Bound To The Ruthless Mafia Heir; Claimed By His Brother

Chapter Six

I sat at the long dining table, pulling apart a croissant that I had no intention of eating. The noise from the AC was starting to irritate me, but I just ground my teeth and sat through it.

Cassian sat at the head of the table. He wasn't looking at me, though. He was busy reading through some documents, his fingers turning the pages with slow, agonizing precision. The scar on his cheek caught the harsh morning light, making him look even more ruthless than usual.

"You aren't eating, Belinda," Cassian said, still not looking up from his papers.

"I'm not very hungry," I replied. My voice sounded small, even to my own ears. I hated how cautious I felt around him now.

"Eat," he commanded quietly. "You have a long day ahead of you."

Before I could ask what he meant, Alberto walked into the dining room and went straight to him, not even acknowledging my presence.

"Sir, the new security protocols have been implemented," Alberto said, standing at attention. "The West Wing corridor is now restricted to personnel with level-one clearance only. Mrs. Moretti's daily walks will be confined to the inner courtyard under guard."

I dropped my fork, which hit the plate with a loud clatter. "Excuse me? The West Wing? That’s where the library is. You’re locking me out of the library?"

Cassian finally raised his eyes. Those beautiful orbs were devoid of any sort of warmth. "There have been security breaches recently, as you well know after your little… incident. Until I am satisfied that the estate is secure, your movements will be monitored. It is for your own safety."

"It feels like prison," I said, my chest tightening.

"It is protection," Cassian corrected, his tone perfectly flat. "Alberto, ensure the staff understands the new rotation. No one speaks to my wife without my explicit permission."

"Yes, Sir," Alberto said, bowing his head before slipping out of the room.

I stared at my husband, anger bubbling up past the fear. "You're punishing me."

"If I were punishing you, Belinda, you would know," Cassian said. He stacked his papers neatly and rolled his wheelchair backward from the table. "Enjoy your breakfast."

He left before I could say another word, and I was alone in the massive room, the silence pressing down on me. He knew something. He had to know. He was acting colder than usual, and something told me that this wasn't normal.

I got up from the table and walked toward the main foyer, needing to escape the suffocating room. As I reached the bottom of the grand staircase, the front doors opened, and Rafael walked in.

My heart skipped a beat. His golden hair was slightly messy, and he looked tired, but the moment his blue eyes locked onto mine, a familiar spark flared up. I took a step toward him, my lips parting to say his name.

Rafael paused as he took a look in my direction. The warmth was there, hidden deep, but then his face hardened into a polite, distant mask. He took a step back, creating a deliberate distance between us.

"Good morning, Belinda," Rafael said, his voice professional.

"Rafael," I greeted. "What's going on? Cassian just changed all the security. I can't even go to the library."

Rafael kept his hands in his pockets but didn't make any effort to come closer. "Cassian is running the family, Belinda. If he says the security needs an upgrade, then it needs an upgrade. I suggest that you follow his rules."

I frowned, a sudden chill replacing the brief warmth. I forced myself to take a breath, my voice low, choosing my words carefully. "I understand how this works, Rafael. I just didn't expect the sudden lockdown. Is there something we should be anticipating?"

"We are always anticipating threats, Belinda," Rafael said, though I could see a muscle twitch in his jaw. He was angry, but he was keeping it tightly bottled up. "The Boss wants you ready by four o'clock this afternoon. There is a dinner here tonight with the legal and political teams. You need to be there."

"Why?"

"Because you are a Moretti now," Rafael said, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "And Cassian wants everyone to see exactly what belongs to him."

He turned and walked down the hallway toward Cassian’s office without looking back. I stood there, feeling utterly abandoned. Rafael was pulling away, hiding behind his brother's authority because he was terrified of what we had done.

By four o'clock, two maids I had never seen before showed up in my room. They didn't say a single word. It was like they were puppets, being made to do one thing… get me ready.

The silence in the house was deafening now. Every guard I passed in the hallway stood rigidly, their eyes fixed forward, completely ignoring my existence. I felt like a ghost walking through a graveyard.

The dinner was held in the formal banquet hall. Strangers in expensive suits filled the room, from lawyers to judges and political fixers who kept the Moretti empire running smoothly in the public eye.

Cassian sat at the center of the table. I was placed directly to his right. Rafael sat across from us, acting as the charming host, pouring drinks and laughing with the politicians. But every time Rafael’s eyes wandered to my side of the table, he quickly looked away.

