Falling For My Ex-husband's Trillionaire Brother

Skylar

He was a Blackwood?...

And yet something about this particular Blackwood felt different. Colder. Heavier. More dangerous.

He turned his attention back to me, his deep voice breaking the heavy silence once more.

“Rest.”

It wasn’t a suggestion.

It was a decision he had already made for me.

My brows pulled together as I stared at him, confusion swirling in my chest.

“Don’t try leaving,” he added flatly.

Just like that.

No explanation. No reassurance. He simply turned and walked out, the door shutting behind him with a soft, final click that echoed in the large room.

I was left alone again, the silence pressing down on me.

A Blackwood…?

The thought kept circling in my mind. I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening against the sheets until my knuckles turned white. That couldn’t be right. Could it? Maybe there was another branch of the family. Maybe this was all some terrible coincidence.

But the way he carried himself, that quiet, absolute authority felt far too familiar in the worst possible way.

My heart started racing again. There was no way I could stay here. Not with a Blackwood. Not after everything his name had already taken from me.

God… I damaged his car.

My hand ran through my tangled hair as frustration and panic built in my chest. And Alex… had betrayed me. And thinking about the baby I lost only made the emptiness inside me hurt worse.

My jaw clenched tightly.

The soft click of the door pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts.

This time, it wasn’t him.

A woman stepped in, dressed neatly in a crisp maid’s uniform. She moved quietly, her expression polite but carefully neutral.

“Are you feeling better, miss?” she asked gently. “Should I get you something to eat?”

“Food?” I echoed, my voice sounding distant even to my own ears.

“Yes, miss,” she added, offering a small smile. “The master instructed that we should provide you with anything you need.”

The master.

My brows furrowed again. I glanced around the luxurious room. This place wasn’t a sanctuary, it was a cage wrapped in silk and wood.

I looked back at her, my voice coming out uncertain and shaky.

“C-can you help me leave?”

The woman hesitated for a second, then shook her head slightly, almost regretfully.

“I’m sorry, miss. The master instructed us not to let you leave.”

A humourless, broken laugh left my lips. “So… I’m a prisoner now?”

She didn’t flinch or react strongly. She simply gave a small, polite nod.

“If you need anything, you can ring the bell,” she said, gesturing lightly toward a small button on the bedside table. “I’ll come right away.”

And just like that, she turned and left, the door closing softly behind her once again.

Silence returned, heavier than before.

I sat there for what felt like a long time, trying to process everything that had happened. The room alone was bigger than any place I had ever lived in. This wasn’t just a house. It was a cold, beautiful, and suffocating mansion.

Deep down, I knew I wasn’t simply going to walk out of here.

Time passed. Minutes blurred into what might have been hours. I had no way of knowing.

Then the door opened again.

I looked up instantly, my body tensing.

It was him.

My chest tightened at the sight.

“P-please,” I said quickly, before I could second-guess myself. “I really need to leave now.”

He didn’t respond immediately. He just stood there, watching me with that same calm, unreadable expression.

Then he spoke.

“You almost destroyed my car.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“It… was an accident,” I said quickly, my voice weaker than I wanted.

His gaze didn’t leave my face. “Accidents still have consequences.”

“Look… sir, I’m really sorry about your car, but I really need to leave…”

My voice trailed off. I swallowed hard, struggling to form the rest of my thoughts. Something about the way he was looking at me made it difficult to think straight. His gaze was intense, not angry nor soft, just piercing and unreadable. Like he could see straight through me.

He stepped closer. Just one step. But it was enough to make my pulse spike sharply.

“You have two choices,” he said.

My throat went dry instantly.

“Pay twenty-five thousand dollars for the damage.”

My eyes widened, panic rushing through me all over again.

“B-but… I don’t have that kind of money,” I breathed, my voice cracking.

He didn’t react. No surprise. No sympathy. He simply watched me, as if my panic was irrelevant.

“Or…” he continued, his tone sharpening just slightly, “you work it off under my terms.”

My fingers tightened against the bedsheet until the fabric bunched painfully in my fists.

“Your terms?” I repeated, barely able to keep my voice steady.

“Yes,” he said simply. “My schedule. My rules. My conditions.”

My brows furrowed in confusion, my head still throbbing from everything I’d been through. “What does that even mean?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped even closer, close enough that I could feel the shift in the air between us.

My breath hitched.

He leaned down slightly, placing one hand on the bed beside me, caging me in just enough to make my heart pound wildly against my ribs.

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. Not enough to soften him. Somehow, it only made him more unsettling.

“You walked into my world, Skylar. You just don’t realize it yet.”

My eyes widened instantly. Panic flared in my chest.

“Who are you?” My voice came out sharply. “And how do you know my name?”

He paused.

Then let out the faintest hint of dark amusement.

“Are you some kind of stalker?”

“Stalker?” he repeated, raising one brow. “That’s child’s play.”

He turned slightly, walking over to the small drawer beside the bed with calmness. He poured himself a glass of water as if we weren’t in the middle of the most unsettling conversation of my life.

“I have my sources,” he added simply, offering no further explanation.

Then he turned back toward me and held the glass out.

“Take it,” he said, his voice leaving no room for refusal.

I didn’t move at first. My heart was still racing too fast, my thoughts scattered in every direction.

He stepped a little closer, extending the glass toward me.

“Your voice is hoarse. Drink.”

With unsteady hands, I finally reached out and took the glass.

I lifted it to my lips and took a small sip. The water was cool and refreshing, but it did nothing to soothe the storm raging inside me.

After a few more sips, I lowered the glass, still gripping it tightly.

I could feel his eyes on me the entire time.

Then he spoke again, his voice low and decisive.

“You’ll play a role.”

I froze. My brows pulled together as I looked up at him in confusion.

“A role…?”

My voice came out barely above a whisper.

His gaze stayed fixed on mine.

“And you don’t have the luxury of refusing.”

My stomach dropped.