Trapped with My Billionaire Ex-Husband

Six months ago…

I slowly opened my eyes, and I was immediately welcomed by an unfamiliar ceiling. I winced in when I felt a throbbing pain in my head. I touched my head and noticed a bandage around my forehead.

I looked around the room that I was in. But nothing about it makes sense.

As I looked around the room, I couldn’t help but admire its fancy décor. The furniture was all elegant, and there were pretty lights shining from the chandeliers. It was all very posh, but it’s something that doesn’t resonate with me. I don’t feel any familiarity around this place.

But even with all the fancy stuff, I felt out of place. The room seemed too big, and the walls felt like they were closing in on me. It was like I’d walked into a whole different world.

I took a careful step forward, the sound of my footsteps echoing on the shiny floor. The room was so quiet, except for the sound of my own movements.

As I looked around more, I felt even more confused. The room seemed to keep changing, like it was playing tricks on me.

With each passing moment, I felt more uneasy. It was like I was lost in a maze with no way out. I opened the door, yet still, the place doesn’t make any sense to me at all. I tried to remember where I was, but the more I tried, the greater the confusion that engulfed my whole body.

As the searing pain shot through my head, I couldn’t help but let out a loud curse. “Damn it!”

“Hey, take it easy. Don’t move around too much,” a voice said from nearby.

I looked up to see a man I didn’t recognize. He seemed to be trying to help me, guiding me back toward the room I had come from.

Who was he? And why couldn’t I remember him? I racked my brain, trying to recall his name, but it was like trying to grasp at smoke. And then it hit me like a cold shower–I couldn’t remember who I was, either.

Panic welled up inside me as I struggled to make sense of what was happening. How could I not remember anything about myself? And why was I in this strange place with a man I didn’t know?

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“Sit down here; I’ll get your medicine,” he said, leading me to the edge of a vast bed with a reassuring smile.

“Uh, excuse me,” I stammered, feeling disoriented. He turned back to me, his expression expectant as he waited for me to speak. “Where am I? And I didn’t mean to be rude, but who are you?”

His features softened, and he approached me with a gentle smile, his eyes filled with warmth.

“We got into an accident while sailing. You were out for a few days,” he explained, his tone gentle but matter–of-

fact.

I tried to process his words, but my mind felt foggy, memories slipping through my grasp like sand through fingers. Frowning, I attempted to recall the events leading up to the accident, but all I could summon was a

sharp, throbbing pain pulsing through my head.

He handed me a small pill and a glass of water. “Here, take this. It’ll help with the pain,” he offered, concern

evident in his eyes as he watched me closely.

I nodded gratefully, swallowing the pill with a gulp of water. As I did, a wave of dizziness washed over me, leaving me feeling disoriented and off balance.

“Thank you,” I murmured, handing back the empty glass. “I’m sorry, but I still don’t remember much. Can you

tell me where we are?”

He nodded understandingly. “Don’t worry. It’s okay. The doctor says you might have experienced memory lapses due to a concussion. We’re at my family’s estate on the outskirts of town. It’s a quiet place, perfect for

recuperating.”

His words only served to deepen my confusion. How did I end up here? And who was this man standing before me, tending to my needs with such care and concern?

“Can you tell me your name?” I asked tentatively, hoping for some shred of familiarity to cling to amidst the chaos of my fragmented memories.

As Grant introduced himself as my husband, I couldn’t help but feel a wave of confusion wash over me. His words seemed to echo in the empty recesses of my mind, but they failed to stir any sense of recognition within me. His name, Grant, held no significance to me, leaving me feeling adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, my voice tinged with frustration. “I don’t remember you.”

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Grant’s expression faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features before he quickly masked it with a forced smile. “It’s okay,” he said softly, though the strain in his voice was palpable. “You’ve been through a lot. It’s only natural that your memory would be a bit foggy.”

But what he said didn’t make me feel any better. If Grant really was my husband, why didn’t I feel close to him? Why didn’t being with him give me that warm feeling of being with someone I love?

As I thought about these things, I felt more and more alone. It was like I was stuck in a bad dream, with people around me who I didn’t really know.

Even though I was confused, one thing was certain: I couldn’t trust my own memories. They were like pieces of a broken mirror, showing me only parts of what happened and making it harder for me to understand what was real.

With a heavy heart, I turned to Grant, the man who claimed to be my husband, and forced a smile of my own. “Thank you for being here,” I said softly, though the words felt hollow and insincere. “I just hope that with time, my memories will return, and I can truly be the wife you deserve.”

Grant nodded, his expression a mix of concern and understanding. “I understand, my dear,” he replied, his voice gentle and reassuring. “We’ll get through this together. And no matter what happens, I’ll be by your side every step of the way.”

