Chapter 2 - The Proposal in the Rain
The cold Boston wind whipped through the open hotel doors as Ethan stepped outside onto the stone steps, leaving the warmth of the gala behind. The woman looked up, her face pale, marked by exhaustion and the quiet resilience of someone who had survived too many bitter winters. Up close, her navy scrubs were frayed at the cuffs, and her eyes carried a deep, haunted sorrow that reminded Ethan uncomfortably of the final months his own mother had spent fading away in a sterile private wing. He didn't introduce himself with pleasantries; instead, he crouched down slightly against the chill. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice cutting through the hum of traffic. The woman blinked, clutching her canvas duffel bag tighter. "Sarah," she whispered, her voice rough from the cold. "Sarah Miller." Ethan stood tall, staring down at her with the calculating coldness of a real estate tycoon closing a difficult acquisition. He didn’t offer her charity, because charity required no effort. Instead, he offered her an exit. "Sarah, how would you like to come inside, get warm, and sign a legal marriage contract for ninety days?" She stared at him as if he had lost his mind. "Are you insane?" "Probably," Ethan replied evenly. "I need a wife for three months to win a ridiculous bet with my friend. In exchange, you get a warm home, full financial security, medical care, and fifty thousand dollars when the term is up." Sarah looked at the glowing lights of the hotel lobby, then back down at her mud-soaked boots. She didn't ask for details about his life, his wealth, or his motivations. She simply nodded once with quiet desperation. "Lead the way."
