Palermo, Sicily.The Lanza family estate sat by the sea. It had white walls, blue shutters, and a yard filled with lemon trees.Don Lanza came to receive me in person.He was already in his seventies. His hair was completely white, yet his posture was straight and his gaze sharp.The first thing he said when he saw me was, “You look like your mother, but your eyes are stronger than hers.”His wife had passed away years ago, and he had no children.Everyone in the family called him ‘Don’. After I arrived, they began calling me ‘Principessa’.The early days were not easy.I had nightmares almost every night of Carlo’s face, Sophia’s smile, and the harsh white light of the operating room.One night, I woke up screaming.Don Lanza was sitting by my bed and handed me a glass of warm water.He said, “Child, wounds will heal. But first, you have to let them scar over.”He taught me how to handle family affairs, how to read people, and how to protect myself.I learned how to use a
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