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

insisted, my grip tightening on the baseball bat in my hand. With a shared nod of

was time to uncover the truth,

the man to the chair, I stepped back, my

This was it–the

nt of truth.

want with me?” I demanded, my voice trembling slightly

he slowly regained consciousness. His eyes fluttered open, and for a

was a flicker of confusion before recognition

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Emergency calls only

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hoarse with disbelief. “Y–You’re alive!” He announced it in glee,

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

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

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

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

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

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,

you must be mistaken,” I said firmly, though uncertainty laced my words. “I

you don’t remember,” he said softly. “But please, you have to

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

that I needed answers, and I needed them fast. But as I looked

we were both lost in a maze of secrets and lies, desperate to find our way out but

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