My marriage to Dante had been arranged by Don Enzo Moretti.
When I was very young, my mother, Anna Clarke, passed away. My father, Dr. Philip Clarke, raised me on his own.
He was a botanist, gentle and quiet. He wasn't good at socializing, but he was deeply devoted to plants. Our small yard at home was filled with potted greenery of every kind.
He always said flowers and plants never lied. People were the ones who were complicated and impossible to read.
When I was young, I was withdrawn and didn't like dealing with people. I spent my days following my father around, tending plants and reading botanical texts.
Whenever I felt wronged or sad, I never cried or made a scene. I hid in the small yard and told my worries to the plants.
Back then, I didn't fully understand any of it. I only
