Chapter 2 - The Envelope in the Antique ShopThe rain began at dusk, lashing against the leaded glass windows of Pruitt’s Antiques & Restorations on 4th Street.
Inside, the air smelled of beeswax, dried rose leaves, and old varnish. Kira sat behind the heavy oak counter, wearing an oversized gray wool sweater, carefully polishing a silver Victorian teapot with a soft rag.
Across the room, her brother Ethan was sitting on an overturned wooden crate, eating a sandwich from the deli down the street, his gold medal sitting proudly on the counter beside Kira’s sketchbook.
"You really hugged him, Kira?" Ethan laughed, shaking his head with a wide, disbelieving grin. "Lorenzo Moretti?! Do you have any idea who that man is?"
"It was an accident!" Kira groaned, her cheeks burning crimson as she buried her face in her hands. "He was wearing a dark jacket, he was standing near the auditorium doors, and I was running! I thought it was you!"
"Kira, the Moretti family owns half the commercial docks on the Maumee River," Ethan said, adjusting his glasses. "People clear the sidewalk when his cars drive past. He controls the logistics unions, the shipping terminals... everything."
"Well, he was polite," Kira murmured defensively, reaching into her apron pocket and pulling out the neatly folded white silk handkerchief. She traced the tiny, embroidered crest in the corner with her thumb—an M intertwined with a olive branch. "He gave me his handkerchief. And he didn't let his scary bodyguards jump on me."
Before Ethan could answer, the brass bell above the front door chimed sharply.
RING.
The front door pushed open, letting in a gust of cold, wet wind.
A tall man wearing a dark trench coat and a brimmed hat stepped into the shop, shaking the rain from his umbrella. It was Silvio.
Walter Pruitt—a stooped, sixty-year-old man with thick reading glasses—hurried out from the rear workshop, his hands trembling slightly as he saw the visitor. "Mr... Mr. Silvio. I didn't expect you back until next month."
"Good evening, Walter," Silvio said politely, taking off his hat. His sharp eyes swept the cozy, cluttered shop, landing smoothly on Kira and Ethan standing behind the counter.
Kira straightened up, her pulse taking a sudden, fluttering leap. She recognized the silver-haired gentleman who had been standing behind Lorenzo Moretti at the university.
"Miss Lawson," Silvio greeted with a respectful nod, stepping toward the counter. "And young Mr. Lawson. Congratulations on your medal today."
"Thank you, sir," Ethan said cautiously, stepping slightly in front of Kira.
Silvio reached inside his coat pocket, pulling out a heavy, ivory-colored envelope bound with a dark wax seal bearing the Moretti family crest. He laid it flat on the wooden counter beside the Victorian teapot.
"Don Lorenzo requested that I deliver this personally," Silvio explained cleanly. "The Moretti Memorial Foundation offers an annual postgraduate fellowship for top engineering graduates. It includes a ten-year contract with Moretti Infrastructure & Logistics, a full research stipend, and a corporate penthouse suite in the downtown district."
Ethan’s jaw dropped open in total, speech-bound shock. "A... a ten-year contract...? A research stipend?!"
Kira stared at the wax-sealed envelope, then looked up into Silvio's calm, unreadable eyes.
"Why?" Kira asked softly. "Ethan earned his medal on his own merit. Is this because... because I mistook Mr. Moretti for my brother?"
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Silvio offered a subtle, polite smile.
"Don Lorenzo does not offer multi-million-dollar fellowships out of amusement, Miss Lawson," Silvio replied smoothly. "Your brother's paper on riverfront bridge stabilization was reviewed by our chief engineers three weeks ago. However..." Silvio paused, his eyes flicking toward Walter Pruitt, who had gone pale near the rear workbench. "Don Lorenzo also noted that the Lawson family deserves a far more secure environment than 4th Street."
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