Sugar Baby To The Billionaire

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.

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Dr. Aaron's words hung in the air like a guillotine, poised to drop and sever all hope. Emma's heart raced as she clutched the armrests of the worn hospital chair, her knuckles weak with desperation.

"Hold on...Let me get this straight, Doctor," Emma said, her voice trembling. "You're telling me that my mother's surgery, her only chance at survival, depends on me finding a huge sum of money? And without the money there will be no treatment for her? Even if she dies right in front of you?"

Dr. Aaron's expression was a mask of sympathy, but his eyes betrayed a hint of impatience. "I'm afraid so, Emma. The hospital's policy is clear: payment upfront or no procedure. Your mother's condition is critical, and time is running out."

Emma felt like she'd been punched in the gut. She thought she'd been prepared for anything, but this...this was a nightmare. "How much money are we talking about?"

"Thirty thousand dollars," Dr. Aaron replied, his voice firm but not unkind.

Emma's mind reeled. Thirty thousand dollars might as well have been thirty million. She was a struggling club worker, doing multiple jobs just to make ends meet. Where was she supposed to find that kind of money?

"What about financial aid or assistance programs? Or anything just to save her right now" Emma asked, grasping at straws.

Dr. Aaron shook his head. "Your mother's condition doesn't qualify for priority funding. I'm sorry, Emma. Time is running out, this is the only advice I can offer you and that is for you to be very quick,she can not survive it without undergoing a surgery"

Emma's eyes welled up with tears as she thought of her mother, lying in the hospital bed, fighting for her life. She felt a surge of determination. She would find a way, no matter what it took.

"I'll do it," Emma said, her voice firm. "I'll find the money."

Dr. Aaron's expression softened. "I'm sorry, Emma. I truly am. But I know you'll do everything you can. You just have to try." And with that he walked away

Emma nodded multiple times, it was as if she was growing crazy "I can do it.. I must do it." She murmured to herself.

Emma's feet felt heavy as she trudged through the hospital corridors, the antiseptic scent and muted beeps of machines her constant companion. She turned a corner, and her heart skipped a beat as she caught sight of her mother's frail form,her body weak as she lay on the bed, surrounded by the sterile glow of medical equipment.

Her mother's eyes, sunken and weary, met Emma's, and a faint smile flickered on her lips. Emma's throat constricted as she forced a smile back, trying to hide the desperation clawing at her insides. She approached the bed, her gaze drifting to the oxygen mask covering her mother's mouth, the soft whoosh of the ventilator scares her.

With a heavy heart, Emma turned away, her eyes drawn to the window. The view was breathtaking, a tapestry of city lights and stars twinkling like diamonds scattered across the velvet expanse. But the beauty was lost on her. She felt like she was drowning in a sea of hopelessness.

Sinking into the chair beside her mother's bed, Emma let out a shuddering sigh. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she whispered, "I'm only 21...and yet I'm suffering like I've done something wrong for being in this world, cant I just be at peace for once? Why didn't he create me into the world of the rich? Why did he create me just to suffer and cry my eyes out." Her voice cracked, and she felt the dam break. Tears streamed down her face, hot and relentless.

"Oh God...what should I do? Thirty million dollars is beyond me, so beyond me" she said with tears, her head thrown back, as if expecting a miracle to descend from the heavens. Her body shook with sobs, the weight of her responsibilities crushing her.

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