Chapter 3 - The Beacon Hill Townhouse
The transition from the freezing pavement of Commonwealth Avenue to the towering limestone halls of Ethan’s Beacon Hill townhouse felt like crossing the threshold into another dimension. The estate was a masterclass in modern luxury mixed with historic Boston architecture—polished hardwood floors, towering floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Charles River, and an eerie, immaculate silence that echoed with every footstep. Sarah stood awkwardly in the grand foyer, clutching her battered canvas duffel bag as if it were a shield protecting her from the opulence around her. Ethan watched her, expecting her to look around with wide-eyed greed or ask about jewelry and credit cards. Instead, her eyes scanned the exits, the security panels, and the heavy oak doors with the practiced vigilance of someone accustomed to constantly watching her back. "You can take the master suite upstairs," Ethan instructed, gesturing toward the sweeping staircase. Sarah shook her head instantly, stepping back. "No. The guest room on the third floor. That’s where I stay." Ethan frowned, surprised by her immediate boundary. "Sarah, you're my legal wife as of two hours ago, at least on paper. Sleeping in a guest room defeats the purpose of the arrangement." "If you want to maintain appearances for your friends, I will play whatever part you require during the day," Sarah said quietly, her voice carrying an unyielding steel that caught him off guard. "At night, I stay in the third-floor guest room. Those are my terms." Without waiting for his permission, she turned and walked up the stairs, disappearing into the shadows of the expansive townhouse, leaving Ethan standing alone in the silent foyer with a strange, gnawing curiosity settling in his chest.
