Why didn’t they give me a name? Who cares? People… I don’t think so. I’ll tell my life, let’s go: I lived in New York, in a normal house, without an image which indicated something of my relation to the royal family. But everything changed one day: two men sat next to me on a bench. They kept looking at me. They called me a number, they were them! But… how was that possible? I didn’t have an answer. They wanted to talk, privately, but I did not want to. The next day, in the same place, there they were. One day, two days, three, four… one week… in a way that I agreed. They took me in their car.
…to be continued