My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 776

Chapter 776

It…

It worked?

I picked up another report, almost afraid to breathe. Every conclusion sounded almost identical.

“Reading deficits resolved.”

“Cognitive function restored.”

“Patient discharged with no remaining evidence of dyslexia.”

Hope burst inside my chest so suddenly it almost hurt, just one broken breath escaped me before I covered my mouth, “Oh my God…”

It worked.

It actually worked.

Dad hadn’t been completely insane.

Dr. Vance had done it.

He had actually helped people.

I looked around the room.

Then…

Why?

If these people had recovered. If the treatment really cured dyslexia. Why hadn’t he done the same for himself? Why hadn’t he done it for Gio?

Why keep experimenting?

Why keep changing machines?

Why keep pushing farther?

None of it made sense.

I gathered the green folders together again. There had to be another answer. There had to be something I was missing.

I looked around the room once more. Every shelf was arranged with patient files, treatment logs, financial records, equipment manuals.

I forced myself to slow down.

Think.

I walked toward the main desk in the center of the room. Unlike the others, this one looked used. It had Dad’s reading glasses, fresh notebooks and his laptop.

I pulled open the top drawer but there were just empty folders and stationery. The second drawer held old research journals. The third was locked.

1/3

+15 Bonus

I looked around until my eyes landed on the small key rack hanging beside the computer monitor.

Five keys.

I tried the first, then the second and the drawer slid open. Inside wasn’t another patient file. It was a thick black binder.

Research Review

The cover looked newer than everything else in the room. I carried it to the desk and opened it. The first pages were filled with printed emails but none of them came from Dr. Vance.

They were from different universities, different hospitals, different researchers. Every one discussing the same thing.

Dyslexia.

I scanned the first page.

“Independent replication unsuccessful.”

“No measurable neurological restructuring observed.”

“Results inconsistent with published conclusions.”

A cold feeling settled into my stomach. I turned another page. Dad had written notes in the margin.

The next section held newer documents. The dates caught my eye.

Two years ago.

1 froze.

Exactly…

Two years ago.

The same year Gio’s treatment had ended. My hands started shaking again. I read faster. A private laboratory had reviewed decades of patient records inexhange for millions of dollars. Another team had examined brain scans, again bribed with millions of dollars. A third had repeated every statistical calculation from Dr. Vance’s original work.

Every conclusion sounded worse than the last.

“Unable to reproduce reported outcomes.”

“No evidence supporting therapeutic claims.”

“Recorded improvements cannot be scientifically verified.”

I stared at the page. Every report said the same thing. He had approached different experts from different countries who use different methods.

The conclusion never changed.

Finally I reached the last section. It was addressed directly to my father. I recognized the signature at the bottom.

A medical investigator.

2/3

+15 Benus

Dad had hired someone himself. Someone with no connection to Dr. Vance. Someone he trusted to check everything.

I scanned the letter.

The translation appeared on my phone.

“Mr. Toricelli,”

“After reviewing the complete archive of research, patient records, laboratory data, and follow-up documentation, my conclusion is unavoidable.”

My throat tightened.

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