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Chapter 128: USA First Son? I AM RICHER!
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... ing it to pull out a fat bundle of hundreds, the paper snapping together with that delicious crisp sound as he stepped out.
Yeah, let ’em look. The automatic doors slid open with a ding, and the smell hit him—grease, salt, chicken. Heavenly. The place was decently packed. College kids. Some families. A few cashiers working the rush. And then his eyes landed on the cashier at the front.
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She looked about his age, maybe a year older ...
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