CHAPTER ONE
Niamh
The lights of New York flickered in the distance, illuminating the sky with a glow that rivaled the stars. I leaned my forehead against the cold glass of the plane window as the pilot announced the imminent landing at JFK airport. I had spent four years breathing in the art and freedom of Paris, and now I was returning to the world I so detested.
New York, the city that never slept, was also the city where everything seemed to revolve around power, connections, and in my case, the name Callahan.
The sound of tires hitting the ground brought me out of my thoughts. I sighed and closed my eyes a moment before the plane reached its destination. There was no turning back. Patrick Callahan, my father, had called me up with a mixture of pride and anticipation, but I knew that all he wanted from me was another pawn on his board. “Study art,” he had told me years ago. “But don’t forget where you came from.” As if I ever could.
I gathered my things leisurely, ignoring the furtive glances of the passengers. I wore a long black coat that complemented my slender figure, and even though I didn’t do it intentionally, it always caught the eye. My blonde hair fell in waves that looked like they had been sculpted by an artist, and my green eyes sparkled with determination.
“Miss Callahan, your ride is waiting at the main exit.” The flight attendant’s voice was polite, almost obsequious. I barely nodded before descending the steps of the plane.
On the concourse, a shiny black sedan waited for me. Next to it, a burly man with one ear glued to a headset nodded at me.
“Miss Callahan, the boss told us to take you directly to the residence.”
The drive to my father’s house felt like an eternity. The streets of New York, with their yellow cabs and cacophony of horns, felt strangely familiar and suffocating at the same time. I thought back to my teenage days, the endless events where my only function was to smile and be the perfect daughter of the powerful Patrick Callahan. I pressed my lips together. That wasn’t going to happen this time.
When the car finally pulled up in front of the majestic Callahan mansion, I couldn’t help but grimace. The house, with its imposing facade and meticulously kept garden, was an exact reflection of my father: all looks, cold and calculating. I adjusted my coat before stepping outside and facing the lion in his den.
Patrick was waiting for me in the foyer, his bearing intimidating and his gaze calculating. Although his gray hair was beginning to dominate his black mane, he still exuded the authority of a man who rarely heard no for an answer.
“Niamh.” His voice boomed like thunder in the wide, silent space. “Welcome home.”
“Father,” I replied with a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “What a lovely welcome.”
He narrowed his eyes, assessing me as he always did, looking for weaknesses. I didn’t bother to hide my disdain.
“I hope this time in Paris has prepared you to take on your responsibilities. Now that you’re here, there’s much to do.”
“Oh, right. Where do we start? Attending fake dinners or decorating another event to clear your reputation?”
Patrick set his jaw, but didn’t respond to the sarcasm.
“Your opinion will be less relevant once you remember what it means to be part of this family.”
I kept my gaze fixed on him, my resolve unwavering. I was back, yes, but that didn’t mean I was going to submit without a fight. If I’d learned anything in Paris, it was that my life could be my own if I was willing to defy the rules.
“Sure, Father. I look forward to being the perfect daughter again.” The venom in my words didn’t go unnoticed, but he simply nodded, knowing that time and pressure would do the rest.
As I climbed the stairs to my old room, I swore to myself that I wouldn’t fall for his games. If my father wanted to play, I knew how to move the pieces too. This time, by my own rules.
