In the realms of royalty and celebrity, few figures have captivated the public imagination as deeply as Princess Diana and Meghan Markle. Now, a royal expert has weighed in on Markle’s mindset.
Since the beginning of her relationship with Prince Harry, Meghan Markle has been heavily scrutinized by the public. Some have compared her to Princess Diana and others have said she could never measure up to her late-mother-in-law.
Princess Diana, a beacon of compassion and a disruptor of the traditional royal protocol, left a legacy of humanitarian work and personal vulnerability that reshaped the British monarchy.
Markle, an American actress turned Duchess of Sussex, has carved her own path, challenging norms and facing intense scrutiny while navigating her role within the same institution.
Recently, Markle, at the age of 42, embarked on a new venture, launching her lifestyle brand, American Riviera Orchard. This move, rich in ambition and personal expression, has reignited conversations about her connection to Diana’s legacy, stirring insights from royal experts and evoking varied reactions from the public.
American Riviera Orchard represents Markle’s latest step in crafting a life that merges public influence with private entrepreneurial ambition.
The brand, which will offer an array of homewares products, signifies her commitment to creating a legacy that transcends her royal title.
Notably, the brand’s launch coincided with The Diana Award ceremony, a decision that royal expert Tom Quinn suggests is no mere coincidence.
According to Quinn, Markle sees herself as “Diana’s heir,” a woman who, like her late mother-in-law, faces the media’s glare but strives to leverage her platform for personal and broader societal gain.
However, this alignment with Diana’s legacy has sparked debate, with some viewing it as a respectful nod to the past, while others criticize it as capitalizing on royal connections.
The parallels drawn between Markle and Princess Diana are not new. Prince Harry himself has often highlighted the similarities between the two most influential women in his life.
In their Netflix documentary series, “Harry & Meghan,” Harry emphasized Markle’s compassion, empathy, and warmth, traits he deeply associates with his mother.
This comparison extends beyond personality traits, touching on their shared experiences with media scrutiny and their desire to use their public platforms for advocacy and change.
In an excerpt from the documentary, Prince Harry recalled a night when he and Meghan were staying in a room at Buckingham Palace following a royal engagement.
Although most royal family members were there, including his grandmother, Queen Elizabeth II, the person the media chose to portray on the front page was Markle.
Many royal fans accused Markle of trying to steal the spotlight from other royals, but Prince Harry clarified that the media chose who they put on the front page, not the royals.
Yet, this connection to Diana’s legacy is a double-edged sword, offering both a source of inspiration and a potential point of contention within and outside the royal family.
Critics argue that Markle’s business endeavors, particularly the timing of her brand’s launch, reflect a calculated move to align her image with Diana’s enduring influence.
This perspective suggests a complex navigation of personal ambition and public perception, where every decision is scrutinized for its authenticity and respect for royal traditions.
Yet, supporters see Markle’s actions as a continuation of Diana’s legacy, a way of honoring her memory by embodying the same spirit of independence and social consciousness.
The launch of American Riviera Orchard, therefore, is more than just the introduction of a new brand. It’s a statement of identity and purpose from Markle, a declaration of how she wishes to be seen and remembered.
By aligning her entrepreneurial ventures with Diana’s legacy, Markle is carving a space where her work can be both personally fulfilling and beneficial to others.
However, the path she navigates is fraught with comparisons and expectations, where her every move is seen through the lens of her late mother-in-law’s shadow.
As Markle continues to build her brand and define her public persona, the conversation around her connection to Princess Diana’s legacy is unlikely to wane.
The move to start a business comes at the same time as Markle carving out her identity on hers and her husband’s new website. We previously reported that the pair launched a new website in which Markle altered her publicly-used name.
As Prince Harry and Markle launched the new website, they transitioned from the Sussex Royal URL handle to simply Sussex. Despite stepping back from official royal duties, they continue to use their titles. The website includes a section designed to offer the public more insight into their lives and work.
