My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 18

Because if anyone ever saw what was really inside my head… they’d know exactly how useless I felt. And if I failed here, I had nothing.

No backup. No safety net.

I’d end up exactly where men like him always said I belonged, standing quietly in the shadow of someone else’s life.

I’d never be able to give my mom and Jules the future they deserved.

And if I gave up now… then they’d be right. I’d just be what they always called me.

Dumb.

Useless.

Gianna.

The professor’s voice cut through my thoughts, “Gianna,” he said, looking straight at me, “Explain how multiple filters work in one convolutional layer.”

My stomach dropped. The words were right there in my head. I saw the patterns. I saw the numbers, the flow of data, the way each filter caught edges before the next layer stacked them into something meaningful.

But my mouth refused.

I opened it, closed it and then opened it again. The letters tangled up before they left my lips.

“It… uh… each filter… it… um…”

“Go on,” he prompted.

I could feel every eye in the room on me. My hands shook on the desk. My notebook felt heavier than a brick.

“Filters detect… patterns… in images… then… they… um…” I stopped.

My throat ached. My brain was screaming, trying to push the perfect answer out in numbers and symbols, but the words the stupid, simple words refused to cooperate.

The professor sighed and shook his head, “Gianna… you really need to work on articulating your thoughts. You know the material, but you sound like you’re making it up as you go.”

Making it up as I go.

That’s exactly what it felt like. Always like I was pretending. I slumped back in my chair, chewing the inside of my cheek. My ears burned. The voice at the back of my head, the one that never went quiet, started screaming.

I wouldn’t let them win.

I turned back to my keyboard, my fingers trembling as they hovered over the keys before finally pressing down. Line after line of code began to fill the screen. I focused on the patterns, the logic, the numbers. The only language that never betrayed me.

I had to prove I was stronger than those voices.

I had to prove my mind belonged to me.

I didn’t need a man to tell me who I was. I didn’t need a brother to stand in front of me or a father to decide my worth.

My heart felt small and bruised in my chest, like it could crack if someone touched it the wrong way. Fear curled low in my stomach, and the loneliness of the crowded room pressed against my ribs but I refused to stop.

I would build my life out of numbers and code and stubborn, relentless effort.

I would be the one who gave Jules and my mum the life they deserved.

And when I was done, no man would ever get to stand over me and decide my worth again.