"You look beautiful tonight, my dear," an older man named Judge Alvarez said, leaning across the table toward me. "Cassian is a lucky man. The Rossi alliance is already doing wonders for our shipping interests."

"Thank you," I said, forcing a polite smile. "I'm glad my family's standing is useful to you."

Cassian placed his hand over mine on the table. His palm was cool, his grip firm. It wasn't an affectionate gesture, though; it was a claim.

"Belinda understands her role perfectly," Cassian said to the judge, his voice carrying across the immediate section of the table. "She is the anchor of this agreement. A constant reminder of what happens when two families align perfectly."

I looked down at his hand on mine. He didn't look at me while he spoke, but his fingers tightened just enough to hurt.

He was telling everyone—and telling me—that I was his property. It was a psychological tactic. He was parading me around like a prize, using the public setting to remind me exactly where I belonged.

As the dinner progressed, the air grew heavy. I felt sick to my stomach. I excused myself to get a glass of water from the side bar, needing a moment away from Cassian’s suffocating grip.

I stood by the crystal decanters, pouring water into a glass, my hands shaking slightly.

"You need to breathe," a voice murmured beside me.

It was Rafael. He had walked over under the guise of refilling his whiskey glass. He stood close enough that I could smell his cologne, but he didn't look at me. He kept his eyes on the bottle in his hand.

"I can't do this, Rafael," I whispered, my voice trembling. "He's doing this on purpose."

He stayed silent, not saying anything to me.

"I miss you," I said, the confession slipping out before I could stop it.

Rafael froze for a second. His fingers gripped the whiskey glass so tightly his knuckles turned white. "Don't say that. Not here."

"Is it true? Was what happened just a mistake to you?" I asked, looking up at him, begging for something real.

Rafael finally looked down at me. His blue eyes were burning with a mixture of desire and absolute frustration. He reached out, his hand hovering just an inch away from my cheek. He wanted to touch me so badly I could see it in his eyes.

"It—,"

Before his hand could make contact with my skin, the sound of wheels clicking against the hardwood floor cut through the noise of the room.

Cassian appeared from around the corner of the long table.

Rafael instantly dropped his hand and stepped back, his face instantly turning back into a polite, empty slate.

"Rafael," Cassian said, his voice entirely smooth, yet dangerous. "Judge Alvarez was looking for you. He wants to discuss the new waste management contracts in Brooklyn."

"Of course, Cassian. I'll go talk to him right now," Rafael said. He gave me a quick, formal nod and walked away, disappearing into the crowd of suits.

Cassian rolled closer to me. He looked at the water glass in my hand, then up at my face.

"Are you enjoying the evening, Belinda?" he asked.

"It's fine," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Good," Cassian said. "Because your father called today. Your brothers answered for him, of course. They seemed very interested to know if you were fulfilling your duties here. I told them you were doing exceptionally well."

A chill ran down my spine. "You spoke to Adrian?"

"Briefly," Cassian said, a tiny, humorless smile touching his lips. "He wanted to ensure you weren't causing me any trouble. I assured him that everything in this house is under my control.”

He paused, letting the words hang in the air between us.

I heard the implied tone loud and clear. He knew something had happened, or he suspected it enough to put me in a cage and watch how I reacted.

I was caught in a web, trapped between a husband who ruled through fear and silence, and a brother who was too afraid of the consequences to save me.

Every single move I made was being watched, recorded, and weighed against me.

```

Later that night, long after the guests had left and the house had grown dark and silent, I couldn't sleep. The green silk dress felt like a straitjacket, so I had changed into a simple cotton robe. I paced around my bedroom, feeling the walls closing in on me.

I decided to slip out into the small inner courtyard, the only place I was technically allowed to go. The night air was cool, but it didn't remove the feeling of being suffocated.

As I walked back inside through the side entrance, I passed the corridor leading to Cassian’s private study. The door was cracked open slightly, a thin sliver of yellow light spilling out onto the dark floorboards.

I stopped. My breath hitched in my throat.

Moving silently, I crept closer to the door and peered through the crack.

Cassian was sitting at his desk, the desk lamp casting long shadows across his face. He wasn't working on financial ledgers or shipping manifests. He was holding a stack of glossy photographs and paper documents.

I squinted, trying to see what they were.

On the top of the pile was a surveillance report. I couldn't read all the words from this distance, but I could clearly see my own name typed in bold text at the top of the page. Right beneath it was Rafael’s name.

Cassian stared at the report, his expression completely blank, completely unreadable. He turned a page, revealing a detailed timeline of events from the past month.

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.

What was he doing?