Married a disabled CEO Decided to love you

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 Kickass Heroine Hidden identities Revenge

Download the Book on the App

Joanne Ogoin sat rigidly in the backseat of the luxury black sedan, her fingers clutching the hem of her dress as if the fabric could ground her. The city lights blurred past the tinted windows, but she barely noticed. Tonight wasn't about the city. It wasn't about the expensive restaurant her parents had insisted on. It was about the man waiting for her inside.

Marcus Thompson.

The ruthless, cutthroat CEO of Thompson Enterprises. A man whose name was synonymous with power and destruction. A man she was being forced to marry.

Joanne's stomach twisted as her mother's voice echoed in her head. "You should be grateful, Joanne. Any woman in her right mind would kill for a chance like this."

Grateful?

She wasn't foolish. She understood what this marriage meant to the Ogoins. Their business had been bleeding money for years, and Marcus Thompson, with his wealth and influence, was the only man powestruck- Joanneo save them. A deal had been struck- Joanne, the sickly, unwanted daughter, was the price.

Her father's voice had been dismissive when he told her. "You should consider yourself lucky, Joanne. It's not like you had any better prospects."

A sharp pain shot through her chest, but she ignored it.

The car came to a smooth stop in front of Echelon, an exclusive restaurant known for hosting billionaires, politicians, and the kind of people who made and destroyed lives with a single word.

The driver opened the door, and Joanne stepped out, smoothing down the silk of her dress. Her heels clicked against the pavement as she walked into the restaurant.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of expensive wine and truffle-infused dishes. A waiter guided her toward a private section, where only the most elite dined.

And then, she saw him.

Marcus Thompson sat at the corner table, his presence commanding the entire space. Dressed in a tailored black suit, his sharp jawline and piercing gray eyes made him look more like a predator than a man. A sleek, black cane rested against the table beside him.

Joanne's breath caught in her throat.

The world spoke of Marcus Thompson as if he were invincible, a force of nature that crushed anything in his path. But the cane told a different story.

For a split second, their eyes met,, something flickered in his gaze-something sharp, guarded.

Then, his lips curved into a smirk.

"Sit." His voice was smooth but edged with steel. A demand, not a request.

Joanne forced herself to move, settling into the chair across from him. The moment she did, Marcus leaned forward, studying her like she was an unsolved puzzle.

"I expected someone more... fragile," he said, his voice laced with amusement.

Joanne straightened her spine. "I expected someone less rude."

Marcus chuckled, swirling his drink. "You don't seem like the type to enjoy arranged marriages."

"I don't."

"Good," he said, leaning back. "Neither do I."

Read Now