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te Montana ranch after my ill-advised crypto-s
f a tech mogul, was serving time for
a working phone, and to beg my
hoveling and broken fences, f
g, a sleek black Escalade cr
reflection of me, introducing herse
o vague family stories, had
ocking reunion, one
to her opulent, yet startli
mering dresses and tailored suits,
rd Harrison, and her mean-girl daught
er voice dripping with disdain at
as he demanded, "Get this.
that I was "the one we lost," I was me
et their attitude toward me only hard
posedly searching for me for two decade
or me, the daughter they supposedly yearned
ng celebrated, was now their dirty s
charity case; I was a gen
es, a thought solidified: if they wanted a "farm girl" wh
and I was just
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