Despite his words of comfort, I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at the edges of my

consciousness. There was something about Grant’s presence that felt off, like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit into the picture of my life.

But for now, I pushed aside my doubts.

Through the course of the week, I discovered that my name was Dylan. Though I still don’t recognize the sound of my own name, I tried to be optimistic.

Days turned into weeks as I tried to piece together the fragments of my shattered memory. But the more I searched, the more elusive the truth seemed to become. Memories slipped through my fingers like grains of

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sand, leaving me grasping at shadows in the darkness.

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Night after night, I couldn’t sleep as strange dreams haunted my mind. In the darkness, a voice called out, sending shivers down my spine. It spoke a name I didn’t know, leaving me uneasy long after I woke up.

Lying in bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about the mysterious figure in my dreams. The voice echoed in my head, stirring up memories I couldn’t quite grasp.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember where I heard that voice before. It felt like it came from another

world, beyond my fractured memory.

Was it a memory from my past, or was it just my mind playing tricks on me? I couldn’t be sure, but I knew one thing: I needed to find out the truth. Until I did, I wouldn’t be able to find peace.

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Grant was more than kind enough to stay in another room. Despite him introducing himself as my husband, he’s nothing but a stranger to me without my memory. Although I felt guilty, I don’t think it’s fair if we shared the same room while I don’t remember anything.

As the days stretched on, I began to feel a growing sense of frustration and despair. It was as if I were trapped in a maze with no way out, stumbling blindly through the corridors of my own mind in search of an exit that seemed to recede further with each passing moment.

Today, I decided to go outside and walk around the area, hoping it could juggle some of my memories.

But as I approached the door, I saw Grant talking to a woman I can hardly remember. They seemed comfortable together, but something about it made me uneasy.

The woman noticed me and looked surprised, like she recognized me. I couldn’t place her face or name, which left me feeling confused. Was she a friend or someone from my past?

I stayed by the door, watching them talk, feeling unsure about the situation. It felt like there was something hidden beneath the surface, waiting to be discovered.

Their conversation seemed to taper off quickly once they noticed me, as if they were trying to avoid being caught in the act. It left me with a sense of unease, like there was something they didn’t want me to know.

The woman hurriedly left, leaving me standing there with more questions than answers. I turned to Grant for an explanation. “Who was that?” I asked curiously.

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“Just a friend,” he replied tersely, his expression guarded. His response was cryptic and evasive.

Confusion knotted my stomach as I tried to make sense of his words. Something didn’t feel right about the situation, but before I could voice my concerns, Grant was already ushering me back inside.

“Pack your bag. We need to leave,” he instructed, his tone urgent. Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

The urgency in his voice only served to heighten my sense of unease. “What’s going on?” I pressed, desperation, creeping into my voice.

But Grant remained tight–lipped, his expression unreadable, as he prepared for our sudden departure.

“Grant, talk to me. What’s happening?” I insisted.

“Shut up, and pack your bag!”

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Grant’s sudden outburst caught me off guard, sending a jolt of fear coursing through me. His words were like a slap in the face, cutting through the air with an intensity that left me reeling.

I stood there, frozen in place, as the weight of his anger bore down on me. Never before had he raised his voice at me in such a manner, and I found myself at a loss for how to respond.

Trembling, I took a tentative step backward, my eyes wide with shock and confusion. “Grant, please,” I pleaded, my voice trembling with uncertainty. “I don’t understand. Why are you shouting?”

But Grant’s expression remained stony and impassive, his features hardened by a resolve that sent shivers down my spine. “There’s no time for questions,” he snapped, his voice clipped and cold. “Just do as I say and pack your bag. We need to leave now.”

His words lingered in the room, making everything feel heavy and dark. I couldn’t understand why he was so upset all of a sudden. And why did he want us to leave right away?

Feeling uneasy, I started packing my things as he commanded. But inside, my mind was racing with worry. Why was this happening? What had I missed? And what does that woman have to do with all of these?

With little time to spare, I hastily gathered a few essentials as Grant hurried me out of the house. His urgency was palpable as he practically dragged me towards a small boat docked just behind our temporary residence.

Without a moment’s hesitation, we embarked, the engine roaring to life as we set sail. The destination remained

Dreame

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a mystery to me, adding to the sense of unease that had settled in the pit of my stomach.

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As we sailed along, I glanced towards the horizon and saw several boats heading towards the island we’d just left. It made me uneasy, wondering why they were coming and if it had anything to do with us leaving so suddenly.

I looked over at Grant, but he seemed lost in his own thoughts, his gaze fixed on the ocean ahead. Despite the questions swirling in my mind, I decided to remain silent.

As the island gradually faded from view, I tried to reassure myself that the approaching boats had nothing to do with us.