Chapter 6
Chapter Six
CIARA
It’s way too early in the morning to be awake, but then again, I never really went to sleep.
I maybe got an hour or two at most, then the next thing I knew, Mila was up and getting ready for her five a.m. Pilates class, and life was going on as normal.
She offered to let me hang around, but Callum will likely need to talk about what happened last night, so the sooner I get that over with, the sooner I can leave it all behind me.
After borrowing a pair of pink sweats and flip-flops from Mila, I walk the two blocks to where my car is parked, my dress over my shoulder and my heels in hand. I must look a sight, wearing last night's makeup with my hair all knotted, but all things considered, it’s the least of my worries.
By the time I finally pull into the long, sweeping driveway of the McCarthy estate, the sun is almost fully risen, painting the sky in stripes of pale pink and orange. Normally I’d stop to admire such a sight, but not today.
Today, everything feels muted.
Even the house looks tired, which somehow makes my mood even worse.
It once stood as a proud monument of our legacy, with its white marble columns and sculpted hedges, but now it just looks weathered.
The gates creak as they open, and weeds push through the gravel because the gardeners are long gone.
The fountain in the center of the driveway has dried up and is stained with mildew, and ivy covers almost the entire east side of the house.
It’s as if even my house is trying to reject my family. A family that once swam in power and wealth.
Now it’s all I can do just to keep the lights on and the water hot.
My mother would be heartbroken to see our house looking so derelict, and part of me is glad she’s not around to witness our downfall.
And my father? He’d be disappointed that Callum and I aren’t fighting harder to honor the legacy he built. But that’s easier said than done when you have no money and have been shunned from society.
Though not many, we still have a few strategic people on our side, which is how we can maintain this house, but we are light-years away from what we were when my father was alive.
I park beside Callum’s beaten-up black Land Rover and kill the engine. Gathering up my dress and heels, I climb out of the car and head across the stone path toward the front door, which still bears the ornate McCarthy crest in the stained glass.
My father had it made years ago, when our family was considered untouchable.
I took pride in looking at it every day when I came home from school, but as I look at it now, it just feels like it’s trying to mock me.
Inside, the mansion is cold and quiet. A few light bulbs are out, leaving some of the hallway in darkness. The Persian rug covering most of the foyer is dulled and worn down at the edges, and even Mom’s grand piano is sitting in the corner under the stairs, covered in a layer of dust.
I head upstairs, peeling off my earrings as I go and dropping them into my clutch. My room is the only space in this house that still feels untouched by my past, and I want nothing more than to lock myself inside for the rest of the day, or week. Or hell, even the entire damn year.
The door creaks open, and I shut it quickly behind me so I don’t wake Callum.
Something about being in this room is bittersweet. It’s a mixture of a time capsule of who I used to be and who I’m trying to become.
When I turned thirteen, my mother had the entire room redecorated in a more grown-up style, bringing in an antique four-poster bed and dark mauve curtains, as well as a vanity table to match—though the mirror is cracked now, and the jewelry boxes are nearly empty because I sold most of it.
Even my walk-in closet is nothing more than storage for old college papers and textbooks since I had to sell most of my designer stuff to pay for them.
I flop onto the bed and stare at the ceiling, tracing the details of the crown molding with my eyes. My body is exhausted, but my mind is running on pure adrenaline.
Seamus Sullivan was shot.
The thought is surreal. The fact that someone so powerful was taken out in an instant is terrifying in theory, but I can’t seem to feel anything. Not even relief, considering what his family did to mine.
Instead, all I feel is numb, which feels like yet another betrayal of my name.
Seamus orchestrated the fall of my father, and whether or not he pulled the trigger himself, the blood was on his hands.
And now it seems that someone wants to give the Sullivans a taste of their own medicine.
I should be happy. I should want to add whoever did this to my Christmas card list, so why don’t I feel like celebrating?
I roll onto my side and stare at the photo on my nightstand. It’s an old picture of my dad and me standing on the front steps of the house back when the gardens were pristine and the house wasn’t covered in ivy.
I must have been around ten, with a huge toothy grin on my face and my hair pulled back into a tight braid. My father is smiling, his hand on my shoulder and such pride in his eyes that my own sting with tears.
Would he wear that expression now if he was still alive?
A knock on my door interrupts my thoughts, and I sit up.
“Hey, sis,,” Callum’s voice calls from the other side of the door. “Can I come in?”
“Yeah.”
He steps inside, wearing his usual black hoodie and jeans, his shaggy hair unkempt and falling into his eyes. Sometimes, I forget he’s only twenty-six because of how worn down and tired he looks, just like everything else in this house.
I grab a blanket off the end of the bed and drape it over my knees. “Is this about last night?”
He nods before closing the door behind him, crossing to the bed, and perching on the end.
“I wasn’t the one who shot him if that’s what you’re thinking.” I fiddle with the blanket.
“I’m not.”
“And I didn’t see who did it either.”
Callum sighs as he rakes his hand through his messy hair. “Seamus didn’t make it. He died in surgery.”
A heavy sense of dread settles in my stomach as I realize what this confirmation means.
