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Dix slaps the table so hard I jump. “No, you’re not lucky! Stop that shit.� His trademark growl is back. “Look at you. Pretty, smart as a whip, funny, kind. You’re a shit cook but he’s rich so it don’t matter. Stop telling yourself you’re stupid. That you’re somehow responsible for your asswipe husband’s inexcusable behavior. And that you’re lucky a man like Anton would want you. He’s lucky, you hear?�
