My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 629

Chapter 629

Her little silver stud earring was still in her left ear. I remembered helping her pick it out because she’d been too scared to get anything bigger. I remembered holding her hand while she got it pierced. She’d cried afterward, and then pretended she hadn’t.

“…Emma.”

My voice barely existed anymore.

The detective nodded. Then, there was the last table and before she uncovered it… I already knew. Raphael shifted a little closer as the sheets folded back.

Brianna.

Her blonde curls rested against the pillow beneath her head.

Her face was covered in bruises. Of the three of them, it looked as though she had endured the most before she died.

Something in my chest, simply… collapsed, “…Bri.”

The nickname slipped out before I could stop it, nobody answered, nobody smiled, nobody rolled their eyes.

I stared at all three covered tables.

This morning… they’d still been possibilities. Now, they were real.

The detective’s voice came softly from somewhere beside me, “Miss Toricelli?”

My knees gave out. The room tilted so suddenly that I forgot how to breathe. Before I could hit the floor, Raphael caught my arm.

I couldn’t take my eyes off Brianna.

No, this wasn’t Brianna. Brianna complained whenever she broke a nail. She hated hospitals. This… this couldn’t be her.

“Miss Toricelli?” Detective Bennett’s voice sounded far away, “…Can you confirm her identity?”

I stared at the small scar near her eyebrow. I remembered exactly how she’d gotten it. The night I turned eighteen, we were riding our bikes. She had insisted she could ride downhill without using the brakes. She couldn’t and crashed straight into a mailbox.

The memory hit me so hard my chest hurt, “…Brianna.”

Detective Bennett lowered her eyes and made a quiet note on her clipboard, “I’m very sorry.”

A staff member gently pulled the sheet back into place. I watched Brianna disappear beneath the white fabric. I stood there long after everyone else had stopped moving.

Promises about growing old together.

Detective Bennett guided me into a small office where she spoke gently, explaining that the formal identification had been completed and that the Medical Examiner would now continue with the autopsies before releasing their

bodies to their families.

And since they had no families, I decided to take their bodies and respectfully lay them to rest.

She asked me a few quiet questions about each of them, their full names, dates of birth, distinguishing features, and whether I knew how to reach any immediate relatives.

Another officer handed Raphael a folder containing the detective’s direct number, a victim services brochure, and information about grief counseling, explaining that a victim advocate would also contact the families over the coming days.

I told her there were no immediate family members to claim Morgan, Emma, or Brianna, “I’ll take responsibility for them,” I whispered. “They deserve to be laid to rest with dignity.”

Detective Bennett gave me a sympathetic nod and explained the legal steps that would need to be completed before their remains could be released into my care.

They told me I might be asked to answer more questions later if the investigation uncovered anything that required clarification, but for now, I was free to leave. Detective Bennett offered her condolences one last time before opening the office door for us.

I don’t remember thanking her. I don’t remember walking through the building. My feet kept moving anyway.

Raphael stayed beside me without speaking. He never tried to rush me. Never reached for me. He simply matched every slow step I took until the automatic glass doors slid open.