My foster mother, Janine, wasn’t much fatter. I quickly ingratiated myself to Gianfrancesco, playing on his insecurities, drawing from his need for more and more power. All the king's horses and all the king's men could not undo what was done; nor kill the strange exquisite flower that had grown up in his own lonely heart. "There won't be much left for you," he said. Forgive me, but you have been looking, have you not, for some employment?” “Quite true!” she answered. Too close, he reasoned, for safety.
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