My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 664

Chapter 664

My breathing became uneven. My pen snapped. The top half rolled across the desk. The bottom half stayed clenched in my fist. I looked down at the ink spreading over my fingers.

It took me several seconds to realize my hand was shaking.

Salvatore stayed quiet after the pen snapped. He didn’t reach for me. He didn’t try to take the broken piece from my hand. Raphael would, he would immediately, gently, take it all away from me but he wasn’t here right now, Salvatore was.

Salvatore simply watched me for a while before speaking again, “I’ve been thinking. I’ve had a lot of time to think since Hazel…” he looked down at the floor for a moment, “I was wrong about one thing. I kept telling myself that you and Raphael shouldn’t happen. But the more I think about it, the more I realize keeping you inside this family may have been the safest place for you.”

The words drifted through the fog.

Safe.

I stared at the ink staining my fingers.

“I don’t stand against the two of you anymore. But…”

But…

There is always a but.

“That doesn’t mean I stopped worrying. Your situation isn’t… ordinary. Neither is Raphael’s. Raphael has been blessed in ways very few people are. He has a brilliant mind. The kind of qualities families spend generations trying to build,” his voice remained matter-of-fact, “I’ve always wanted those qualities to continue.”

He wasn’t trying to be cruel, that was the frightening part. He was speaking his truth, and he believed every word.

“I wanted my grandchildren to inherit that. I wanted them to have the best chance possible,” he rubbed a hand over his jaw, “And I was afraid. I was afraid that if Raphael chose…” he cut himself off, “…our family would carry struggles that could have been avoided.”

His eyes dropped to the notebook. Then to the broken pen in my hand.

“I’ve watched how hard your life has been. You’ve fought battles most people will never understand. You’ve had to work twice as hard just to keep up,” his voice softened, “I wouldn’t wish that on a child.”

Something inside my chest tightened.

Painfully.

“I don’t want my grandchildren growing up fighting the same battles. I don’t want them waking up every day feeling… different. I don’t want them struggling the way you struggled. That isn’t because I think less of you. It’s because I’ve watched what it’s cost you.”

The words echoed against memories I hadn’t asked for.

I was seven again.

“Why can’t you read this?”

I was ten.

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