My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 535

Chapter 535

She wasn’t dancing for an absence anymore. She knew. She knew I loved her. A strange warmth spread through my chest. The sensation felt unfamiliar. I still wasn’t entirely convinced my organs were functioning correctly.

But it was there.

For once, the feeling wasn’t confusing. It wasn’t overwhelming. It wasn’t some unidentified problem requiring medical intervention.

I knew exactly what it was.

And for the first time since Dr. Walker had practically beaten the truth into my skull, I stopped fighting it.

I stopped trying to explain it away, stopped trying to diagnose it, stopped trying to kill it before it had a name. I just stood there and watched her.

Gianna.

The bright stage lights caught against the diamond at her throat. Her movements were effortless, graceful, completely hers.

And something inside my chest settled not because she belonged to me because I belonged to her.

That was the part I had gotten wrong.

And now, there was someone whose happiness mattered more to me than my own. Someone I would burn cities for. Someone I would destroy men for. Someone I would choose… every single time.

My jaw tightened slightly.

Gianna Toricelli.

My best friend.

My favorite person.

The woman I loved.

Then my phone vibrated. The sound barely registered over the roar of the audience.

I ignored it, my eyes stayed on Gianna. The stage lights painted her gold. She was breathing hard.

The phone vibrated again.

My jaw tightened. Only a handful of people would interrupt me right now. None of them would do it for something unimportant. Without taking my eyes off the stage, I pulled the phone from my pocket.

A message.

Unknown number.

Video attachment.

The second I opened it, everything inside me went cold. The video shook slightly. Whoever filmed it had done quickly.

Ciro sat tied to a metal chair. His wrists were bound behind his back, blood covered half his face. One eye was swollen shut, his shirt was soaked red. He could barely hold his head upright but he was alive.

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The video ended.

A single message appeared underneath.

“Does this belong to you, Capone?”

The applause disappeared, the audience disappeared, the theater disappeared. My heartbeat slowed. A strange calm settled over me. The kind that always arrived right before violence. ↑

I pressed call, the line connected immediately. Vincenzo answered before the first ring finished.

My grip tightened around the phone, “You received the video?”

“Yes,” he answered.

I looked back toward the stage. Gianna stood beneath the spotlight. The audience was already rising to their feet thousands of people, standing, celebrating her.

For one brief second, something in me softened. There she was, safe and beautiful.

Then the moment ended, the softness disappeared and it was replaced by something much colder, much darker because keeping Gianna safe was my responsibility.

Mine.

And somebody had just made the mistake of reminding me.

“I know who it is,” I said quietly, my eyes never left the stage.

“So do I,” he answered.

Neither of us needed to say the name.

Leone fucking Caruso.

The audience erupted again as Gianna bowed. I watched her smile, watched her place her hand over her heart, watched the necklace catch the light.

I stood there for another few seconds, memorizing the sight of her, just in case tonight became complicated, then

I turned. The warmth from before disappeared completely. The man who had stood backstage watching her dance

was gone.

What remained was Raphael Capone.

And Raphael Capone had work to do.

By the time I pushed through the backstage exit and stepped into the cold New York night, I already had three phones in my hands.

One call to the pilots.

One call to my surveillance team.

One call to men whose job descriptions ended with the phrase solve problems permanently.

Leone Caruso wanted my attention.

Fine.

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