memoriediunalettricedisperata francesca

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I turned to Greta and quickly lifted her as well then straightened to keep an eye on Savio. He held Nevio against his chest, and my son seemed content to be held by the unknown man. Savio’s eyes were curious and fascinated as he looked down at my boy. No resentment, no associated shame.
Twisted Pride (The Camorra Chronicles, #3)
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