My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 688

Chapter 688

One picture made my hand stop. Gianna couldn’t have been older than ten. Her hair was tied neatly into a bun, every other child smiling proudly toward the camera. Gianna wasn’t looking at the photographer. She was staring somewhere beyond the frame, her expression distant, almost watchful, as though she were waiting for something that never came.

On the next page, I found another instructor’s note.

“Technically gifted.”

“Learns routines faster than most students.”

“Student continues practicing despite bleeding feet. Must be forced to rest.”

I read the sentence twice, then a third time. My eyes remained on that sentence.

Until her feet bleed.

Another page.

A recommendation for rest after repeated injuries.

I continued through hospital records stretching across several years. Sprained ankles. High fevers. A fractured wrist. A mild concussion. Every injury came with an explanation that sounded reasonable on paper.

Every doctor treated what they saw in front of them and sent her home. Yet after reading dozens of reports together, a pattern began forming. She visited hospitals more often than most children. None of the doctors questioned it. None of them connected one injury to another. Individually, they were ordinary.

Together, they left me with an uncomfortable rage.

I reviewed every second of the security footage from six years ago, watching Gianna wander through the streets of Chicago day after day. She searched for Hazel, yet no matter how far she walked, she never seemed able to leave the neighborhood surrounding Rose Garden. It was as though that small corner of the city was the only place she knew.

Morning light slowly crept through my office windows as I closed the final folder. School. Ballet. Hospitals. Jobs. Security footage. Addresses. Assessments. Thousands of pages. Thousands of details. Yet the one thing I needed most wasn’t there.

There was no report describing what Giovanni had done. No witness statement. No police file. No photograph. No medical document that named him. It was as though someone had reached into her childhood and removed every trace before anyone

Aslow breath left my lungs.

As much as every instinct inside me wanted to walk down that hallway, open her bedroom door, and simply make sure she was asleep, I turned away.

She deserved one night without another problem demanding something from her. I forced myself toward my own bedroom instead.

When I finally reached my door, I loosened my tie with one hand while reaching for the handle with the other.

The room beyond was dark except for the warm glow of a single bedside lamp. I stepped inside, closed the door behind me, then stopped.

Gianna was sitting in the middle of my bed. She wasn’t asleep. She was waiting.

A soft silver satin nightdress caught the warm light from the bedside lamp, giving it a faint glow against her skin. It wasn’t extravagant or designed to demand attention. It simply looked… gentle and elegant like her. The pale color made her seem almost unreal against the dark sheets.

Her hair had been brushed loose, falling over her shoulders in soft waves. A touch of makeup highlighted features that had looked exhausted for days. It wasn’t heavy enough to hide the sadness lingering in her eyes, but it brought a little warmth back to her face. For the first time since Hazel’s funeral, she looked as though she had made an effort for herself.