Trapped with My Billionaire Ex-Husband by Mariya Mercedes

Present day…

I just went to the town proper yesterday to pick up a few supplies. It’s been months since the incident, yet my memories haven’t come back. I’m just glad that Grant has been patient with me throughout the time I don’t remember anything.

Despite him claiming to be my husband, he hasn’t tried anything with me. Though he sometimes makes advances, which I quickly reject, he doesn’t take them against me. I would eventually apologize for rejecting him, and he would tell me that he understood.

No matter how hard I try to be affectionate with Grant, hoping it might jog my memory, I still can’t connect with him emotionally. Despite his insistence that he’s my husband, he feels like a stranger to me.

Moving to this island just six months ago means we don’t have many photos together from here. But beyond his words, there’s no solid evidence supporting his claim. He has a lot of reasons whenever I ask for our pictures, as if he is trying to avoid it. But he was convincing. I have my doubts, but I can’t find any solid reasons to suspect

Grant.

I was engrossed in tending to the garden when I noticed Steve hurrying towards our house, his breath coming in short gasps as he approached. “Is everything all right, Steve? You seem out of breath,” I inquired, curiosity piqued by his urgency.

“Do you happen to know this guy?” he asked, still catching his breath while showing a photo from his phone.

Steve’s question caught me off guard, and I couldn’t suppress the sudden rush of unease that washed over me. I took the phone from him, studying the photo closely. The man in the picture was a stranger to me, yet there was something oddly familiar about him-a nagging sensation that tugged at the edges of my memory.

“I don’t recognize him,” I stammered, struggling to make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling within me. I had no idea who this man was, but there’s something about him that feels familiar. It was as if I already knew him.

Steve regarded me with concern, his brow furrowing in thought. “Well, if you don’t know him, then I’m glad that I didn’t say anything,” he remarked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

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Chapter 87

“What do you mean?” I asked curiously.

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“Well, he has been wondering around town, asking about you,” he answered.

did you know that he was looking

picture of you. Though the woman in the photo that he was holding has long

sent a shiver down my spine, the mention of a stranger holding a photo of me sending alarm bells ringing in my mind. Despite the discrepancies between the woman in

anything else?” I pressed, my curiosity reaching a fever pitch as I sought answers

head, his expression grave. “Not much. But Grant mentioned something about threats to your life, so I thought it best to come and warn you both,” he explained, his

indeed threats looming over me, I needed to

his concern evident in his gaze. “No worries, Dylan. Just take care of yourself and

urgency swept over me like a tidal wave. The man he had mentioned, the one holding a photo

Why did I feel compelled to keep this information from Grant? Was it

me since the accident, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there were hidden truths he had yet to reveal.

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Chapter 87

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myself in this quest for answers. If I wanted to uncover the secrets of my past, I would have to do this treacherous path

my eye, and I spun around to find Grant standing behind me. His presence startled me, as I

You look pale,” he observed, his brow furrowed with concern.

an excuse.

heat from the sun.” I stammered

okay,” he responded, though I could sense a

silent sigh of

that Steve? What was he doing here?” Grant inquired, curiosity evident in his

telling me that there’s a new shipment of supplies that arrived. He’s wondering if I want to check it out when I visit the town,” I improvised,

suspicious gaze. Every fiber of my being screamed with the effort of appearing calm and composed, desperate to conceal the tangled web of

I

presence.

he studied me with such intensity. In that moment, he seemed more like a stranger than the husband he claimed to be. Doubt

my husband, as he insisted? Or was there

something

of his seemingly benign facade? The questions swirled in my mind, each one more troubling than the last, as I

what seemed like an eternity,

swered. ”