Chapter 2 - The Iron Gates of Beacon Hill
Thursday arrived wrapped in a freezing gray fog that hung thick over the Charles River.
I wore my only black dress—a simple wool piece I had bought three years ago for my father’s funeral, now tight around my swollen waist. I clutched my frayed purse against my ribs, feeling the cold weight of the silver coin resting in my coat pocket like a glowing coal.
The address the silver-haired man had given me led to a sprawling Victorian estate perched on the highest crest of Beacon Hill.
High iron gates surrounded the property, forged with intricate black ironwork depicting ravens with outstretched wings. Two men in dark suits stood at the gate, their eyes cold and scanning as I approached through the snow.
I pulled out the silver coin and held it up.
Without a word, the guards opened the heavy gate, stepping aside to let me pass.
I walked up the long stone driveway, my worn boots crunching against the fresh snow. The estate was massive, built of dark red brick and grey granite, with arched stained-glass windows that looked out over the freezing city below.
When I reached the heavy oak front door, it swung open before I could knock.
Standing in the grand foyer was the silver-haired man from the diner.
"Welcome to Kavanaugh House, Miss Lawson," he said, offering a curt, professional nod. "I am Liam, Mr. Kavanaugh’s chief of staff. Follow me."
The inside of the house was a sanctuary of dark mahogany, rich burgundy carpets, and massive stone fireplaces that roared with burning oak logs. Yet despite the warmth, an icy current of tension hung in the air. Household staff moved through the corridors with hushed steps, their faces tense and guarded.
Liam led me down a wide hallway lined with oil paintings of former Irish mob bosses and dock magnates, stopping before a set of carved double doors at the end of the hall.
"Before you enter, Miss Lawson, three rules," Liam said, turning his piercing grey eyes toward me. "First, do not speak unless he addresses you. Second, do not pity him. Third, do not mention the chair."
May you like
"The chair?" I echoed softly.
Liam didn't answer. He simply opened the double doors and motioned for me to step inside.
