Trapped with My Billionaire Ex-Husband by Mariya Mercedes

Chapter 45
BLAIRE
The next day, I wake up early to prepare for the day ahead. The sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the
elegant suite. As I stand by the window, sipping on a cup of coffee, the city below begins to stir with the rhythm of a new day.
Isabelle’s words from the previous night echo in my mind: “Tomorrow is a big day.” Determined and energized, I get ready,
choosing an outfit that strikes a balance between professionalism and confidence.
As I make my way to the hotel lobby, Isabelle appears, her signature enthusiasm undiminished. “Good morning, Blaire! Ready
for the big day?”
“Absolutely,” I reply, returning her smile. “What’s first on our to-do list?”
“Well, head over to the kitchen. Let’s see if you have everything you need for the cake samples that you’re going to bake today,
Isabelle answers, leading the way with an air of excitement.
In the hotel’s spa cious kitchen, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the hum of culinary activity. Isabelle gestures
toward a well-stocked counter. “Here are the ingredients we’ve prepared for you. Take your time, Blaire. We’re eager to taste
your
creations.”
–
As I inspect the array of ingredients, a wave of inspiration washes over me. The kitchen, though unfamiliar, becomes a canvas
for my creativity. I set to work, measuring, mixing, and infusing each element with a touch of artistry.
Isabelle watches with keen interest. “Not to put pressure on you, but the boss is going to visit the hotel later this afternoon. He
requested to present all your output in his office. later. Isabelle interjects as I finish with my second dessert.
The news adds a layer of anticipation to the already charged atmosphere of the kitchen. I nod, acknowledging the challenge
ahead. “I appreciate the heads-up, Isabelle. I’ll make sure everything is ready for the presentation.”
As the clock ticks, I meticulously arrange the desserts on a sleek tray, ensuring each creation is a testament to both skill and
artistry. Isabelle offers a reassuring smile. “You’ve got this, Blaire. The team is impressed, and I’m sure the boss will be too.”

Though Isabelle has been nothing but supportive and encouraging, there’s still something lingering inside me that I can’t name.
Despite the outward appearance of confidence, a subtle unease tugs at my thoughts. It’s as if an ominous shadow is cast over
the impending presentation.
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Chapter 45
The journey to the boss’s office feels both swift and prolonged. With each step, the tray in my hands carries not only desserts but
also the weight of anticipation and the fear of an unknown outcome. Isabelle senses my unease, offering a gentle squeeze on

my shoulder.
“Relax, Blaire. You’re about to impress the boss. Trust in your talent,” she whispers, her words attempting to quell the rising
nerves.
Upon entering the boss’s office, my heart started racing as my eyes caught a glint of a familiar figure standing beside the glass
wall. Despite not seeing his face, his silhouette is too familiar for me to ignore. It’s him. The same man that I was praying I
wouldn’t have to meet again. Sebastian is my ex-husband.
“Blaire, I would like to introduce to you the owner and president of Solara Hotel and Casino, Mr. Sebastian Foster,” Isabelle
introduces us.
Despite my shock upon learning that Despite my shock upon learning that Sebastian is the one who owns this hotel, I manage to
act as if we’re strangers. “Nice to finally meet you, Mister Foster,” I say, maintaining a polite facade.
Isabelle then turns to Sebastian once again. “Mr. Foster, Blaire is here to present to you her sample desserts for your approval.
We need your input before we proceed with the preparation for the grand opening, Isabelle says, unaware of the history that
lingers. between Sebastian and me.
Sebastian nods, his expression remaining composed. “Of course, Isabelle. I’m looking forward to seeing what Blaire has
prepared.”
As I present the desserts, I focus on the task at hand, doing my best to block out the memories that threaten to resurface.
Sebastian’s expression remains stoic. I couldn’t read what was going on inside his head. Did he plan this all along? Did he

