My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 774

Chapter 774

Gianna

+15 BYPRO

I don’t know how long I sat there.

The room had gone completely silent around me. The files, the shelves, the glowing computer screens… they all. seemed farther away now.

I lowered my hand from my own file and forced myself to look at the shelf again.

My eyes moved across the labels. I already knew who I was looking for. It didn’t take long to find him. The folder was thick, not as thick as mine but close. My stomach tightened as I pulled it free.

Giovanni Toricelli Jr.

For a moment, I just stared at the name and gathered the courage to look through it. Then I opened it, the first pages looked familiar like the other thousands of files in here.

I scanned page after page with my phone. The app translated everything neatly across the screen.

“Subject demonstrates inherited developmental dyslexia.”

“Treatment protocol adapted from previous research findings.”

“Expected response remains favorable.”

My grip tightened around the phone.

Expected response.

As if my brother was a laboratory result waiting to happen. I kept reading.

Every year had been documented just like Dr Vance always did. Every session, every test, every failure, and every adjustment.

The deeper I went, the worse it became.

Because unlike me…

Giovanni hadn’t started as a child.

He’d started older, old enough to understand what was happening, old enough to be afraid, old enough to remember every second of it.

I swallowed hard and kept turning pages, then I noticed something strange. The reports suddenly became shorter. The observations became rushed. Entire sections were missing.

My eyes narrowed.

Something had changed. I scanned another page, then another. The dates grew closer together. The handwriting became less organized. Dr. Vance’s notes lost their usual confidence. For the first time in hundreds of pages, uncertainty began appearing.

Then I reached the final section.

The very last file.

173

The last session.

My pulse quickened, the report was incomplete. Half-finished sentences filled the page. Observations ended abruptly. The final paragraph simply stopped in the middle of a word.

I frowned.

My eyes drifted toward the stack of discs beside the computer. One sat on top. The matching number stared back at

My stomach dropped as I reached for it. The disc slid into the drive. The computer hummed, a folder opened.

One video.

Only one.

I clicked it.

For several seconds, the screen remained black, then the image appeared.

Giovanni sat strapped into the chair. He looked younger, around fourteen, that was probably his last session. My brother sat quietly while wires ran from his temples to a machine beside him.

He looked exhausted.

Dr. Vance stood nearby with a clipboard in hand. The sight of him made my stomach twist, the recording continued with questions, reading exercises, memory tests.

The same routine I’d watched in dozens of other recordings. Then something changed, a warning flashed across

one of the monitors.

Dr. Vance smiled.

Giovanni shifted in the chair, “What was that?” he asked.

Dr. Vance glanced toward the screen, “Nothing.”

Another warning appeared, this time accompanied by a sharp electronic tone. Giovanni looked uncomfortable. His fingers tightened against the restraints, “I don’t think that’s supposed to

The machine activated and his entire body jerked. The words died in his throat, and my heart stopped. The shock didn’t stop. It kept going and going and going. The chair rattled violently against the floor. Every muscle in Giovanni’s body locked. His back arched so hard I thought something might snap.

My hand flew over my mouth, “No…”

The machine continued, the monitor alarms grew louder, red warning lights flashed. Giovanni convulsed against the restraints.

My eyes shot toward Dr. Vance, waiting for him to stop it, to do something.

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