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

holding a picture of you. Though the woman in the photo that he was holding has long blonde hair while yours is bob-cut brunette, the woman looks exactly like you,”

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 the picture and myself, the resemblance was uncanny, leaving me with an uneasy feeling that

he say anything else?” I pressed, my curiosity reaching a fever pitch as I

thought it best to come and warn you both,” he explained, his

looming over me, I needed to face them head-on, on my own terms. “Let me talk to him. He’s occupied at the moment. Thank you for telling me, Steve. I

gaze. “No worries, Dylan. Just take care of yourself and Grant,” he replied

with my thoughts, a sense of urgency swept over me like a tidal wave. The man he had mentioned, the one holding a photo of me, seemed to hold the key to unlocking

gnawed at the edges of my consciousness. Why did I feel compelled to keep this information from Grant? Was it simply a desire to handle the situation on my

that there were hidden truths he had yet to reveal. His explanations always seemed

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heavy heart, I realized that I couldn’t trust anyone but myself in this quest for answers. If I wanted to uncover the secrets of

house, a sudden movement caught my eye, and I spun

wrong? You look pale,” he observed, his brow furrowed with concern. I swallowed hard, scrambling

an excuse.

just the heat from the sun.” I stammered

though I could sense a hint of skepticism

a silent sigh of relief when he didn’t

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

a new shipment of supplies that arrived. He’s wondering if I want to check it out when I visit the town,” I improvised, trying to keep my voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in

as Grant scrutinized me with a suspicious gaze. Every fiber of my being screamed with the effort of appearing calm and composed, desperate to conceal the tangled web of lies that threatened to unravel

I

presence.

intensity. In that moment, he seemed more like a stranger than

he insisted? Or was

there something

my mind, each one more troubling than the last, as I struggled to make sense of the

seemed like an eternity, he

swered. ”