3: Memories My Ass

**Grayson's POV**

Zinnia Maxwell.

My brother’s secret girlfriend of six years.

Though “girlfriend” felt generous—more like a placeholder he kept around when it suited him. Something convenient. Easy.

Chris always described her as nerdy, quiet, and weird.

But the girl standing in front of me didn’t fit that description.

Not even close.

She looked… different. Unexpected. Unexpected in a way that made my chest tighten slightly, my throat closing before I could make sense of it.

I didn’t like that.

So I looked away.

Chris shifted almost immediately, subtly stepping in front of her like he was shielding her from my gaze.

My lips curved faintly.

Interesting.

“What’s this?” he asked, glancing at my outstretched hand before lifting his gaze to mine.

“A gift,” I replied, tilting my head slightly. “Or what? Brothers aren’t allowed to give gifts anymore?”

“From a normal brother? Sure.” His lips twitched, but there was no humor behind it. “From you? Not so much.”

Before I could respond, my mother’s voice cut in. “Oh, come on, Chris. Don’t be like that.”

Her hand came to rest on my shoulder, her face lighting up as she looked at me. I allowed it, as always.

She took the gift from my hand and passed it to Chris herself.

He accepted it—reluctantly.

“I’m so happy seeing you both here,” she said, her voice softening as she looked between us. “Standing together again… it brings back memories. Right, Gray?”

“Hmm.”

Memories my ass.

The only reason they wanted me here was for appearances. The media would have a field day if the eldest son of the Russo family skipped his brother’s engagement—and suddenly, I was expected to play along.

Be reasonable.

Show up.

Of course, I could’ve refused.

But I had my own reasons for coming.

And most of them had nothing to do with family.

My gaze flickered, almost unconsciously, back to her.

Zinnia.

“Anyways, Gray,” my mother continued, clapping lightly, “you must be tired. Go get some rest and join us downstairs for the engagement party tonight.”

I gave a small nod and turned toward the doors, Axel trailing behind me with my luggage.

I had barely reached the exit when my father’s voice stopped me.

“You came.”

I paused, glancing over my shoulder. “I did.”

He held my gaze for a second too long, his expression calm but laced with something colder—something I’d long stopped reacting to.

“Then I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

Of course he did.

“I always am,” I replied, before continuing on my way.

His voice stopped me again.

“Don’t ruin things for your brother.”

I didn’t respond. I just walked away.

_______

My room hadn’t changed.

Same furniture. Same layout. Same suffocating familiarity that used to make staying here unbearable.

I stepped inside, rolling my shoulders slightly as Axel placed my luggage down.

“Do you need anything else, sir?”

“No. You may leave.”

He bowed and closed the door behind him, leaving me alone in the quiet.

My phone buzzed.

I pulled it out without checking.

“Have you reviewed the case?” Harry’s voice came through immediately.

“Which one?” I asked, dropping onto the edge of the bed. “Bruno Maxwell?”

A brief pause. “Yes.”

Bruno Maxwell.

Billionaire. Conglomerate. Clean records.

A little too clean. Men like that always had something buried underneath and it was never pleasant.

“He’s missing,” Harry continued. “Or running. We don’t know yet. He claimed he was going on a business trip, but he was never sighted at the airport.”

“I’ve sent the full file to your email,” he added.

“I’ll check it later.”

“And his sister?” he asked. “Zinnia Maxwell. My sources said she’d be there.”

My gaze drifted toward the window without thinking. I stood, walking over, pulling the curtain aside just enough to see outside.

There she was.

Walking behind Chris and his fiancée like she didn’t belong in their perfect little picture.

She didn't.

“She’s here,” I said.

“Good. Then watch her. See if she knows something.”

I studied her for a moment longer. The stiffness in her shoulders, the hesitation in her steps.

“She looks like she’d crumble under pressure,” I said.

“Doesn’t matter,” Harry replied. “Just observe her anyway.”

The line went dead.

I didn’t move immediately.

Instead, I kept watching.

As if she felt it, her steps slowed. Then her head lifted.

Our eyes met.

She held my gaze and I didn’t look away.

She broke first, turning back to Chris. He followed her line of sight to me, a frown forming on his face.

I smirked.

This was going to be fun.