Run to Freedom Chapter 1

Lillian Vance, the rising starlet, had been dominating the entertainment headlines for days. Just yesterday, news of her intimate antics with a co-star on set had gone viral. Today, however, a new spectacle unfolded: the city's most coveted advertising space, the colossal screen atop the tallest downtown skyscraper, ceaselessly scrolled a declaration of love for her. A gigantic poster of Lillian graced the left side, while the right blared, "Lillian Vance, I Love You." The priciest ad space, purchased for the simplest, most direct declaration of affection.

That evening, Liam Harrison, a rare presence at home, dropped a bombshell. "Lillian's upset with me, and she's proving particularly difficult to pacify this time," he said, his voice as flat as if he were commenting on the weather. "Clara, what if we just... got a divorce for now?"

I paused, the banquet guest list I'd been drafting slipping from my grasp, and looked up at him, my eyes clouded with confusion.

"Don't worry, it's just a formality," he promised, his tone suddenly earnest. "We'll remarry after things calm down. You'll always be Mrs. Harrison."

I considered his words for a moment. "Alright," I replied.

Neither of us knew then that this 'formality' would be the first step in a diverging path, leading us further and further apart, a path from which we would never return to each other, never to remarry.

My easy agreement to the divorce stemmed from a peculiar trust. I believed Liam wasn't lying about remarrying. He saw our divorce as a mere trinket, a fleeting gift to appease his current mistress. It seemed Lillian Vance truly was different from his usual fleeting interests. Liam was a philanderer, but his infatuations typically flared and died with rapid succession. His companions rarely lasted beyond a month before he moved on to a new face. Yet, this time, the rising starlet, Lillian Vance, had held his attention for three months.

Yesterday, her cozy news with a co-star went viral, and today Liam declared his devotion in such a public, extravagant display. He was actually jealous, a stark sign that his fascination with her hadn't waned at all; if anything, he was behaving like a giddy teenager in the throes of first love.

As for Liam wanting a divorce to placate another woman, my heart remained utterly unruffled. It wasn't that we had never loved each other. But once that love had withered, Liam and I had, like so many high-society couples around us, settled into a façade of harmony. Our marriage had run the gamut: from initial blissful sweetness, through a gradual descent into monotony, followed by the inevitable arguments and histrionics, until finally, it had settled into this current state of profound silence and deathly calm.

Ours wasn't a strategic alliance; it began as a genuine romance. Liam and I met in high school. He was two years my senior, a shining star, a campus idol. I was just one of countless younger students who admired him from afar. I threw myself into my studies, determined to get into the same university he attended. Knowing he was involved in student council and the debate club, I diligently followed in his footsteps. Driven by a singular, audacious determination, I steadily closed the distance between us. And then, finally, he noticed me.

During the annual student council showcase, my traditional dance performance captivated the entire audience, earning a thunderous ovation. As I took my bow, I distinctly saw him in the front row, his gaze alight with admiration, and indeed, a flicker of genuine interest.

After the showcase, Liam began to pursue me. I feigned a touch of coy reluctance for a short while, but soon, we were officially an item. As a boyfriend, he was exceptional. He possessed vast knowledge and a broad intellect, yet he was never arrogant about it. Conversations with him were a delight. Back then, we had an endless stream of topics, chatting late into the night until the dorm lights flickered off, hanging up the phone with reluctant sighs.

Despite being born into immense wealth – a true silver-spoon heir – he was surprisingly considerate. Though he'd never cooked a meal in his life, he would personally prepare a special birthday dish for me on my birthday.

I considered my own family quite well-off, but compared to his, we were mere new money, practically parvenus.