Mated To My Lycan Prince

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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ESCAPE

WILLOW'S POV

My heart is racing as I pack my bags, throwing clothes and supplies into my backpack with shaky hands. I can hear the sounds of my pack howling in the distance, and I know that I have to move quickly if I want to escape unnoticed.

My father, the alpha of Prime Pack, has committed too many atrocities for me to stay here any longer. He has killed innocent humans, tortured other shifters, and ruled with an iron fist. I can't take it anymore, it is either I escape or become caught in my father's destructiveness.

I take one last look around my room, trying to memorize every detail before I leave. I know that I'll never be able to come back here again.

I take a deep breath and sling my backpack over my shoulder. It's now or never. I open my window and climb out onto the roof, trying to be as quiet as possible.

But just as I'm about to jump down, I hear footsteps behind me. I turn around to see my best friend, Jake, standing there, his expression torn between concern and determination.

"I'm coming with you," he says firmly, holding out his own backpack.

I hesitate for a moment, knowing that he could get in serious trouble for leaving the pack without permission. But I also know that I can't do this alone.

"Okay," I say finally, taking his backpack and slinging it over my other shoulder.

Together, we make our way across the rooftops, jumping from building to building with the ease of years of practice. We can hear the pack howling in the distance, getting closer and closer.

We run faster, our hearts pounding in our chests as we race toward the edge of town. We can't stop now. We have to keep going.

Finally, we reach the forest, and we plunge into the thick underbrush, trying to put as much distance between the pack and us as possible. We keep running, our legs burning with exertion. My heart is pounding as I run through the forest, my backpack bouncing against my back. I can hear the sounds of my pack howling in the distance, but I know that I have to keep going. I can't let them catch me.

I glance over my shoulder and see Jack struggling to keep up. He's a good friend, but he's not as fast as I am. I slow down a bit, waiting for him to catch up.

"Come on, we have to keep going!" I shout, my voice is hoarse from the exertion.

But just as we round the bend in the trail, we come face to face with a group of my father's warriors. They're all armed with spears and daggers, and they're blocking our way.

I try to dodge past them, but one of them grabs me by the arm, pulling me to a stop. I struggle to break free, but I'm outnumbered and outmatched.

"Where do you think you're going?" one of them sneers, his eyes flashing with anger.

"I...I have to go," I stammer, trying to come up with a convincing excuse.

But they're not buying it. They know that I'm running away from my pack, and they're not about to let me go without a fight.

Suddenly, I hear a commotion behind me, and I turn to see Jack sprinting away, his backpack bouncing wildly as he disappears into the trees.

"Get him!" one of my warriors yells, and several of them take off after him.

I'm left alone, surrounded by my angry warriors. I know that I'm in trouble, but I refuse to go down without a fight.

I struggle against them, but there are too many of them. They overpower me, pinning me to the ground with their spears and daggers.

I close my eyes, bracing myself for the worst. But then, I hear a voice.

"Stop!" it says, firm and commanding.

I look up to see my father, the alpha of Prime Pack, striding towards us. He's flanked by several of his most trusted lieutenants, and they all look serious and stern.

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