Dominic had booked my trip and someone slid a folded paper under my door with a flight time on it and nothing else, and that was how I knew it was happening. I was going home.

I pulled the case down from the top of the closet and put it open on the bed. I had to start packing now.

I started with the plain things. Two sweaters, because the house in Italy was always cold in the mornings no matter the season.

I was going back into that house as the daughter who'd been sold off, and I'd ...

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