My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 290

Chapter 290

“That’s horrible,” Maddie murmured, “To just turn a child’s life upside down like that because of her gender.

“He still wanted me to be perfect, though,” I continued, staring out at the dew-covered gardens below. “Like, beyond perfect. He wanted me to learn how to code, to get deep into computers and networks because he needed those skills for his business. He wanted me to help my brother when he took over. It was never my dream but forced myself to make it my dream. I tried so hard to be the smart, useful girl he wanted.”

I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, feeling the old, familiar headache behind my temples.

“I like dancing. My mother was the one who got me into ballet when I was little, and when I was in that studio, felt alive. But with college, and trying to learn the business, and trying to survive… I couldn’t focus on all of it. So I gave up ballet, too.”

“You shouldn’t have had to give up the one thing that made you happy,” Claire said, she reached over and touched my arm, “What about other hobbies? Things you did just for fun that you can make time for?”

“I don’t have hobbies,” I said, looking at my hands, “As a child, there was no time for things like that. The only things my dad made sure I knew how to do were shooting and fighting. If I wasn’t studying, I was at the range or on the mats. And I haven’t done either of those things in such a long time.”

Maddie rested her chin on her hand, her expression thoughtful.

I looked up at Maddie, then at Claire, the orange sunlight catching the tears in my eyes, “I have never told this to anyone but I know I want to do something powerful. I want to help women who are helpless. Women who depend on dangerous men just to survive, who feel like they have nowhere to go and no way to fight back. I want to be someone who can stand up for them. I want to give them the tools to be strong. Women like my mother…”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat, looking down at my hands. My fingers were shaking. It was one thing to want to help people, but it was another to admit how broken you felt inside.

“Because…” I started, a hot tear finally escaping and running down my cold cheek. I took a shaky breath, forcing myself to say the words out loud to someone else for the very first time, “Because there are things about me that are… broken. I have dyslexia and dysgraphia. I can’t read like normal people do, and I can’t write without everything getting jumbled up.”

The roof went completely silent, save for the quiet rustle of the leaves in the garden below. I kept my eyes glued to my lap, waiting for the laughter, or the pity, or the look of disappointment I was so used to imagining.

“I’ve spent my whole life hiding it, pretending to be someone else so everyone wouldn’t see how useless I was,” I sobbed, “I’m a liar, I lie to my mother, I lie to people all the time because I feel like an idiot. I’m so afraid that when people finally see the real me, they’ll realize I will never be anything of substance. Ever.”