Page 8 of Symphony for Lies

“Let me through.”I tried to move past him again, but he didn’t budge.

With a sigh, I pressed the doorbell, hoping another family member or Mrs. Thompson would come and settle this.

Zane’s stare sharpened.“Since when have you been tutoring Simon?”

“For a few months now,” I answered, keeping my tone cool.

Something flickered in his eyes. And a smirk played on his lips. It was not genuine or friendly but definitely amused.

My patience had been running thin all day, and he was dangerously close to testing the last of it.

“I’m coming!”Simon’s yell broke the tension.The child slipped through the narrow gap between the doorframe and Zane’s body, immediately running into my arms.

“There you are! I’ve been waiting for you!” He hugged me, and I felt some tension ease from my shoulders for the first time since arriving.

The kid barely reached my stomach in height, but I knew he would catch up to his father and brother one day. They were both very tall.

“Hey, Simon. I’m sorry I got held up.” I returned his hug and glanced back at the older sibling.

Wordlessly, he stepped aside.

Simon let go of me, grabbed my hand, and pulled me inside. Pausing, he said,“This is my big brother, Zane. The one I told you about! He just got back a few days ago.” Then, he gestured at me. “Zane, this is my tutor—”

“Amelia.” Zane cut him off.

My brows raised. He knew my name?

“Oh! So, you two already know each other?” Simon beamed.

I looked back at the young boy, who seemed happy about our acquaintance. His long black hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, and, as always, he was dressed far too formally for his age with a buttoned-up shirt and pressed jeans.

Zane cleared his throat.

For a second, I expected an apology.

But instead, he said, “A few months, huh? That’s a long time… for me not to notice.”

He was picking up our conversation as if it had never been interrupted.

I rolled my eyes, putting on my most professional smile. I wasn’t about to let Zane drag me into his mind games.“I’m not here to be noticed by you.”

He let my words hang in the air. Then, in a lazy drawl, he murmured, “What a shame…”

My heart skipped a beat.

His eyes were on me. Too intense. Too demanding.

I turned away. “Come on, Simon. We have a lot to cover to––”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you at a few of my performances before.” Zane’s voice slid through the air like a slow melody.

I stopped moving.

“Are you a fan of mine?” His stare was unreadable.

I swallowed.

What was this? Why was he pushing this unnecessary conversation further?

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