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WE'RE FOOLS

"Ayana Salma De’Mario? What is this? Is this a joke or something? Or am I dreaming?" The woman finally spoke again, her voice tinged with disbelief as they inched closer to Ayana.

Ayana nodded slowly, her throat tight with nerves. "Yes, madam, it is me," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Then she held her head high, looking at the woman with unwavering glances. “But I would appreciate it if you dropped the sir name for me—just Ayana Salma, please!”

The man stepped forward, his eyes narrowing with suspicion as he studied Ayana's face. "Forget all that nonsense and explain what on earth you are doing here, Ms. De’Mario?" he demanded, his tone accusatory.

“Miss Ayana Salma!” she corrected the man.

"Will you cut us some crap? We know who you are, and running from your family does not mean their blood stopped running through your veins,” the lady said with malevolence to Ayana.

Before Ayana could respond, Adam intervened, his expression tense with concern. "Mom, Dad, cut Ayana
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