My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 749

Chapter 749

He pushed the door open, hoping to slip quietly to his corner.

He froze just as he entered because sitting, at the dirty kitchen table was his father, a glass of dark liquor clutched in his stained, yellowed hand, his eyes red and glassy.

His mother stood nearby, leaning against the counter, holding a half-empty bottle by the neck, her greasy hair falling over her angry, tired face.

Empty glass bottles cluttered the floor, clinking together as Giovanni stepped inside.

His father’s gaze snapped to the door, “Who said you could go to school today, eh?” his father roared, slamming his heavy glass down onto the table so hard the remaining liquid splashed over the wood.” Who gave you permission to run off and waste time with books?”

“Look at him,” his mother sneered, taking a long drink straight from her bottle before pointing a dirty finger at him, “Walking in here like a big shot with his stupid little backpack! Did you get our alcohol on the way back? Where are the bottles?”

Giovanni shrank back against the wall, his hands shaking at his sides, “I… I don’t have money,” Giovanni squeaked out, his small voice trembling. “They… they took my money at school…”

“You useless little rat!” his father barked, pushing his chair back with a loud screech. He stood up, swaying slightly on his feet, his dark shadow falling over the terrified boy, “You went to that stupid school, wasted your day, and came back empty-handed?”

Before Giovanni could run, his father’s heavy, calloused hand flew out, striking him hard across the face.

The force tore Giovanni off his feet, crashing him hard onto the dirty wooden floorboards. Pain exploded in his cheek, making his head spin.

“Get up!” his mother screamed, stepping over and driving the heavy heel of her shoe straight into his lower back, “We give you a roof over your head, and you can’t even fetch us a single drink! You’re good for nothing!” ”

Giovanni curled into a tight ball on the floor, holding his head as his father grabbed him by the back of his shirt and dragged him across the dusty floorboards like a sack of trash.

“You think school is going to fix you?” his father growled, raising a heavy leather belt he yanked from his waist, “You’re a broken, stupid piece of shit! You can’t even read a single line of a page!”

The thick leather swung down with a loud snap.

Giovanni let out a sharp scream as the leather bit deep into his shoulder. Another blow hit his back, followed by his mother kicking him hard in the ribs with her shoe.

“Can’t even carry a simple bottle home without sniveling like a little girl!” his mother yelled.

His father grabbed a heavy wooden stool, dragging it across the floor with a harsh scrape before

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bending down to yank Giovanni up by the collar of his shirt until his small feet barely touched the ground.

“You’re a brain-damaged half-wit!” his father spat directly into his bruised face, his grip tightening until the collar choked the boy. “Listen to what I’m about to say to you. You are a worthless, soft-headed mistake! You came out of the womb as defective trash, you worthless pig, and you’re going to rot in the dirt as defective trash! You hear me? You’ll never be nothing! You’re lower than the dirt under my boot!”

With a harsh laugh, he threw Giovanni back down onto the filthy floorboards.

Giovanni | Age 16 | Siderno, Calabria, Italy

Giovanni leaned against a graffiti-covered wall with a cigarette between his fingers.

At sixteen, he already looked older. There were too many broken noses, too many bruises, too many nights sleeping wherever he could after his father drank himself into another rage that had changed him.

A faded leather jacket hung loosely over his shoulders. A knife rested inside his boot. His hands were scarred. His knuckles were split open from another fight the night before.

Around him stood five boys from the neighborhood. The people they called family. The people they called brothers. Or at least… that was what Giovanni kept telling himself.

One of them laughed as he tossed a stolen wallet into the air before catching it again.

One of the boys threw an arm around Giovanni’s shoulders, “Come on, Gio,” he pointed across the street,”

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