All Chapters of Claimed By The Tyrant Brother : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

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

Delilah’s POV “Oh, the bitch is back,” Estelle’s voice was as cold as ice. “I thought you’d finally fucked off for good.” I stood by the door, my chest tightening. Every word she spat felt like needles against raw skin. My hands trembled, but I forced myself to stand straight. I tried to ignore her. “Where have you been?” My mother-in-law rolled eyes. “You can’t just leave the goddamn house without my permission.” My throat burned, my tears threatening to spill. A lot of crazy emotions tangled inside me. “…I lost my baby,” I whispered, not knowing what else to do. Estelle’s smirk widened. “Oh… you lost it? Figures. You’re not fit to carry a Weston child.” she shrugged. What the hell?? How dare she? My chest constricted, fury igniting like wildfire. “Not fit? You—You piece of—! You think you get to say that? After everything? You’ve spent your whole life trying to ruin me, Estelle. I've had enough of it! You're so fucking heartless and it's pathetic that you're a mother. “ She

Caleb’s POV How dare this bitch? How dare she interfere in my fucking life. I'm going to end her rotting ass! Delilah had walked away— but not on my watch. I'm going to make her regret this. Everything is over. The pitiful stares I received from others were just enough to make my skin boil. The respect I’d spent years commanding now lay splattered on the marble like the champagne she threw in my face. I have to get out of here, to think, to regroup. Luckily, I kept a driver on speed-dial for nights like this — a man who waited and never asked questions. Having so many enemies can make you jittery — I never expected it to be my wife. I stood frozen, the taste of bitterness and betrayal clinging to my lips. How could Delilah do this to me? My fists clenched at my sides as I watched her descend the stairs—shoulders high, head tilted, like she hadn’t just torn the Weston legacy apart in front of foreign investors and politicians. I invited top dignitaries! Funny enough I've never don

Delilah’s POVThe heavy door clicked shut behind me, and I exhaled like I’d been holding my breath for years. I able to slip past the guests, and was finally out of the house I didn’t even make it three steps before my phone buzzed. It was a message from Thorne.>>“Driver’s downstairs. He’s taking you to the mansion”I blinked. The mansion? What mansion?Wait—who said anything about a damn mansion?My thumbs hovered over my screen. I thought he’d booked a hotel or… hell, even a bunker would’ve made more sense. I didn’t want to go to his place. I didn’t want to be his guest. This feels like he's already establishing that I'm his.Swallowing the lump rising in my throat, I typed back:>>“I need to see someone first.”His response came seconds later.>> “I’m counting. You’re supposed to be there by 8.”I stared at the message, stunned.I scoffed. Counting? Who the hell did he think he was—God?I shoved my phone into my bag and walked straight past the black SUV idling near the curb. The

Delilah’s POVThey invited me for dinner and I couldn't say no. Mr. Sinclair refilled my glass with sparkling apple cider, smiling warmly. “You haven’t said a word in five minutes, Delilah. That’s either a compliment or a medical emergency.”I let out a breathy laugh. “No, it’s a compliment. I forgot what real food tastes like. Thank you… seriously. This was amazing.”I enjoyed their Roast chicken, buttery mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, and freshly baked cornbread muffins. The Sinclairs always cooked from the heart, and tonight, they fed more than just my stomach. I felt calm and food they say, is healing.Mrs. Sinclair beamed. “You’ve lost weight. Your face looks tired, too. That man didn’t feed you, did he?”I smirked. “Caleb believed in food for aesthetics. Tiny portions. Microgreens. Half a scallop and a dramatic drizzle of reduction sauce.”He didn't want me to be so big when I'm pregnant. God, thankfully I would sneak into the kitchen to stuff my mouth with food whenev