deliberately ask Isabelle to approach me? If yes, what could be his reason for doing so? The unanswered questions linger in the
air, adding another layer of complexity to the already charged atmosphere.
I was in the middle of my deep thought when Sebastian’s deep and baritone voice pulled me out of my reverie. “Presentation-
wise, it’s nice. But taste doesn’t impress me,” Sebastian said.
Even Isabelle was surprised upon hearing his comment. I’m not sure whether he really didn’t like my desserts or if he’s just
deliberately doing that to sabotage me. If it was the latter, does that mean our being here together was purely a coincidence?
“B-Boss, why don’t we take a break and have some tea to cleanse your palate? I’m sure you haven’t tasted it properly,” Isabelle
suggests.
“That won’t be necessary. I want her to do everything again from scratch. But this time,
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I don’t want any errors. I’m not going to serve trash to my clients,” he says coldly.
His words cut through the air like a sharp blade, and I’m left speechless, grappling with the unexpected turn of events. Is this a
genuine critique of my desserts, or is there a deeper motive behind his harsh demand!
As Isabelle tries to diffuse the tension, suggesting ways to address his concerns, Sebastian remains firm in his decision. The
atmosphere in the lobby grows heavier, and I feel the weight of his scrutiny, magnifying the pressure of the situation.
With a sense of determination, I nodded in response. Tll redo the desserts, Mr. Foster. I want to ensure they meet your

standards.
He simply nods, his expression unyielding. The challenge is clear. I don’t care whether he’s doing this to punish me or if he just
has different standards. But I won’t back down without a fight. I know I can do it, despite the circumstances.
With a sense of determination. I nodded in response. “I’ll redo the desserts, Mr. Foster. I want to ensure they meet your
standards.”
He simply nods, his expression unyielding. The challenge is clear. I don’t care whether he’s doing this to punish me or if he just
has different standards. But I won’t back down without a fight. I know I can do it, despite the circumstances.
Returning to the kitchen, the weight of the task ahead fuels my focus. Each measured ingredient and every precise step

becomes a testament to resilience and the unwavering passion for my craft. The city outside, a constant witness to the ebb and
flow of challenges, seems to echo the rhythm of my determined efforts.
As the aroma of baking desserts fills the kitchen once more, I reflect on the unexpected twist of fate that brought Sebastian back
into my life. Whether it’s a test of culinary prowess or a veiled attempt at revisiting our shared history, I am determined to rise
above the challenge.
The desserts take shape, each one an embodiment of skill, creativity, and an unwavering commitment to excellence. In the
quietude of the kitchen, I find solace in the precision of my movements and the artistry that transforms simple ingredients into
culinary masterpieces.
As I delve into the meticulous process of recreating the desserts, Isabelle approaches, concern etched on her face. “Blaire, are
you alright? This is quite unusual, even for Mr. Foster.”
I take a deep breath, setting aside the swirling emotions. “I’ll be fine, Isabelle. Let’s focus on perfecting these desserts. I won’t let
this setback define our success.”
Isabelle offers a supportive smile. “You’re resilient, Blaire. I believe in your abilities. Just
Chapter 45
let me know if you need anything”
As the desserts are presented once again to Sebastian, a subtle shift in the air suggests a tension that transcends the realm of
pastry. His gaze remains critical, but this time, I meet it with unwavering confidence. The past may cast shadows, but in this
moment, I choose to let the brilliance of my desserts speak louder than the unspoken complexities that linger between us.
As I present the refined creations to Mr. Foster, the tension in the room is palpable. His scrutinizing gaze lingers on each detail,
and for a moment, the weight of judgment hangs in the air.
He tasted cach one of the desserts before sitting back in his swivel chair. “Do it again.” he said as he crossed his fingers, leaning
against his table.
“S-Sir Isabelle asked in surprise upon hearing that. “B-But–
Isabelle, could you please give Mr. Foster and me a minute?” I asked Isabelle..
Though confusion was etched all over her face, she didn’t bother asking. Instead, she left the room without questions asked.
Once we’re alone, I finally let out the anger that Ive been holding back since
we met.
What fck is wrong will you? I yelled at him.
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