Page 50

"You made me a monster," I repeat, voice stronger. "She's teaching me I can be someone else."

My father shifts in his chair—surprise, perhaps, or disappointment. "Melodrama doesn't suit you, Cormac."

"Neither does being your puppet." Decision crystallizes, sudden yet inevitable. "I'm done."

"Done?" His laugh holds no humor. "One doesn't simply walk away from family responsibilities."

"Watch me." I turn to leave, Aoife's hand still in mine.

"If you walk out that door," my father calls, "you forfeit everything. The business. The territory. Your birthright."

I pause at the threshold, turning back one final time. "Keep it. I've paid enough for the Donovan name."

"You'll have nothing," he warns. "No protection. No resources. Every enemy you've made will come hunting."

"I'll have what matters." I glance at Aoife, finding strength in her unwavering support. "The rest is just decorations."

Outside, night has fallen dark. Seamus stands near my car.

"Your father?—"

"Is no longer my concern," I cut him off. "Congratulations, Uncle. The Donovan empire is yours, as you've always wanted."

Confusion flickers in his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm out." The words taste like freedom. "The title, the business, the blood feud—all yours. May it bring you joy. Or death, I truly don’t give a fuck."

Understanding dawns. "You can't just walk away."

"Already have." I open Aoife's door, then circle to the driver's side. "Consider this my formal abdication."

"The associates won't accept this," Seamus protests. "The territory arrangements, the alliances?—"

"Your problem now." I start the engine. "One piece of advice, don't underestimate Patrick Gallagher. Or his daughter."

As we pull away, Aoife's hand finds my thigh. "You just gave up your entire inheritance. Your family legacy."

"Legacy." The word tastes bitter. "What legacy? Blood and betrayal? Children sacrificed for power? Some inheritances are not worth the sacrifice."

The estate shrinks in my rearview mirror—thirty years of memories, duty, and obligation fading with each mile. Strange hollowness fills my chest, not quite grief, not quite relief.

"What now?" Aoife asks as Dublin's lights appear on the horizon.

"Now we prepare for tomorrow's meeting with your father." I navigate toward the lake house. "And hope like fuck he likes me."

My phone vibrates—unknown number flashing on the screen. I answer on speaker.

"Where are you?" a voice asks without preamble. "Seamus is calling everyone, saying you've lost your mind. That you've renounced your position." My brothers never call me—not the ones that are hiding from dear old dad.

"It's true," I confirm. "I'm out. The Donovan empire belongs to Seamus now. He called you, so you are on his good side."

Silence stretches between us. "Because of the Gallagher girl?"

"Because I'm tired of becoming my father to please my father." The admission comes easier than expected. "What's your status?"

"Complicated. Seamus wants everyone to report to the estate immediately. Loyalty test, I'm guessing."

"Then go," I tell him. "Your position doesn't need to change."