Seven Days To Freedom

The Brennan family's grip on New York City depended on one thing: my father's union.

To seal the alliance, I was married off to Cillian Brennan.

It was only after the wedding that I discovered Cillian had a childhood sweetheart.

Later, my father was framed and sent to prison. My family was stripped of its power. And Cillian? He brought his first love—the one he’d been forced to abandon—back to the manor.

Cillian promised her a wedding fit for a Brennan. He sneered, expecting me to cling desperately to my title as the lady of the house.

I didn't cry or make a scene. I just quietly packed my things.

Cillian scoffed, "Spare me the drama. Do you really think you can survive without the Brennan family's protection?"

What he didn't know was that I still had the divorce papers he’d drunkenly signed.

In seven days, my family and I would be gone.

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1

The day they threw my father in prison, Cillian Brennan brought his first love—newly widowed—home to the estate.

He strode into my room, his face a mask of indifference, and announced, "Liliana is moving in next week. I owe her. Don't cause a scene."

My father was framed, locked away. And Cillian? He couldn't wait to drop the charade.

I looked up, meeting his cold, vacant gaze.

Three years of marriage, and I had never once touched his heart.

I looked away, swallowing the sudden tightness in my chest. "Alright."

I was leaving soon anyway. None of this mattered. Who he brought home was his business.

Cillian seemed surprised by my quiet compliance. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but in the end, he simply left without another word.

He’d always been a man of few words with me.

After he left, I opened the safe hidden in my vanity and pulled a yellowed piece of paper from beneath a velvet jewelry box. It was the divorce agreement he had given me three years ago. His signature was already on it.

All I had to do was file it, and our marriage would be legally and irrevocably over.

I first met Cillian at a family dinner. I was immediately drawn to his dangerous, captivating aura. It was love at first sight.

A few days later, word of the marriage alliance between our families reached me. I thought it was a gift from fate. But the truth came crashing down soon after: his first love, Liliana Valenti, had been forced to marry into a rival family.

That night, Cillian got blind drunk. When I went to check on him, he was slumped over his desk. The air reeked of hard liquor, and hostility radiated from him in waves.

His eyes were bloodshot as he mumbled her name, "Liliana..."

My heart seized. I rushed to his side, but he snatched a crystal glass from the desk and hurled it against the wall.

The violent shatter sent me recoiling.

His usual polished elegance was gone. He snarled through clenched teeth, "This is all your fault. If you hadn't set your sights on me, if your father didn't control those damned ports..."

His voice was a raw, resentful rasp. "I wouldn't have been forced into this. I wouldn't have had to watch Liliana marry another man."

The weight of his words crushed the air from my lungs. The tenderness I thought we’d shared was nothing but a carefully constructed lie. Tears blurred my vision, streaming silently down my face.

Cillian staggered to his feet, grabbed a fountain pen, and scrawled his name across a divorce agreement.

He shoved the thin sheet of paper at my face, his voice glacial. "I'm divorcing you. I'm bringing Liliana home."

He was just a drunken wreck, spewing whatever venom he could conjure.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "You're not sober. We can talk about this when you have a clear head."

I took the paper, walked out, and quietly closed the door. The moment I was alone, the dam broke, and the tears I'd held back flowed freely.

The wind was a blade against my skin, but it was nothing compared to the ice in my heart.

The next day, Cillian woke up and slipped back into his cold, self-possessed persona. He never mentioned Liliana or the divorce again.