Notably, Meghan’s page introduces her using only her first name, omitting her family name. This decision reflects a common practice among British Royals, who are frequently referred to by their first names and titles.
Meghan’s narrative on the site includes her upbringing, painting a picture of her journey from a young South California girl to the influential figure she is today. The page also featured her advocacies for women, mental health, gender equality, and family care.
Meghan’s impact and recognition are also highlighted through her inclusion in various world rankings, marking her as a notable figure on the global stage.
Now residing in California as a mother of two, Meghan and Harry have embarked on a new chapter away from their roles as senior members of the British Royal Family.
Their children, Prince Archie and Princess Lilibet, whose names are emblematic of their continued connection to Harry’s heritage, are a significant part of their lives in America.
Following their move, the couple launched the Archewell Foundation and introduced the podcast “Archetypes,” initiatives that underline their ongoing commitment to public service and discourse.
Meghan’s details are available on the Royal Family’s official website, though it offers limited information about her advocacies and activities.
It mentions that she and her husband have stepped back as senior members, stating, “The Duchess will continue to support various charitable causes and organizations that align with her longstanding interests, including the arts, education access, women’s support, and animal welfare.”
Recently, in light of King Charles’ recent cancer diagnosis, Prince Harry returned to London to be by his father’s side. However, Meghan Markle decided to stay in America during this period.
The reasons behind Meghan’s choice to remain in America, while not confirmed were revealed by the King’s former butler, Grant Harrold.
“Meghan made the decision that it was best to stay home with the children, and maybe she feels that this is something Harry has got to do alone,” he said. “It’s his father. She’s aware of the close relationship and probably encouraged him to come over.
Little Girl is Caught Stealing, but When the Cashier Learns Why, She Makes an Unthinkable Decision — Story of the Day
Claire never expected a simple theft to shake her to the core—until she caught a child sneaking out with a sandwich. But when she saw the tiny candle flicker on top, heard the whispered birthday song, her heart ached. This wasn’t just shoplifting. It was survival. And Claire had a choice to make.
I stood behind the counter at Willow’s Market, the small corner store where I had worked for the past four years.
The scent of fresh bread lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of cinnamon from the bakery section.
It was a comforting smell, the kind that wrapped around you like a warm blanket on a cold morning. The store had that effect—cozy, familiar, a little worn around the edges but full of heart.
I ran my fingers along the edge of a shelf, straightening the jars of homemade jam. Every item had its place, and I made sure of it.
Keeping the store neat wasn’t just part of the job; it was my way of showing I cared.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Beside the register, I had placed a small box filled with handwritten notes—each one carrying a simple kind wish for the customers.
Little things like, “Hope today brings you something good” or “You’re stronger than you think.”
Some people ignored them, some smiled politely, and a few—especially the older customers—tucked them into their pockets like tiny treasures.
It was something small, but it made people smile. And that mattered to me.
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Just as I finished organizing the checkout area, the front door swung open sharply, making the hanging bells jingle too hard.
The sudden noise sent a jolt through me.
Logan.
I sighed internally.
Logan was the son of the store’s owner, Richard, and he had zero interest in keeping the store alive.
He wanted something more profitable—a liquor store, maybe, or a vape shop.
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Something that would bring in fast cash, not the slow, steady kind of business his father had built over the years.
But Richard had refused, saying the community needed a place like Willow’s Market. And Logan? Well, he didn’t take no very well.
Logan sneered as he scanned the store, hands tucked into the pockets of his expensive coat.
It was too nice for a place like this—black wool, probably designer, the kind of thing that didn’t belong near dusty shelves and wooden counters.
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“How’s it going, Claire?” His voice was casual, but there was something sharp beneath it, like a blade hidden under silk.
I straightened, forcing a polite tone. “We’re doing well. I opened early today to get everything ready.”
His sharp blue eyes flicked toward the counter. Right at my box of notes.
He reached for one, lifting it with two fingers as if it were something dirty.
“What the hell is this?” he scoffed, reading aloud. “Enjoy the little things? What kind of sentimental garbage is this?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Before I could respond, he tossed the note onto the floor and, with one careless sweep of his arm, knocked over the entire box.
