Trapped with My Billionaire Ex-Husband

BLAIRE

“Dylan, are you sure about this? This is assault! We could end up in jail,” Steve protested, his voice

tinged with concern as we struggled to move the unconscious man.

“I need answers, Steve. And I can’t afford to wait around for them,” I replied, my tone firm as I focused

on the task at hand. Time was of the essence; I had only a few precious hours before Grant realized I was

missing. Thankfully, my usual excuse of tending to the garden workshop provided the perfect alibi.

When I’m in there, Grand usually won’t disturb me for a few hours, giving me enough time to execute

my plan.

With a sense of urgency driving us forward, we managed to haul the unconscious man into the

makeshift interrogation room I had prepared. The room sparse, dimly lit by a single overhead bulb makeshift interrogation room I had prepared. The room

that cast long shadows across the walls.

W2 ?

“We need to wake him up,” I muttered, my gaze fixed on the man before us. “I need to know what he

knows.”

Steve hesitated, his eyes darting nervously between me and the unconscious man. “Dylan, I don’t know

about this,” he said, his voice wavering with uncertainty.

I shot him a steely glance. “We’ve come this far, Steve. We can’t turn back now,” I insisted, my grip tightening on the baseball bat in my hand. With a shared nod of understanding, we prepared ourselves

for what lay ahead. It was time to uncover the truth, no matter the cost.

Once we had secured the man to the chair, I stepped back, my heart racing with a mixture of

anticipation and apprehension. This was it–the

nt of truth.

“Who are you, and what do you want with me?” I demanded, my voice trembling slightly despite my best efforts to sound composed.

The man stirred, groaning softly as he slowly regained consciousness. His eyes fluttered open, and for a

moment, there was a flicker of confusion before recognition dawned in his gaze.

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“B–Blaire?” He stammered, his voice hoarse with disbelief. “Y–You’re alive!” He announced it in glee, making me more confused about what’s going on.

I ignored his remarks, pressing him for answers. “Who are you, and why were you looking for me? Do I know you?”

“You don’t recognize me?” He asked in confusion. “It’s me, Sebastian,” he introduced himself.

“I don’t know you, and my name isn’t Blaire. My name is Dylan,” I insisted.

“Even if you go by a different name now, I’m certain it’s you, Blaire. I might not know what happened to you, but I’m positive. I can’t be mistaken. You’re Blaire.”

Sebastian’s words hung in the air, heavy with a sense of urgency and conviction. Despite my protests and insistence that he had the wrong person, he remained steadfast in his belief that I was someone named Blaire. Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

But as much as I wanted to dismiss his claims, there was a nagging feeling in the back of my mind, a whisper of doubt that I couldn’t ignore. What if he was right? What if my name wasn’t Dylan after all, but Blaire?

I shook my head, trying to clear away the confusion clouding my thoughts. “I’m sorry, but you must be mistaken,” I said firmly, though uncertainty laced my words. “I don’t know who this Blaire is, but she’s not me.”

Sebastian’s expression fell, a mixture of disappointment and frustration crossing his features. “| understand if you don’t remember,” he said softly. “But please, you have to trust me. Your life could be

in danger.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, igniting a sense of fear that I couldn’t shake. Could it be possible that I was in danger, even if I didn’t remember who I was? And if Sebastian was telling the truth, then who was I really?

I knew that I needed answers, and I needed them fast. But as I looked into Sebastian’s eyes, searching

for some glimmer of truth, all I found was uncertainty staring back at me. It was as if we were both lost in a maze of secrets and lies, desperate to find our way out but unsure of where to turn next,

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“Why would I trust you?” I can’t help but ask. I slowly lowered the baseball bat that I was holding.

“Because I’m your husband,” he said.

I sneered, “You’ve got to be joking. Pardon me if I find it hard to believe. You’re not the first one claiming to be my husband.”

“I don’t know who this other guy is that was claiming to be your husband, but I am the one telling the truth. Believe me, I can show you proof.”

I narrowed my eyes, studying him for any signs of deception. Despite my doubts, a part of me couldn’t shake the feeling that there might be some truth to his words. Reluctantly, I nodded. “Fine, show me.” I turned to Steve and signaled for him to cut him loose.

“Are you sure about this, Dylan? He can be deceiving us. We’re not sure if we can trust him,” Steve said.

He has a point, but what choice do I have? If I need to find the answers that I was looking for, I need to take a risk.

“Do it, Steve,” I ordered him.

He blew a loud sigh before doing what I asked him to. He loosened the rope tied around his body so he. could show me his evidence.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, worn photograph. As he handed it to me, I hesitated before taking it, unsure of what I would find. But when I looked down at the image, my heart skipped a beat.

It was a picture of us, smiling and happy, captured in a moment of pure bliss. The familiarity of our intertwined hands and the warmth in our eyes stirred something deep within me–a flicker of recognition that I couldn’t ignore.

“I don’t understand…” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper, as I struggled to make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling inside me.

He took a step closer, his expression earnest. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but I swear, Blaire, I’ll do whatever it takes to help you remember.”