Chapter 1

I'm a Genevese by birth, and my family’s a big deal in our republic. For years, my ancestors were counselors and syndics, and my dad held a bunch of public positions with real honor and a good rep. Everyone respected him for his honesty and how hard he worked for the city.

He was always busy with public stuff; a lot happened that kept him from getting married when he was younger. It wasn't until later in life that he finally got married and started a family. The story of how my parents met really shows what my dad was like, so I gotta tell it.

One of his closest friends was a merchant who went from being super successful to totally broke because of a bunch of bad luck. This guy, named Beaufort, was really proud and stubborn and couldn't stand living poor and being forgotten in the same place where he used to be important.

So, he paid off all his debts and moved with his daughter to Lucerne, where he lived a quiet, sad life. My dad really cared about Beaufort and was super bummed when he left like that. He thought it was ridiculous that his friend's pride made him act so much against what their friendship meant.

My dad didn’t waste any time trying to find him, hoping to convince him to start over with his help and credit.

Beaufort had totally hidden out, and it took my dad ten months to even find where he was living. He was so stoked to find him, he rushed right over to the house - it was on a pretty rough street near the Reuss. But when he went inside, all he found was misery and despair.

Beaufort had only managed to save a little bit of money from losing everything, but it was enough to get by for a few months, and he was hoping to find a decent job at a merchant's place. So, he mostly just hung around, and the more he thought about things, the worse he felt.

Eventually, after about three months, he was so sick he couldn't even get out of bed. His daughter took care of him like crazy, but she was freaking out because their money was disappearing fast and they had no way to make more.

But Caroline Beaufort was super smart and her courage kicked in to help her through it. She got some basic sewing jobs, started braiding straw, and did whatever she could to scrape together enough to survive. Months went by like that. Her dad got worse and worse.

She was totally consumed with taking care of him. They had less and less money. And after ten months, her dad died in her arms, leaving her an orphan and broke. That was the final straw. She was kneeling by Beaufort’s coffin, crying her eyes out, when my dad walked in.

He basically showed up like a guardian angel for the poor girl, and she totally trusted him. After Beaufort’s funeral, he took her to Geneva and got her set up with a relative. Two years later, Caroline became his wife.

My parents had a pretty big age gap, but it actually seemed to bring them closer. My dad was a really fair guy, and he believed you had to really appreciate someone you loved.

Maybe he’d been burned in the past by someone who turned out to be a total letdown, so he valued loyalty and trustworthiness a lot. He was super grateful for my mom, almost worshipped her, in a way that wasn't just about being old.

It was because he admired her so much and wanted to make up for all the tough stuff she'd been through. He always put her first, doing whatever she needed.

He treated her like a gardener would a rare, beautiful plant - protecting her from anything harsh and surrounding her with things that would make her happy. She’d been through a lot, and it had really taken a toll on her, both physically and emotionally.

For the two years before they got married, my dad had slowly started stepping away from his job. And right after they tied the knot, they headed to Italy, hoping the change of scenery and all the cool stuff they’d see would help her get better.

They hit Germany and France after Italy. I, the oldest, was born in Naples and tagged along with them on their travels as a baby. For a few years, I was their only kid. Even though they were super into each other, they seemed to have endless love to give me.

My mom's cuddles and my dad's happy smiles are my earliest memories. I was their toy, their idol, and even more - their kid, a totally innocent and helpless being given to them by fate. It was their job to raise me right and shape my future, for better or worse, depending on how well they did.

Knowing how much they owed me, plus their naturally caring hearts, you can imagine I got a lesson in patience, kindness, and being chill every single hour. I was basically led on a smooth ride, so everything felt like one big adventure.

I was their whole world for a long time. My mom really wanted a daughter, but I was their only kid. When I was around five, we took a trip outside of Italy and spent a week by Lake Como. They were always super kind and would pop into the homes of people who didn’t have much.

For my mom, it wasn’t just something she should do - it was a serious thing, like a need, even a passion. She remembered how tough things were for her and how she got help, so she wanted to be a guardian angel to others.

One day, while my dad was off in Milan, my mom and I went for a walk and saw this tiny house tucked away in a valley. It looked so sad, and there were a bunch of half-dressed kids hanging around - a real sign of poverty.

My mom found a peasant and his wife, working their butts off, totally worn down, sharing a small meal with five hungry kids. But one kid totally stood out to my mom. She seemed different. The other four were these dark-eyed, tough little street kids, but this one was thin and really fair.

Her hair was this crazy bright gold, and even with her worn-out clothes, it looked like a crown.

Her forehead was clear and wide, her blue eyes were like the sky, and her lips and face showed so much feeling and sweetness that you couldn’t help but see her as something special - like an angel, with a mark of heaven in her eyes and face.

The peasant woman, seeing my mom totally mesmerized by this gorgeous girl, spilled the story. She wasnn't her kid, but the daughter of a Milanese noble . Her mom was German and died giving birth. The baby was left with these awesome people to be nursed - they were doing alright then.

They hadn't been married long, and their oldest was just a baby. The girl's dad was one of those Italians who remembered Italy’s past glory - one of the schiavi ognor frementi, always fighting for his country’s freedom. He ended up getting hurt because of it.

Nobody knew if he was dead or still stuck in an Austrian prison. They took his stuff, and his kid became an orphan and a beggar. She kept living with her foster parents and grew up beautiful, like a rose blooming amongst thorny bushes.

When my dad got back from Milan, he saw this ridiculously pretty girl playing with me in our villa’s hallway - a total cherub! She seemed to glow and move with the lightness of a mountain goat. Turns out, my mom convinced her foster parents to let her have the girl. They loved the sweet orphan.

Having her around felt like a blessing, but it wouldn’t be fair to keep her poor when things were looking up. They talked it over with their village priest, and Elizabeth Lavenza became part of my family - more than a sister, really - a gorgeous and adored friend who was always up for anything.

Everyone was obsessed with Elizabeth. Seriously, the way people looked at her - it was intense. When I was caught up in it too, it made me feel super proud and happy. The night before she came to live with us, my mom teased, "I’m getting my Victor a little something special - tomorrow he gets it."

And when she introduced Elizabeth to me the next day as her gift for me, I totally took her seriously. I thought Elizabeth was mine - mine to look after, love, and treasure. Any compliments she got, I felt like they were for me, too.

We called each other "cousin," but it didn't even come close to describing how close we were. She was more than a sister - she was mine, and would be until I died.