The papers fluttered like wounded birds, scattering across the wooden floor.
My stomach tightened.
I knelt quickly, gathering them up with careful hands. “It’s just something nice for customers,” I said, trying to keep my voice even.
“This is a business,” Logan snapped.
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“Not a therapy session. If you wanna play philosopher, do it somewhere else. This store already isn’t making much money.”
His words hit like a slap, but I refused to react.
“It’s your father’s store,” I reminded him, standing up, my fingers curling around the handful of notes I had managed to pick up.
His jaw ticked. “For now,” he muttered, voice lower this time. Then he leaned in, just enough for me to catch the faint scent of expensive cologne.
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“And you work here for now,” he added, his voice dripping with warning. “One more mistake, Claire, and you’ll be looking for a new job.”
His words sat heavy in the air between us, thick with meaning. He wasn’t just talking about my notes.
Then, just like that, he turned and left. The bell above the door clanged behind him, the sound sharp and jarring.
I stood there, my heart pounding, watching the scattered notes on the floor.
I had spent time writing each one, hoping they might bring someone a moment of comfort. But in the end, they were just paper to him.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I took a deep breath, willing my hands to stop shaking.
Then, slowly, I knelt back down and started picking them up again.
Later that afternoon, I stood behind the register, absently smoothing my apron as I watched Mrs.
Thompson count out coins with careful fingers. She was one of our regulars, always buying the same things—fresh bread and a small packet of tea.
The store was quiet, the golden afternoon light slanting through the front windows. Outside, cars rolled by lazily, and a few people walked past, chatting about their day.
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Mrs. Thompson finally gathered the right amount and placed the small stack of coins on the counter with a satisfied nod.
“You know, dear,” she said, looking up at me with her warm, wrinkled smile, “this store is the best thing in the neighborhood. I don’t know what I’d do without it.”
Her words eased something tight in my chest. I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been since Logan’s visit. His voice still echoed in my head, sharp and full of warning.
“One more mistake, Claire, and you’ll be looking for a new job.”
I forced a smile. “That means a lot, Mrs. Thompson. Really.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She patted my hand with the softness only age could bring. “Don’t let that boy get to you,” she said knowingly.
Before I could respond, movement near the sandwich shelf caught my eye. A small figure in an oversized hoodie hovered there, their head ducked low, fingers twitching at their sides.
Something about the way they moved—too hesitant, too jumpy—made my stomach tighten.
I glanced back at Mrs. Thompson. She was tucking her tea into her purse, humming to herself.
I turned back to the hooded figure.
“Excuse me!” I called, stepping out from behind the register. “Can I help you find something?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
The kid’s head snapped up, and for a split second, wide brown eyes locked onto mine. Then—
They bolted.
In one swift movement, they spun toward the door, their sneakers skidding slightly on the worn floorboards.
A small shape vanished into their pocket as they pushed past the door, setting the hanging bells into a frantic jingle.
My stomach dropped.
I glanced at Mrs. Thompson. “Watch the register for a second?”
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She barely hesitated before waving me off. “Go, dear!” She clutched her purse like she was preparing to defend the store herself.
I ran outside, my heart hammering as I scanned the busy sidewalk. The kid was fast—too fast.
Weaving through the crowd, dodging between people, slipping around corners like they’d done this before.
I almost lost them. Almost.
Then, a voice called out.
“Ran that way, five minutes ago.”
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I turned. A homeless man sat on a newspaper, pointing lazily down a side street.
I nodded in thanks and hurried forward, following his direction.
And then—I saw her.
The kid had stopped behind an abandoned alley, far from the main street. The oversized hoodie swallowed her small frame, making her look even younger.
I slowed my steps, pressing myself against the brick wall at the alley’s entrance, watching.
She pulled something from her pocket.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
A wrapped sandwich.
From the other pocket, she retrieved a tiny candle and a lighter.
My breath caught.
