Revenge of a twin

Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance

Roderic Penn

I stood at my mother's open grave in the freezing rain, my heels sinking into the mud. The space beside me was empty. My husband, Hilliard Holloway, had promised to cherish me in bad times, but apparently, burying my mother didn't fit into his busy schedule. While the priest's voice droned on, a news alert lit up my phone. It was a livestream of the Metropolitan Charity Gala. There was Hilliard, looking impeccable in a custom tuxedo, with his ex-girlfriend Charla English draped over his arm. The headline read: "Holloway & English: A Power Couple Reunited?" When he finally returned to our penthouse at 2 AM, he didn't come alone-he brought Charla with him. He claimed she'd had a "medical emergency" at the gala and couldn't be left alone. I found a Tiffany diamond necklace on our coffee table meant for her birthday, and a smudge of her signature red lipstick on his collar. When I confronted him, he simply told me to stop being "hysterical" and "acting like a child." He had no idea I was seven months pregnant with his child. He thought so little of my grief that he didn't even bother to craft a convincing lie, laughing with his mistress in our home while I sat in the dark with a shattered heart and a secret life growing inside me. "He doesn't deserve us," I whispered to the darkness. I didn't scream or beg. I simply left a folder on his desk containing signed divorce papers and a forged medical report for a terminated pregnancy. I disappeared into the night, letting him believe he had successfully killed his own legacy through his neglect. Five years later, Hilliard walked into "The Vault," the city's most exclusive underground auction, looking for a broker to manage his estate. He didn't recognize me behind my Venetian mask, but he couldn't ignore the neon pink graffiti on his armored Maybach that read "DEADBEAT." He had no clue that the three brilliant triplets currently hacking his security system were the very children he thought had been erased years ago. This time, I wasn't just a wife in the way; I was the one holding all the cards.

Modern Crime Revenge

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Chapter One.

WHAT IN THE WORLD!

Emily's POV.

"I," I paused, biting down my smile, while rubbing my palm against my stomach. "I am pregnant, Marcus. I'm carrying our child!"

The excitement pitched my voice to a scream. "I–I can't believe this." I stuttered, blinking my eyes in surprise as I covered my mouth with my hands. "We are finally going to carry our own child; I'm going to be a mother, and you'll be a father."

"I don't understand," he said, shaking his head with a serious look on his face. "What are you talking about? Who's pregnant?"

"I am pregnant, Marcus." I said, taking my words slowly. "The doctor just confirmed it earlier today; you can take a look at the report yourself."

I opened my bag, and handed him the report as an evidence. Before receiving it from me, he looked at me for a few seconds as if trying to ask if I had an idea of what I was really saying.

While he went through it, I kept fanning myself with a hand. The room suddenly felt hot. Perhaps, it was because I'd been under the sun for so long. Or maybe, my body couldn't contain the heat of my excitement, which I didn't expect it to.

I mean, it's been three years since we got married, and now I'm just months away from carrying my own child.

A bubble of laughter escaped my mouth. I just couldn't wait for him to put down the report and give me a hug. But then, it was taking too long.

"You want me to believe this?" he dropped the report on the center table, and righted himself from the couch. "You really want me to believe that you're pregnant for me?"

"What are you saying right now?" I asked, blinking my eyes in confusion. "You should be happy for us. After three years we are finally..."

"Going to have our own child?" he cut me off with a furrowed brow. "Three years Emily. Three good years,"

He indicated with three fingers. "After three years, you suddenly walk in here and tell me that you're pregnant for me? Really? You want to believe that child is mine?"

As his words upon my ears, my heart sank.

"I–I don't think I understand what you're trying to say." I closed my eyes to process his words. "What do you mean by after three years I walk in to tell you that I'm pregnant? You should be happy that I've finally gotten pregnant. Why are you suddenly acting weird?"

I took a step forward to close the distance between us.

"Don't." he warned, with ice in his voice. "Not another step. After all these years, you're suddenly pregnant?"

He narrowed his gaze at the words. "Does that even make any sense to you, Emily?" he added. "What were you expecting? That I would bounce from foot to foot round this house? Or better still, spread my arms to give you a big hug? Really?"

"Why are you suddenly acting this way, Marcus?" I asked, blinking back tears. "We have been looking for a child of our own for the past three years, and now that I'm pregnant, you're choosing to act weird? What's come over you? What's with the attitude? What's all these for?"

"Why don't you tell me, huh?" he asked, his voice matching the hardness of his gaze. "As far as I'm concerned, that child isn't mine."

A cold chill ran down the length of my spine.

"What do you mean, Marcus?" I asked, shaking my head. "What do you mean by the child isn't yours?"

"Drop the act, Emily!" he yelled, a flash of temper lighted his eyes.

I flinched at the sound of his voice. At the same time, my skin crawled with sparks of dread as I met his gaze. He was a completely different person from the man I knew.

"What's going on, Marcus?" I asked, a wedge of pain and tears breaking my voice in two. "Did I do something wrong? Why are you suddenly angry with me?"

I tried to take a step towards him.

"I said not another step!" he yelled, anger and nerves shook his voice. "Don't you get it? I'm not going to accept that child because it's not mine; you know the father of the child. So go celebrate with him."

He turned to leave, but I gripped his arm and held him back.

"If there's something going on, don't you think you should tell me?" I asked, my eyes burning with tears. "I really have no idea what you're talking about. Did I do something wrong?"

"You are going to act like you have no idea what you did, right?" he asked, looking over his shoulder. "Of course, what was I expecting? You would choose to deny it all you want. But I'm not surprised. Let go of me."

His voice was hard as steel.

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