The Sullivans are going to want to retaliate, and I need to make sure my brother and I don’t get caught in the crossfire.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Callum adds, but the words feel automatic rather than sincere.
“I wish I could say I’m not.”
He flinches slightly at my words.
“I never wanted him dead, but he destroyed our father, Callum. He destroyed us. So, forgive me for wanting the Sullivans to feel even a piece of what we felt that day, what I felt when I found our da.”
“I know, and I’m sorry, but you’re really not going to like what I’m about to say.” He sighs and looks somewhere just beyond me.
I narrow my eyes.
“What?”
“The Sullivans reached out. About a deal.”
“A deal?”
“With us, or specifically…you.” He focuses his gaze on me.
“Me?” I sit forward.
He isn’t usually so uncertain about speaking plainly.
The silence continues for a beat before he clears his throat, and his gaze darts away again. “They’ve proposed a marriage between you and Ronan.”
I look at Callum for a moment before I burst out laughing. I laugh so hard that my stomach hurts and tears start to well in my eyes.
I slap him on the knee. “Oh, man, thank you. I needed that laugh.”
“Ciara, I’m serious.”
I chuckle softly. “Cal, you can drop it. The joke worked.”
He springs off the bed. “It’s not a joke!”
I pause as he starts pacing back and forth before me, and when he finally looks at me and I see no hint of amusement in his eyes, it’s clear he really isn’t joking.
A wave of panic washes over me. “What the hell did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. All I said is that I’d discuss their offer with you.”
“Well, you can tell them to shove their offer right up their tailored asses.”
“Ciara—”
“No, don’t Ciara me.” I throw my hands in the air. “Have you lost your fucking mind? Are you actually telling me you’re considering this?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you shouldn’t. You’re not the one being asked to marry the man apparently will now head the family that ruined ours! Do you even hear yourself, Callum?” I jump off the bed and storm to the door.
But Callum steps in my way, blocking my exit.
He holds up a hand. “I need you to listen to me. This isn’t about personal feelings. This is about survival.”
I cross my arms over my chest, my heart pounding as I glare at my brother.
The fact that he didn’t just flat out tell the Sullivans no hurts more than I can bear. Is he really willing to throw me under the bus for the sake of saving our family name?
My vision blurs with tears. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.”
He looks pained as he runs a hand through his hair.
“Ciara, we’re done. We’re bleeding out. The only reason we’ve lasted this long is because we’re no longer seen as a threat. But that won’t last.”
“Says who?”
When he doesn’t answer, a cold laugh escapes me. “So, now you listen to Ronan over me?”
“He has contacts that we could only dream of having.”
“Well, why don’t you marry him then?”
“Marrying Ronan gives us an alliance and by association, power and protection. Even without Seamus, the Sullivans are still strong, so if we don’t take this offer, we might just live long enough to see the McCarthy name erased from history.
” There are dark shadows under his eyes and a lack of color in his cheeks.
It seems he had a sleepless night too, but for very different reasons than mine.
“Don’t try to guilt me into being some sort of sacrificial lamb.”
Callum’s jaw tightens as he looks at me. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like this is about me wanting to hurt you.”
“What else am I supposed to think? Because the way I see it, why would Ronan even want to marry me? Power? We have none. So, forgive me for thinking this entire arrangement is complete bullshit!”
“It doesn’t have to make sense to you. And I’m sorry, but we need this, so it’s happening.”
I take a step back as I look at my brother. “What?”
“You’re marrying Ronan, and it’s not up for debate.” His eyes are cold, and in that moment, he feels like nothing more than a stranger to me.
My stomach twists at the thought of being legally tied to the man who destroyed my family for the rest of my life, however long that happens to be.
Knowing Ronan Sullivan, there will be more to this deal than simply signing on the dotted line, and I’m dreading finding out what it is.
“So, that’s it? I’m just handed over to him without any say? Like some disposable piece of furniture you’re selling out to the best offer?”
“You’re doing this for the family.”
“No. If I do this, it’s because you are forcing me. Because you left me no choice.”
He doesn’t argue. Instead, he turns his back on me and opens the door, but before he leaves, he glances over his shoulder. “I know you hate this, but I hope you can learn to live with it, or maybe even find a way to make peace with it.”
The door closes behind him, and I stand frozen for a few seconds before my knees buckle, and I sink to the floor. A sob lodges itself in my throat, but I won’t give Callum the satisfaction of hearing me cry.
I glance over at the picture of my father on my bedside table, and he stares back at me, strong and untouchable.
Except I know better now.
My father was just another pawn to the Sullivans, and it seems I’m next.
But I’ll be damned if I fold.
Ronan Sullivan may think he can control me and turn me into some pretty little wife who sits quietly in the background. But he’s wrong.
If this marriage is really happening, which it looks like it is, I’m not going to fight it. I’m going to embrace it. Because marrying Ronan puts me exactly where I need to be.
In the heart of the Sullivan empire.
I’ll be close enough to uncover the truth, but more than that, I’ll be close enough to strike.
Ronan Sullivan thinks I’m the weak link, but marrying me will turn out to be the biggest mistake of his life.