At seventeen she married the heir to Monaco. Her inheritance made her a prize. Years later, she and her younger son were prisoners in Paris. It was a doctor, not a prince, who got them out.
He was the most powerful king in Europe. He wept at the carriage door while she climbed in. You are the king, she said, and you weep. He dried his eyes and married someone else. She spent the next fifty years making sure the record was accurate.