My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 765

Chapter 765

She squeezed her eyes shut, “Please… so cold…”

He ignored her and I squeezed my eyes shut. His fingers checked each connection before attaching another sensor behind her ear.

The monitor beside him came alive, lines began moving across the screen, numbers, waveforms and brain activity.

He spoke toward the front camera again, “Subject continues displaying significant neurological inefficiencies consistent with severe developmental dyslexia. Traditional educational intervention has failed to produce acceptable improvement. Current protocol aims to stimulate targeted neural adaptation through repeated synchronized exposure and electrical modulation.”

He said it the way someone else might explain changing a tire. Gianna rubbed one thumb against the restraint around her wrist over and over again until the leather turned her skin pink.

Dr. Crowe crouched in front of her, “What is your name?”

She swallowed, “Gianna.”

“Louder.”

“Gianna Toricelli.”

“Age?”

“Sixteen.”

He made a note without looking up, “Do you know why you’re here today?”

Her lips parted, she hesitated, and his eyes lifted from the clipboard, glaring at her.

“So…” she whispered, “…my brain can… get better.”

“Better?” he repeated.

She nodded quickly, “So I can read properly.”

“The subject continues demonstrating an awareness of her own neurological deficiencies,” he adjusted one of the wires connected to her temple, “The objective remains correction of abnormal neural function.”

Correction.

The word echoed inside my head. Gianna shifted against the restraints. The leather squeaked. Her breathing had become shallow.

“Will…” she asked quietly, “…will it hurt… today?”

He looked at her, “Discomfort is a normal part of treatment, you should know that by now, but you ask these questions every single fucking time.”

“I was… good yesterday.”

“You were.”

“I read all the pages.”

“You did,” he continued, “That’s why, today’s procedure will be longer.”

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The little bit of hope disappeared from her face, “No…” her fingers pulled uselessly against the straps, “I don’t want the long one.”

Dr. Crowe checked another cable, “The protocol is not determined by patient preference.”

“I’m… scared, please, tell Daddy, I’ll do… better. I promise, I’ll be… good…”

He walked back toward the equipment.

She made a small sound, the kind a frightened child makes when they’re trying very hard not to cry because they think crying will only make things worse.

Dr. Crowe didn’t even turn around.

Instead, he faced his own camera once more, “Subject displays predictable anticipatory anxiety before electrical stimulation.”

He looked down at another page on his clipboard.

“The emotional response has no measurable impact on the effectiveness of the protocol and will not alter today’s procedure.”

He reached toward a control panel just outside the hidden camera’s frame.

My hand slammed onto the desk so hard the keyboard jumped. The video kept playing. I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t breathe. And for the first time in years…

I understood why Hazel had never been able to watch it.

I should have stopped the video, closed the file and walked away. Instead, my hands stayed frozen.

As her small body convulsed against the restraints, spit ran down her chin and her eyes rolled back beneath trembling lids.

I didn’t look away.

I forced myself to watch every second of it.

Because if I was going to bury every last one of the men responsible… I needed to know exactly what they had done to her.

I needed to see every detail. So when the time came… I’d know exactly how much suffering still wouldn’t be enough to repay what they’d stolen from her.

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The recording continued and the current finally stopped.

Dr. Crowe reached for the control panel and turned a dial down with the same casual ease someone might lower the volume on a radio.

Gianna’s body went limp against the restraints.

Her chest rose and fell in quick, uneven breaths. Small tremors still ran through her arms and legs, refusing to

stop even after the electricity had. Tears streamed silently down her face while she struggled to catch her breath, a quiet whimper escaping every few seconds.

I watched every second of it.

Every shake.

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Every broken breath.

Every tiny movement her body made as it fought to recover.

Dr. Crowe stepped toward a steel stand positioned in front of Gianna. Until then, it had been hidden by the angle of the camera. A thin board was clipped to it, rows of printed words, large black letters.

Simple enough that any child her age should have been able to read them. He adjusted the stand until it sat directly in front of her eyes.

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