She unwrapped the sandwich with careful hands, smoothing the paper flat like it was something precious. Then, she stuck the small candle into the soft bread and flicked the lighter on.
A tiny flame flickered to life.
And then, she sang.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Happy birthday to me… Happy birthday to me…”
Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through me like a knife.
She smiled—just a little—then took a deep breath and blew out the candle.
I stepped forward before I could think twice.
The girl froze.
Her big brown eyes filled with fear as she took a quick step back, her hands clenching at her sides.
“I—I’m sorry,” she stammered, already inching away like a cornered animal.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I knelt down, making sure my voice was gentle. “You don’t have to run.”
Her lips trembled.
“You’re not mad?” she whispered.
I shook my head. “I just wish you didn’t have to steal a sandwich for your own birthday.”
For the first time, something in her cracked. The tough shell, the instinct to fight or flee—it slipped, just for a second.
I held out my hand. “Come on. Let’s go back to the store. We’ll get you something to eat. No stealing required.”
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She hesitated.
Then, to my surprise, she reached out and took my hand.
Back at the store, Logan was waiting for me.
The moment I stepped through the door, his voice hit me like a whip.
“Where the hell were you?” he barked. His arms were crossed, his jaw tight, impatience rolling off him in waves.
I tightened my grip on Katie’s small, trembling hand. She shrank slightly behind me, her fingers curling around mine like a lifeline.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“A child took something,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “I went after her.”
Logan’s expression darkened, his nostrils flaring like a bull ready to charge.
“So let me get this straight,” he said slowly, stepping forward, his boots clicking against the wooden floor.
“You left the register. Chased down a thief. And instead of calling the police, you brought her back here?”
“She’s not a thief,” I shot back. “She’s a hungry kid.”
He snorted, shaking his head. “I don’t care if she’s a saint. She stole from the store.”
I saw it then—the way his hand hovered near his pocket, his fingers twitching. He was reaching for his phone.
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My stomach clenched.
“I’m calling the cops,” he said, his voice dripping with finality. “They’ll take her to an orphanage. That’s where kids like this end up.”
Beside me, Katie flinched. I felt her grip tighten like she was bracing for something awful.
I stepped forward without thinking. “Logan, don’t. Please.”
He smirked, tilting his head. “Why not? You care about your job, don’t you?”
His words hung heavy in the air, daring me to argue.
I swallowed hard. My pulse pounded in my ears.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I’ll quit if you don’t call the police,” I said.
For the first time, Logan hesitated.
He blinked. “What?”
“You want me gone, right?” My voice was even, but inside, my heart was racing. “If I walk away now, you get what you want. Just don’t call.”
Logan’s eyes flickered with something unreadable—maybe shock, maybe amusement. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a smug grin.
“Fine,” he said, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “Pack your things.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I exhaled, glancing down at Katie. Her wide brown eyes looked up at me, searching for reassurance.
I squeezed her hand.
“Let’s go,” I said.
The next morning, I walked into Richard’s office with a heavy heart. Richard was always kind to me, an owner of the store I looked up to. The folded resignation letter in my hand felt like a brick. I had spent four years at Willow’s Market, and now, it was over.
Richard sat at his desk, the morning light casting long shadows across the wooden surface. He was reading over some invoices, his glasses perched low on his nose.
I cleared my throat and placed the envelope in front of him. “Richard, I—”
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But before I could explain, he lifted a hand to stop me.
“Mrs. Thompson told me everything,” he said.
I froze.
My pulse quickened as I searched his face, expecting disappointment, maybe even anger. But instead, there was something softer—understanding.
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Logan was supposed to take over this place one day… but after what he did?” He shook his head. “I don’t want someone like him running this store.”
I stared at him, my breath catching. “Then… who will?”
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Richard smiled.
“You.”
I almost dropped my coffee.
“Me?” My voice came out in a whisper.
“You’re not just a cashier, Claire,” he said gently. “You’re the heart of this store.”
Tears burned my eyes.
I had lost a job.
But somehow, I had gained a future.
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