Trapped with My Billionaire Ex-Husband by Mariya Mercedes

Chapter 89

Chapter 89

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

said, his voice wavering with uncertainty.

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

time to uncover the truth, no matter the

to the chair, I

and apprehension. This

nt of truth.

demanded, my

slowly regained consciousness. His eyes fluttered open,

of confusion before recognition dawned in his gaze.

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Emergency calls only

Chapter 89

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stammered, his voice hoarse with disbelief. “Y–You’re alive!” He announced it in glee, making me

and why

asked in confusion. “It’s me, Sebastian,” he

know you, and my name isn’t

I might not know what happened to you, but I’m positive. I can’t be

with a sense of urgency and conviction. Despite my protests and insistence that he had the wrong person, he remained steadfast

was a nagging feeling in the back of my mind, a whisper of doubt that I

my thoughts. “I’m sorry, but you must be mistaken,” I said firmly, though uncertainty laced

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

I couldn’t shake. Could it be possible that I was in danger, even if I didn’t remember who

answers, and I needed them fast. But

staring back at me. It was as if we were both lost in a

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