My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 633

Chapter 633

Gianna

I sat as close to the passenger door as I could without pressing myself against the glass. My hands rested in my lap, twisting together so tightly my knuckles had turned white.

I could still feel Tasha clinging to me.

Please save us.

Then Jasmine’s voice.

Don’t tell the Capones.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Mom’s promise.

Tasha’s promise.

Raphael’s promise.

Every promise pulled me in a different direction until I couldn’t tell which one would break first.

The pain behind my eyes pulsed with every heartbeat.

The medication made everything slower, heavier. Thoughts that normally would’ve passed through my mind quietly now stayed. They circled. They repeated themselves until they became impossible to ignore.

Beside me, Raphael drove without saying a word. His eyes never left the road, both hands rested loosely on the steering wheel. He wasn’t tense. He wasn’t defensive. He simply… drove.

I looked at him for only a second before turning back toward the window.

Minutes passed before Raphael finally spoke, his voice was quiet, “If you’re wondering whether we killed your friends…”

My head turned toward him.

He still hadn’t looked at me, “We didn’t.”

I blinked, opened my mouth to say something but didn’t know what so I closed it. I didn’t answer.

He nodded once to himself, “I figured that’s what they’re telling you.”

My stomach dropped. He had watched us from across the parking lot. He hadn’t heard the words but he had seen enough.

I trusted him, I really did bu

Emma.

Brianina.

Morgan’s face kept appearing beneath that white sheet.

Raphael spoke again before I could ask the question trapped inside my throat, “And Gianna, if my family had done it,” he gave the smallest shake of his head, “The police never would’ve found them.”

I frowned, “What do you mean?”

“The bodies,” he slowed for another intersection, “They would’ve never reached a morgue.”

A strange look crossed his face, “I designed our disposal system six years ago. It’s a controlled high-temperature thermal destruction chamber.”

The words sounded almost unreal, like he was speaking another language.

“The primary chamber operates between 1,500 and 1,700 degrees Celsius. That’s significantly hotter than a normal crematorium. The chamber is lined with refractory ceramic designed to retain heat with almost no fluctuation.”

He paused and looked right into my eyes.