UNFATHOMABLE

The Billionaire's Secret Triplets: Mom's Revenge

HONEY MULLINS

Six years ago, I was a naive girl sold by my father to the powerful Sanders estate, only to be tossed onto the streets after a brutal assault they labeled "marital infidelity." I fled the country pregnant and broken, hiding from the shadow of a husband I had never even met. Now, I’ve returned to New York with my triplets to sign the final divorce papers and disappear forever. But Archibald Sanders—the man I was told was a crippled recluse—intercepted us with the cold precision of a predator. He didn't see the woman his family destroyed; he saw a gold-digger who had shamed his name. His security team hunted us to a grimy motel, using tactical force to snatch my children away and drag me to his glass-walled empire. In his office, he loomed over me, demanding a DNA test and threatening to throw me in prison while my babies were lost to the foster system. He was convinced I’d cheated, yet he stared at my sons with a haunting confusion, unable to ignore the stormy blue eyes that were a perfect mirror of his own. I stood there, paralyzed by his scent—the sharp tang of rain and expensive leather that triggered the icy dread of my worst nightmares. How could he accuse me of betrayal when he felt exactly like the monster who had shattered my life in that dark hotel room? "I'll sign anything," I sobbed, "just give me my kids." But the game changed when my five-year-old son hacked the tower’s security, holding the skyscraper hostage to save me. In the chaos, a fragile, silent boy—Archibald’s secret son—wandered into the room and reached for me as if I were his missing soul. Archibald’s face turned to stone as he tore up the agreement and locked the doors. "Until I find out why my son is looking at you like that," he growled, "you aren't going anywhere."

Modern Mystery Revenge

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It was Linda Ye's wedding night.

She was sitting shyly on the big bed in the SN Mansion, the mansion of the Bo family, clenching her hands. She had just taken a shower, and was wearing only an expensive silk nightdress. It was obvious from her demeanor that she was extremely nervous.

The man she had married was Cecil Bo, whom she had secretly loved for ten years.

He was the famous business mogul who headed the Bo Group.

Right now, their wedding ceremony was the talk of the town in Los City.

Linda was the only one who knew that it was not as beautiful and perfect as it seemed to be.

The truth was, she was not the woman that Cecil wanted; she was just a substitute for the original bride. While pretending to be someone else, she had exchanged wedding rings with him on the altar, as witnessed by countless celebrities.

Of course, she had been more than willing to do it.

At this moment, footsteps could be heard from the hallway, seemingly advancing towards the bedroom. When Linda heard the sound, she clenched her fists more tightly, digging her nails into her palms. She was so anxious that she didn't even feel the pain.

Her husband appeared at the door.

He staggered towards her unsteadily, as if he had drunk too much.

As he approached her, the smell of alcohol mixed with his scent overflowed her nose, awakening her senses.

Linda held her breath in anticipation of what was about to come.

With a goofy smile at the corners of his mouth, Cecil raised her chin with his long finger and said, "Leona, we're married."

Leona Ye was Linda's younger twin sister.

She had run away from home three days ago, leaving only a note in her bedroom that read, "Dad, Mom, I'm sorry! I can't marry Cecil."

Needless to say, their parents hadn't expected her to make such a fuss just three days before her wedding. Not knowing what to do or who to turn to, they were on pins and needles. Moreover, angering the Bo family was the last thing that they wanted to do. Afraid that the Bo family would get wind of the news, the Ye family had sent people to look for Leona in secret.

At this critical moment, Linda had stepped up and volunteered to marry Cecil on behalf of Leona to deal with this situation quietly.

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