All Chapters of Dirty Stepbrother: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Right after the blast, there was a heavy thud on the recording, like a body hitting the floor,followed by the sound of quick, frantic footsteps moving away.The tape went completely silent. The little red light blinked one last time, and the screen wenttotally black. The battery was dead."No," I breathed, my voice cracking as hot tears finally spilled over my eyelashes, burning myswollen left eye. "No, no, no.""Jae," Sophie whispered, her hand touching my arm. "Jae, I’m so sorry. I didn't know. I swear Ididn't know she did that.""She shot him," I said, clutching the dead recorder against my chest. My body was shaking with a deep, agonizing sorrow. "It wasn't a robbery, Sophie. It wasn't even about the business merger.My dad died trying to protect me from the very beginning, entirely blind to the fact that his ownwife was the one holding the gun.""What are we going to do now?" Sophie asked, looking around the train car as it started to slowdown for our stop. "If Archer's law

Sophie stayed on the floor, her shoulders shaking as she kept her face buried in her hands.The room was completely quiet except for the low, rhythmic click of the laptop fan cooling theprocessor.I stood by the desk, my fingers resting on the plastic casing of the flash drive hidden inside mysneaker."Get up, Sophie," I said, my voice flat. "He’s driving from downtown. That gives us ten minutes,maybe less if the traffic is light."Sophie lifted her headSophie stayed on the floor, her shoulders shaking as she kept her face buried in her hands.The room was completely quiet except for the low, rhythmic click of the laptop fan cooling theprocessor.I stood by the desk, my fingers resting on the plastic casing of the flash drive hidden inside mysneaker."Get up, Sophie," I said, my voice flat. "He’s driving from downtown. That gives us ten minutes,maybe less if the traffic is light."Sophie lifted her head, her face pale and streaked with fresh tears."Jae, you don't understand how

The ride back to the county hospital was completely quiet. This time, there were no loud sirens or screeching tires.A police cruiser drove slowly right in front of the ambulance, its blue lights blinking softlyagainst the foggy morning windows. Sebastian lay on the hard gurney next to me, his eyes closed and his large chest rising and falling in a deep, heavy sleep.The doctors had injected a strong sedative into his IV line the second they lifted him out of myapartment, forcing his body to finally shut down and rest. I sat on the narrow plastic bench, my hands jammed deep inside the pockets of my black hoodie.The little flash drive was pressed flat against my thigh, hidden securely inside the lining of mysneaker.Marcus Vance sat on the opposite bench, his leather briefcase resting flat on his knees.He didn't look at the blood on my jacket or the purple swelling around my left eye. He juststared straight ahead, his silver eyebrows pulled together in a hard, serious line."The

The county holding facility smelled like industrial bleach, cold floor wax, and old grease. It sat downtown, surrounded by high concrete walls and thick rolls of razor wire that looked sharp against the grey morning sky.Marcus Vance’s private car dropped us off at the secure side entrance, avoiding the two newsvans parked near the main gates.Sebastian walked right next to me through the metal detectors, his heavy boots making a loud,hollow sound on the tile floor.His dark eyes were wide and restless, tracking every guard who walked past us with a heavy ring of keys. He kept his large hand locked tightly around my wrist, his skin burning hot against mine.His jaw was still wrapped tight in the white medical tape, his mouth held shut by those silver wires, but the raw anger radiating off him was loud enough to fill the entire waiting lobby."Mr. Vaughn, you have to sit here," a female guard in a dark brown uniform said, pointingtoward a row of bolted-down plastic chairs near the w

Moving into the new apartment downtown took us the whole weekend. The new place was onthe fourth floor of an old brick building with large windows that let the city sounds filter infrom the street below.It didn't smell like the old apartment, and it definitely didn't smell like the Vaughn mansion. It just smelled like fresh paint and clean wood.Sebastian spent Saturday afternoon assembling the heavy wooden bed frame in our new bedroom. He was still quiet, but it wasn't the scary, tense silence from the month before.He just looked focused, his forehead sweaty as he tightened the screws with a hand tool.Lucky ran back and forth between the living room and the kitchen, his little nails clickinghappily against the polished floorboards.He had already claimed a soft blue dog bed in the corner by the radiator, dragging an old hockey sock of Sebastian's into it to use as a pillow.By Tuesday afternoon, the boxes were mostly gone, and the heavy weight of the world felt a little lighter