Broken Hands

114. Perez Brothers

Grayson stared at his grandfather's back, his pulse hammering in his ears.

"Who is he?" His voice was uneven, tangled with disbelief and anger. "Why didn't you tell me? Does that mean they know? Why did you all hide this from me?"

The old man turned slowly, his expression calm and composed. "Damien and Alexander don't know."

Grayson blinked. What?

"In fact," Senior Smith continued, voice steady, "they don't know most of what I just told you."

The floor beneath Grayson felt unsteady. His breath hitched as he tried to grasp the weight of those words. They don't know?

"Why?" His throat was dry. "Why hide this from your own sons?"

Senior Smith studied him with quiet understanding. "For Damien, I wanted to make his life easier. He has a family now, a son. A career. If he knew, he wouldn't stop until he tracked every last person involved and tore them apart, no matter the cost. And believe me, Grayson..." He let out a slow breath. "Damien is like fuel—all he needs is a spark."

Grayson swallowed. He knew his uncle and he knew Senior Smith was not wrong.

"Alexander, He worries too much. And he'd tell Damien in a heartbeat."

Grayson almost nodded absorbing the information.

"And Raymond?"

Senior Smith allowed his shoulders to relax. "And Raymond is Raymond. You can answer that one yourself."

Grayson shifted. True.

The old man's gaze sharpened. "There are other reasons, ones you're too young to understand. But with time, with fatherhood... you will."

Grayson ignored the weight of those words, pushing forward.

"Who is he?" His voice was low, and steady, but beneath it, anger simmered.

Senior Smith turned fully now, locking eyes with him. "Your father is not someone I'd ever approve of you associating with."

Grayson's fists clenched. "That's my decision."

The words came out sharper than intended, but he didn't regret them.

For the first time, the man's gaze hardened—just slightly, but enough to make Grayson falter. He looked just like Damien in that moment, for a split second Grayson thought he would be mad.

"You're right, son," he said, voice like steel. "But don't run headfirst into this like your mother."

Grayson swallowed hard.

"I used to know your grandfather—the other one, not personally though. He had a long history with the law, but he was wealthy enough to keep slipping through the cracks. And when he suddenly died, he left everything to his son." Senior Smith exhaled sharply. "The youngest heir in their history. Adopted, so I heard, but I can't tell."

Grayson's breath stilled.

"And what happened next was inevitable. The kid ran it like he wanted."

Grayson's head tilted slightly. "Ran what?"

"The business." Senior Smith's expression darkened. "Except it wasn't a corporation—it was the mafia."

Grayson's stomach turned.

"They were fraudsters, drug dealers. But they had a code—they only dealt in powders. That's how they stayed under the radar." He took another sip of his drink before setting the glass down with a quiet clink. "I had a feeling your mother's sudden change—her recklessness, her secrecy—wasn't just her. Someone influenced her."