Novel Drama Chapter 17
Chapter 17
Chapter 17 Dear Diary Yes, everything is surprising, a mess and I don’t like it. I miss the children, I
miss Kenya. My life is changing again and I don’t need it. I take a deep breath in and exhale, nice and
slow. This reality is going to take a hell of a lot to get used to. Not only am I no longer in Kenya, but my
step-sister lives in a mansion with a billionaire? With Sebastian? A friend of Dave? This is not
happening. Fuck it! But can I do something about
I’m not sure how quickly Christie expects me to adjust to having servants who will make me
sandwiches in the middle of the night. Not that I’m not accustomed to wealth, but I’m a self sufficient
woman. I don’t need a servant to do anything for me.
Surely she recognizes that this drastic adjustment will take some time to sink in? This 180-degree turn novelbin
in my lifestyle is nearly too much to bear: the change in climate; the contrasting culture; the transition
from third to first world; Sebastian’s home; the engagement; the luxury automobile; and the servants…
It is all enough to give anyone whiplash. Did my sister not realize I am fresh from a one-year volunteer
program? To forget something? To forget my life? My past and my heart ache? A program that exposed
me to people experiencing destitution, hopelessness, and devastation. How did she think I would react
to such opulence back home?
When we step into the mansion’s foyer, the first thing I notice is the polished ceramic tiled floor and the
huge, crystal chandelier hanging above our heads.
Then there are the two flights of beautiful white spiral staircases, one for each wing of the mansion, and
the three white pillars that meet the high arched ceiling laced with gold. A luxurious infinity pool
adorned with a flowing waterfall leads to a well maintained gorgeous garden fit for royalty through
transparent glass doors between the two staircases. “Isn’t it marvelous!” Christie exclaims, doing a kind
of twirl on her feet. Her movement surprised me. She is like a whole different person. I never thought
she would be enamored by wealth, but evidently, I was wrong. Entering the mansion has transported
me into a different realm. A realm that could not be more dissimilar to my tiny bedroom at the
orphanage. With such thoughts still racing through my head, my sister proceeds to give me a tour of
the place. “And here is the kitchen… Sebastian only has the highest appliances. But you don’t have to
worry about using any of them. The servants take care of all our meals,” she states, a posh tone
creeping into her voice.
I am speechless. I never have to make my own meals again? Seriously? Christie moves us on,
directing me back to the foyer and up the spiral staircase on the left. After we head down a long
corridor into the west wing, she stops by one of the many doors lining the passageway.
“And now for your bedroom. We decorated it just for you. I know you like black and white photos, so I
asked the interior designer to pick out a few prints for the walls,” she says as she twists the brass,
antique-styled handle. And a new wardrobe. We enter, and she points out the opulent California king
bed, antique dresser, walk-in closet, en-suite, and sliding glass doors leading to a private balcony. This
is utterly absurd. Is this a huge mess? I take a deadpan look around the room. “Isn’t it lovely, Lil? You
are welcome to come out here and read. Or even have your breakfast brought,” sister continues,
opening the balcony doors and walking us out to a breathtaking view of the gardens. Or should I come
out here and flaunt my rank as princess of the palace? I tell myself.
This display of grandeur does not impress me. Not when I’ve just returned from Kenya.
The doors were purchased from France, while the linen on the bed was brought from India, according
to my sister. But I’ve had enough. My mind is racing from the events of the day, and I need to unwind.
I’m so tired of everything. Damn it! “Christie, I’m tired. I suppose I need to lie down,” I remark, a feeble
smile on my face. She gives me a surprised expression as she realizes I no longer want to hear about
the paint that came from a particular manufacturer in Germany.
“All right, honey. We can discuss the furniture afterwards. When Sebastian gets home, I’ll come wake
you up. Peter also has karate courses to attend. Tonight’s dinner will be served in the ballroom.
Sebastian’s friend will also be present. I can’t wait to introduce you to him!” She exclaims joyfully. “Oh, I
can’t wait either,” I say, faking a smile. I sigh and slump onto the enormous bed covered in various
shaped fluffy pillows once she goes. I look up at the ceiling as the events of the day flash before my
eyes like I’ve hit fast forward on a movie. I consider my Kenyan students and how much they would
prefer clean drinking water than live in a luxury mansion. I don’t fight the tears that fall down my
cheeks. My sister has not inquired about my trip in the least. Or my thoughts on her selling the
apartment. She has been so swept up in this new life of hers and has such a strong trophy wife
persona that it is hard to recognize her.
Is it true that money has changed her personality? The thoughts racing through my mind make me
resentful of her and her fiancée. I’ll be meeting Sebastian again, the “owner, Dave’s friend” in a few
minutes, and I’m not looking forward to it. What the hell happened to him anyway? Who is the man who
has turned my sister into a snob?
Christie knocks on my door as I wake up from my sleep. “Chelsea. Sebastian is waiting for you below.”
I mutter sharply, “Be right down,” and reluctantly get out of bed.
I inspect myself in the dresser mirror before proceeding down the majestic staircase and through the
west wing corridor.
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