Claimed By The Tyrant Brother

Delilah’s POV

“Hey baby, I’m in Las Vegas. I know, change of plans, right? I’m sorry, but I won’t be back till tonight. Please rest for the baby’s sake. I love you both more than anything.” Caleb’s voice was soft and convincing.

I ended the call, my breath caught in my throat.

Liar.

Liar.

My husband is lying to me.

Because right now, he was walking through the glass doors of Weston Enterprises, smiling to himself, utterly unaware that I was standing just outside.

My heart slammed against my ribs, each beat louder, heavier, like it wanted to break free. I clutched the lunch bag until my knuckles blanched. I can't believe this!

Mrs. Weston?” the receptionist asked, eyes landing on my protruded belly. “Is… is everything okay?”

Typical question for a woman who's eight months pregnant. “I’m here to see my husband,” I said, forcing a tight smile.

Before she could say anything else, I walked away. He’d told me to rest, to stay home because I've been getting stressed lately, but I couldn't because we had a fight last night about that strange perfume, so I brought his favorite meal to cheer him up.

Besides his mother had been so spiteful this morning, so I'd do anything to escape that house.

But now this?? He just blatantly lied to me.

Or maybe he had to grab something before leaving? I'll see him out then.

I gripped the lunch bag tighter, heart hammering like it wanted to escape my chest. I forced my legs to move, rushing down the hallway, and as I rounded the corner, the elevator pinged.

And he came out, looking like the devil.

Not Caleb but Thorne— my brother-in-law. And he saw me instantly.

“Delilah,” he said, his voice teasing and dangerous. “Fancy seeing you here. Didn’t think you’d actually leave the house.”

I froze, heart hammering. God , I hated him. “What do you want, Thorne?”

Before I could move, he closed the space, cornering me against the cold wall. My back pressed to it, the lunch bag barely a shield between us.

“You always did like breaking the rules,” he murmured, dangerously close to me. “Coming here when you should be safe… pretty reckless.”

Thorne has been stalking me, following me whenever I leave the House or dropping intense letters in my window or at odd places, everyday. He always leaves it with a blood rose. That's psychotic if you ask me.

“Stop,” I spat, voice shaking. “Get away from me. I… I’ll get a restraining order if I have to.”

He chuckled, low and throaty. “Try.”

My pulse spiked, fear twisting with disgust. Why is he after me? He was my bully in college. The man who used to shove me into lockers. Who sneered at my thrift-store sweaters. Who disappeared like a curse years ago only to return now, slithering back into my life despite the fact I'm married to his brother.

“I haven’t told Caleb yet,” I said furiously. Well, it's because he’s too busy to care anyway. Not like I had a choice. “And if you try anything… if you try anything—I’ll make sure he knows everything. You hear me?”

He leaned closer, hand brushing a stray curl from my face. His eyes softened a bit. “I’ve missed you,” he murmured. “You don't reply to my letters."

“I said stop! I'm fucking married to your brother” I hissed. “I’m warning you. Back off, or—”

He smiled, maddeningly calm, letting the air between us thrum with tension. “Back off? And ruin all the fun? You've always loved a little danger, haven't you, Vwge.”

Vgwe. The old nickname. His slang for “virgin” back when he hated me. It used to sting, but now it sent a strange heat curling in my stomach.

I trembled with rage, heat, and fear. God, why now? Why him? But I forced myself to push the bag between us, shaking, angry, hating him with every fiber of my being.

“I hate you,” I whispered, venomously.

“Oh, I love hearing that,” he murmured, tilting his head, eyes gleaming. “It’s music to me.”

I shoved him really hard. “Move! I need to see my husband.” I snapped, and his grin faltered.

“Feisty,” he murmured, stepping back, though his eyes never left mine. “Caleb doesn’t know what he’s losing,” he murmured. “If he did, he’d be holding you right now instead of… whatever he’s doing.”

“You don't know my husband,” I spat, “and he’s… he’s flawed, but he’s good. Better than you’ll ever be!”

Thorne’s eyes darkened,“Oh? Is that what you think?”

“I think you’re a coward,” I said, voice rising. “A bully. You’ve always been. And don’t think I don’t know about… about what happened with your friend. You let him die! And you…” My voice broke for a second, but I forced the words out, “You don’t deserve anything—or anyone!”

His expression went dead still and I immediately regretted it. I didn’t mean to. Not like that.

But the words were already out. Floating between us like smoke. Fúck. Caleb told me about this when we first got married warning me that he's a disaster…mentally unstable.

His jaw ticked. His throat worked around whatever emotion he didn’t dare show.

“I—” I started, guilt twisting in my gut.

But pride wrapped around my throat and choked the apology. “You should leave, " I managed.

He took a step back. “Right,” he said, flatly. “Thanks for the reminder, Mrs. Weston.”

He turned and walked away, heading down the hall like I hadn’t just stabbed something buried deep inside him.

My fingers trembled as I clutched the lunch bag tighter.

I didn’t come here for Thorne.

I came for my husband. I exhaled, and headed straight to Caleb’s office. I knew the way. The large double doors at the end of the corridor, always slightly ajar.

This time, they were cracked open just enough. And as I got closer I froze at the unmistakable sound of moaning from the room.

“Fuck…faster! Faster!” The familiar voice said, moaning loudly. "Cal…fuck!"

It's Cheryse’s voice— his secretary.

I couldn't breathe as I walked closer, shoulders limp like a living dead. I peeked through the door to see Caleb thrusting from behind. Her shirt was unbuttoned, hair tousled, lipstick smudged. She was gripping the desk tightly as he pounded her mercilessly.

My world went crashing down as I covered my mouth to prevent the scream clawing up my throat.

What…. how…. How could he??

“You thought I was gonna leave without fucking that sweet ass of yours? No fucking way, baby."

" We..uhhh..oh faster, I love you!!" Cheryse moaned like a slut.

The sound of their skin slapping together still echoed in my ears like a gunshot.

Everything was moving too fast and too slow, all at once.

I started running, as my legs moved on their own. It was like they didn’t belong to me. Like my body had short-circuited from betrayal.

Each step was disoriented, dizzying. The walls tilted as my vision blurred. My fingers trembled violently.

How could he do this to me? I've…I've been a fool! What was his fucking reason??

The scent of pasta and chocolate mousse I got for him,her perfume, and him—they tangled in the air around me, choking me…

I heard someone shout my name. “Delilah!"

But it was too late to stop myself as my heel snagged the edge of the marble stairs and I slipped, falling backwards.

My back slammed the stairs first. Then my shoulder. Then the sharp crack of my head against the cold marble.

Pain flared so bright I thought the lights had exploded.

And then I felt .the wet warmth between my thighs…

My baby…