“Who the hell are you, Lucy?” “Promise me you will never tell anyone. They are their mother’s sons. I used to go by the name Lucy Iovelli, which was my natural father’s surname. Why do you look so sad?” She opened her eyes wider and stifled her emotions. “It is Michelle, John. Her expression was a little changed, less innocent, more discerning. An old man with a bent back who limped in, slow and stiff, leaning heavily on a cane.
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