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48 — TRAPPED WITH THE BEAST
Huling Na-update:
2025-07-18 23:59:26
Pinakabagong kabanata
Dear Ex-husband, My Stepbrother is Your Replacement. 52 — YOU WANT A BATTLE? LET’S BATTLE…
SILVANI fight so hard to hold on to my anger, but when Astrid’s eyes shimmer with unshed tears, something breaks inside of me. I’m not sure what it is, but I feel something crack.She pulls away and I’m forced to lean back, forced to look away from her lush, trembling lips before I do something stupid — like pull her into my arms and kiss her distress away. Her cheeks redden and she swipes at her wet cheeks, her eyes hardening with the stubbornness I’ve grown accustomed to. I was gutted when I heard her reason for hiding the twins. I was tempted to tell her the truth about the situation between me and Leilani, that Leilani’s child wasn’t mine, but the selfish half of me held back.Astrid took my children away without hearing from me first. She doesn’t deserve a fucking explanation. I get to my feet and stroll to my desk, my jaw ticking with annoyance. When I return with the agreement I had my lawyer draw up at the last minute, she’s still seated on the floor, but the pitiable lo
Dear Ex-husband, My Stepbrother is Your Replacement. 51 — THE WHOLE DAMN PACKAGE…
ASTRIDBefore I got on that plane, I knew that somehow, my trip to New York would be disastrous.But even then, I did not anticipate that things would go so wrong. With a pounding heart, I rip my gaze from Silvan’s dark stare and examine the room once again.There are pictures of Zoey and Zara everywhere. Personal pictures that have been enlarged into life-sized portraits.There’s a picture of them during their kindergarten graduation. One of them during their first and second birthdays. Selfies that we took in the car on our way to school. Pictures from our recent trip to Disney World. And so many others.Almost all of our private moments are littered on Silvan’s walls like trophies.I feel cold. A chill sweeps over my skin, penetrating my bones and stiffening my spine.My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth. My head is all over the place, paralyzed by shock. For the life of me, I cannot seem to come up with one understandable sentence.Silvan leaves his perch by the door and st
Dear Ex-husband, My Stepbrother is Your Replacement. 50 — DELICIOUS BURGERS…
ASTRIDLocked. Everywhere is locked.I run across Silvan’s luxurious tower, going from door to door like a deranged woman. Apparently, the doors are automatically operated with biometric access only. There are no handles. Just a smooth, black surface probably made of uranium.The signal on my phone has not returned either. I’m on the verge of losing my goddamn mind.I stomp back to the kitchen, my blood boiling with rage. When I arrive, the space is empty. There’s no Silvan.A second later, I hear a whoosh behind me and turn around to find him emerging from…is that a cupboard?“Where’d you go?” I huff, exasperated.“The walk-in refrigerator.” He answers shortly.I look up at the ceiling and count to ten. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll get my anger under control and won’t go around bashing every single one of his fancy kitchen appliances.“You knew the doors were locked.”He shrugs, setting out ingredients for a hamburger. My favourite. I ignore that little piece of information. “You heard
Dear Ex-husband, My Stepbrother is Your Replacement. 49 — STAB ME, ANGEL…
ASTRID I hold the scissors against Silvan’s throat, my heart pulsing with tension. “Go on, princess.” He growls, pressing his throat against the blade. “Show me how courageous you’ve become. Stab me.” His eyes glitter with a darkness that triggers my anger. Silvan is testing me. He’s fucking pushing me. Defiance surges in my chest and I press the weapon harder against his throat, freezing when the unexpected happens. Tiny beads of blood materialize on his neck, spilling down his throat and over his torso in a crimson trail. My eyes widen in horror and my lips part, a gasp of terror slipping free. I release the scissors and it clatters to the floor with a loud thud. A barely visible wound mars the perfection of his smooth neck. Blood drips through it as the seconds tick by, soaking into the waistband of his shorts. “Silvan…” I whisper, my heart tightening into tiny knots. Why isn’t he saying anything?! His eyes are dark as he quietly appraises me. He doesn’t rush to attend t
Dear Ex-husband, My Stepbrother is Your Replacement. 48 — TRAPPED WITH THE BEAST
ASTRID “Lock the entrance doors…” Silvan’s voice is soft, deadly… like a patient predator waiting to strike. “At once, sir.” I watch helplessly, my stomach tightening with unease as Michael walks out of the room. Within seconds, the doors slide shut behind him and an automatic voice pierces the air; “Activating temporary shutdown in 5…4…3…2…1…” Deep within the bowels of the building, a low hiss accompanies the shut down. It’s official. Silvan has successfully trapped me inside his tower. The air suddenly feels too tight. The AC hits my skin like sharp pebbles. I never envisioned that a day would come when I’d be forced to share a room with the same man I swore to stay away from. I’m pretty sure fate is seated pretty in a dark corner, laughing at me right now. I am tempted to stamp my feet and scream like a banshee to get my way. Instead, I take the mature route, draw several deep breaths and lift my chin, staring him down. “I’m not sure what you hope to ac
Dear Ex-husband, My Stepbrother is Your Replacement. 47 — LOCK THE DOORS BEHIND YOU…
ASTRIDSilvan takes a step forward, his expression thunderous. I stand my ground, my fists clenched at my sides as I hold his gaze.“Your tongue is still as sharp as ever, I see.” His voice is a throaty rasp that has my thighs clenching involuntarily. Standing close like this, I catch a whiff of his scent. He smells like salt, sin and man. A dangerous combination that teases my senses to the brink of insanity. “Why are you here, Mr. Rourke?” I ask, trying my best to sound firm. “Last I checked, this house is supposed to belong to my father’s long time business partner. I’m not here to see you and I don’t have time for this.”His eyes remain impassive, burning with an emotion I cannot name. Even after three years of priding myself with the ability to read people, I cannot for the life of me figure out what he’s thinking. He’s silent and still. As still as a statue.His gaze consumes me, roving over my body from to toe, sparking illicit memories that I’d rather keep locked up.His
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