My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 147

Chapter 147

My body remembered everything: the hallway, the heat of his breath, and the way I had screamed his name into my pillow just a few hours ago.

I took a slow sip of coffee, the bitter liquid burning my throat. I focused on the sound of Salvatore’s newspaper rustling.

“You’re quiet this morning, Gianna,” Salvatore said.

I didn’t look up, “Just tired. I stayed up late… studying.”

“Hard work is a trait of this family,” he said, and I felt a chill race down my spine. He set the paper down, “Which brings me to what I wanted to discuss. I’ve spoken with my lawyers. The paperwork is ready, and the name change is a simple filing away.”

I turned my head slowly and looked at him, “What?”

He leaned forward, “I want you to be a Capone, Gianna. Officially. I want you and Jules to have the protection, the inheritance, and the respect that comes with being my daughters.”

My heart stopped. Then it started again, racing with a suffocating panic.

Capone.

“Do not sign the papers, Little mess.”

The papers…

He knew.

The Capone name felt like a collar being snapped around my neck. All I could think about was the way Salvatore controlled my mother. The way he controlled the city. The way Raphael had pinned me to that desk. If I took that name, I wasn’t just a guest anymore, I was property. I would be under their thumb, under their laws, for the rest of my life. The fear of being owned flared up in my chest like a wildfire.

“No,” I blurted out.

He didn’t smile back. He just gave a single, almost invisible nod of his head, his expression remaining flat. He went back to his espresso, the conversation effectively ended by his word.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I felt a tiny bit of space open up in my lungs, but then I felt it, a dark weight from across the table.

I finally risked a look at Raphael.

He was staring at me from across the table, the morning light glinting off the edge of his black-rimmed glasses. My heart gave a frantic, heavy thud against my ribs as I realized he hadn’t looked away once.

A slow, almost non-existent smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. I had listened to him. I had done exactly what he told me to do in the darkness of that hallway. I felt a sick, dizzying rush of heat crawl up my neck. I was supposed to be free of the Capone name, but the way he was looking at me told a different story.

I hadn’t saved myself. I had just picked a different master.