Chapter Twenty-Two: DIANA’S PERSPECTIVES
1187 Words
Diana
The first time I saw Xenia Kingsley, I knew exactly what kind of girl she was.
Or at least I thought I did.
She opened the front door wearing an oversized sweater and ridiculous fuzzy socks.
White hair.
Big eyes.
A nervous smile.
The picture of innocence.
The kind of innocence men always fell for.
The kind that made people lower their guard.
The kind I had learned never to trust.
Especially around Eli.
Especially around Kira.
Especially after Stephanie.
The moment she opened that door, I studied her.
Not because I wanted to.
Because I had to.
For five years I had watched people come and go from Eli’s life.
Some wanted his money.
Some wanted his status.
Some wanted the image of being with a decorated military officer.
Others wanted access to the Winslie family name.
None of them stayed long.
Eli never allowed them to.
The man practically built walls around himself after Stephanie died.
Walls so high nobody could climb them.
Which was exactly why Xenia worried me.
Because somehow she had gotten closer than anyone else.
Not to Eli.
To Kira.
And that was infinitely more dangerous.
As I drove away from the estate, I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.
The image of Xenia standing in that doorway replayed in my mind.
Young.
Too young.
Twenty years old.
Still a college student.
Still struggling with English.
Still figuring out her own life.
And yet somehow she was helping raise my niece.
The situation made absolutely no sense to me.
At a red light, I exhaled sharply.
Maybe I was being unfair.
The thought appeared briefly.
Then disappeared just as quickly.
No.
I wasn’t.
Because I knew what grief did to people.
I knew what loneliness did.
And I knew Eli better than most people realized.
Not because we were close.
We weren’t.
In fact, our relationship had always been complicated.
But I knew him.
Knew the man my sister loved.
Knew the man who sat beside Stephanie’s hospital bed for months.
Knew the man who stopped smiling after her funeral.
Knew the man who never truly recovered.
The world saw a cold military officer.
I saw a widower.
A man carrying a wound that never healed.
And wounded people were vulnerable.
Even when they pretended they weren’t.
Especially when they pretended they weren’t.
My phone buzzed.
A text from my mother.
Did you see Kira?
I immediately called her.
She answered on the second ring.
“How is she?”
The concern in her voice was immediate.
Predictable.
Everyone loved Kira.
“It’s fine.”
“Fine?”
“She’s happy.”
My mother sighed with relief.
“Thank God.”
For a moment neither of us spoke.
Then she asked the question I knew was coming.
“And the nanny?”
I stared out the windshield.
Traffic crawled forward.
Slowly.
Painfully.
“The nanny is still there.”
Silence.
Then:
“Diana.”
A warning.
I recognized it immediately.
I ignored it.
“I don’t trust her.”
My mother’s sigh grew louder.
“Diana.”
“What?”
“Not every young woman is a threat.”
I laughed humorlessly.
“Easy for you to say.”
“No.”
Her voice softened.
“It’s easy for me to say because I knew Stephanie.”
The words hit harder than expected.
I looked away.
My mother’s voice became quieter.
Sadder.
“Stephanie would’ve wanted Kira surrounded by people who love her.”
I closed my eyes briefly.
Stephanie.
Everything always came back to Stephanie.
The brightest person I had ever known.
My older sister.
My best friend.
The person who somehow made every room feel warmer simply by existing.
She had been sunshine.
And then cancer stole her.
Slowly.
Cruelly.
Unfairly.
Five years later and I still couldn’t forgive the universe for that.
“Mom.”
“Diana.”
“What if Xenia is pretending?”
The question escaped before I could stop it.
Silence followed.
Then:
“What if she isn’t?”
I had no answer.
Because that possibility scared me more.
If Xenia was a gold digger, then she was a problem.
Problems could be removed.
Handled.
Solved.
But if she genuinely loved Kira?
If she genuinely cared?
Then things became complicated.
Very complicated.
Because people who genuinely loved Kira tended to become important.
And important people had a habit of staying.
The thought unsettled me.
My mother seemed to sense it.
“You don’t dislike her because of money.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“You dislike her because you’re afraid.”
Immediately I became defensive.
“I’m not afraid.”
“You are.”
“No.”
“Diana.”
My grip tightened on the steering wheel.
“I said no.”
My mother sighed.
The sigh of someone who already knew they were right.
A deeply irritating habit.
“You’re afraid Kira will love someone else.”
The words landed directly on target.
I hated that.
Absolutely hated it.
Because part of me knew she wasn’t entirely wrong.
Stephanie had been Kira’s mother.
The only mother she would ever have.
The only one.
And yet every time I visited the estate, I heard Kira talk about Xenia.
Nanny this.
Nanny that.
Nanny said.
Nanny did.
Nanny helped.
Nanny laughed.
Nanny.
Nanny.
Nanny.
Sometimes it felt like she occupied every corner of Kira’s world.
And I didn’t know how to feel about that.
I truly didn’t.
Because Kira deserved love.
She deserved stability.
She deserved people who stayed.
But another selfish part of me worried.
Worried that one day Stephanie’s memory would become smaller.
Fainter.
Less important.
I hated myself for thinking it.
Yet the thought remained.
My mother spoke again.
Softly.
“Nobody can replace Stephanie.”
The words hurt.
Because I wanted to believe them.
“I know.”
“No.”
Her voice sharpened slightly.
“I mean it.”
A pause.
“Kira loving someone else doesn’t mean she loves Stephanie less.”
Silence.
Traffic moved forward again.
I stared through the windshield.
Unable to answer.
Because emotionally, I wasn’t ready to hear that.
Not yet.
After we ended the call, I drove home alone.
The city blurred past.
Buildings.
Lights.
People.
None of it registered.
Instead, my thoughts returned to Xenia.
To her nervous smile.
Her awkward English.
The way she immediately offered to call Eli for me.
The way she looked genuinely confused whenever I challenged her.
It would’ve been easier if she seemed manipulative.
Easier if she seemed calculating.
Easier if she seemed fake.
But she didn’t.
And somehow that bothered me more.
Because if she was sincere…
Then maybe I had been looking at her the wrong way.
The possibility lingered.
Uncomfortable.
Unwelcome.
Unresolved.
I pushed it aside.
For now.
Because regardless of what anyone said, I still didn’t trust her.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
After all, my sister had once trusted the world completely too.
And look how that ended.
So if protecting Stephanie’s memory made me the villain in someone else’s story…
Then so be it.
I’d survive.
I always had.
- Writer
