Diana never truly felt part of her family.
From her earliest childhood, she had been painfully aware that, no matter what she did, her mother, Angela, only had eyes for her brother, Varick.
"Men are the ones who must be cultivated," Angela used to say, her voice laden with a conviction Diana could never understand. "Women only need to worry about being good mothers."
These words had embedded themselves in Diana's heart like thorns, feeding a resentment that grew with each passing year. She tried, time and time again, to earn her mother's approval.
She studied diligently, strived to be the perfect daughter, but nothing seemed to be enough.
She vividly remembered her childhood years, the countless times she had tried to catch her mother's attention. But each achievement was met with an indifference that hurt more than any reprimand.
Diana felt invisible in her own home, a shadow eclipsed by her brother's brilliance.
