Chapter 3

Elias POV

Morning had always been my favorite time of day. The city hadn't fully woken up yet, and for a little while, it felt like the world forgot who I was.

I opened the window above the sink and let the cool breeze drift into my tiny apartment. The first thing I did every morning was water the potted jasmine sitting on the windowsill.

It had belonged to my mother. I wasn't particularly good with plants, but this one had somehow survived years of my inconsistent care.

"You're tougher than you look," I murmured, pouring the last of the water into the pot. I made myself two slices of toast, fried an egg, and ate while reading the day's schedule on my phone.

Nothing unusual. A restoration project in the morning and an authentication appointment after lunch.

I washed my plate, grabbed my satchel, and locked the apartment behind me. The familiar orange stray cat was already waiting beside the front steps.

"You're early."

It meowed once. I smiled and crouched to place a small packet of cat food on the ground.

"You only like me because I feed you."

The cat rubbed against my leg anyway. "Yeah, yeah."

I scratched behind its ears before heading toward work.

---

Whiteboard Auction House had been standing for over a century. The building itself looked like a piece of history.

Tall wooden shelves stretched toward the ceiling. Crystal chandeliers reflected warm light onto tiled floors, while paintings older than entire countries watched silently from the walls.

Some people saw old furniture. Some old books while some even saw old clocks. But I saw stories.

Every scratch meant someone had once held that object and every stain had survived decades to reach my hands.

That was the part I loved most.

"Morning, Elias."

I looked up from my workbench. Mrs. Holloway smiled at me from the next table, balancing two cups of coffee.

One eventually found its way into my hand. "Thank you."

"You remembered breakfast today?"

I smiled. "I did."

She laughed. "Good. I was running out of reasons to lecture you."

I tilted my head a little. "I'll try harder."

She rolled her eyes affectionately before returning to her station. Not everyone were the same. While most pople chose to be hostile towards me, the rarest some were still kind to me and I was grateful for it.

I smiled to myself and lowered my magnifying lens. An eighteenth-century land deed rested beneath my hands.

The ink had faded with age, and one corner had suffered water damage decades ago. Slowly and carefully, I continued restoring it.

Time disappeared whenever I worked. Until whispers spread across the room.

I frowned.

The conversations around me grew quieter and people straightened almost instinctively. Someone important had arrived.

I lifted my head.

A man in a perfectly tailored black suit walked through the entrance. He was tall and had broad shoulders with a calm but unreadable expression. I barely registered his face well, then. Employees greeted him politely as he passed, but no one attempted to start a conversation.

It wasn't respect. It felt more like caution.

Mrs. Holloway leaned toward me. "I heard he's from the Moretti family."

I glanced her way. "The Morettis?"

She nodded. "They've brought in an antique for authentication."

Before I could ask another question, my manager appeared beside my workstation. "Elias."

I straightened immediately. "Yes?"

"Our guest specifically requested one of our senior conservators."

I looked around. "I'm hardly senior."

He nodded. "Yes but...he requested you."

My eyebrows lifted. "Me?"

My manager seemed just as confused. "I know."

A few minutes later, I entered one of the private consultation rooms carrying a notebook. The man was already there.

He stood beside the window with an antique wooden case resting on the table. When he turned around, recognition struck instantly and my eyes widened slightly.

He was the stranger in the black SUV outside the prison. So it hadn't been my imagination.

I caught myself, cleared my throat and  offered the same polite smile I gave every client.

"Good afternoon, sir."

I set my notebook down. "I'm Elias Vance."

His eyes stayed on me, steady and unblinking. He looked neither hostile or friendly too. Just simply watching.

"How can I help you today?"

He didn't answer back. Only kept looking at me long enough to become uncomfortable. Finally, he spoke.

"I'd like this authenticated." His voice was low and controlled.

I nodded. "Of course."

I gestured toward the chairs. "Would you like some tea while I examine it?"

A tiny bit of emotion flashed across his face but it was gone almost immediately. "No."

I smiled again. "All right."

I carefully opened the wooden case. Inside lay an antique silver compass. It was a beautiful craftsmanship.

Judging by the engraving, it had probably belonged to a noble family decades before it found its way into the Moretti collection.

I slipped on my gloves and began examining it. The room fell completely silent.

I could feel his eyes following every movement. Most clients eventually looked away but this one never did.

Several minutes passed. I closed the compass gently. "The condition is excellent."

I made a few notes. "There are some signs of age, but nothing unexpected. The internal mechanism is still functioning, and I don't believe..."

"Did you miss that crack?"

His voice cut cleanly through my sentence.

I blinked. "The crack?"

He pointed toward the lower edge of the casing. I leaned closer and there it was. It had a hairline fracture no wider than a strand of thread hidden beneath one of the decorative engravings.

My stomach tightened.

How had I overlooked it? I picked up the magnifying lens again. It wasn't recent. The damage had existed for years.

I had missed it even though it was actually small enough to escape notice. Behind us, someone shifted awkwardly.

Another conservator had paused outside the open doorway.

Then another. I could practically feel the room listening.

"I apologize," I said quietly. "I should have examined it more carefully."

The silence stretched. I inspected the crack one final time before setting the compass down.

"It doesn't affect the authenticity or structural stability of the piece."

I looked back at him. "But I overlooked it."

He said nothing. "If you're still uncomfortable with my assessment..."

I folded my gloves neatly. "I'll ask another conservator to assist you." It was not because I doubted my ability but because the mistake was mine.

The room remained silent. The man studied me for several long seconds, almost as though my answer had disappointed him.

Finally, he picked up the compass. "That won't be necessary."

Without another word, he closed the wooden case. Our eyes met again briefly and his expression seemed to soften. I wasn't certain.

He turned to leave, just like that.  The stranger's footsteps only slowed for a moment  like he was considered whether to go or stay. Eventually he walked away and never looked back.

I stood there long after the consultation room emptied. Mrs. Holloway poked her head inside.

"You all right?" Concern showed in her voice.

"I think so." I answered softly, eyes still lingering at where the stranger had left.

"That looked tense."

I managed a small smile. "It was nothing , really."

Was it not? I wasn't sure anymore.

I watched through the window as the black SUV disappeared beyond the gates. I'd never met that man before today.

So why did it feel like he'd already decided to hate me?

"Elias?"

I turned. My manager stood in the doorway and he wasn't smiling. His hands were clasped tightly together.

He avoided looking me in the eye. "Can I see you in my office?" he paused. "Now."

My chest sank.

Why?