The vampire and the assassin

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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“Hope you’re ready for tonight, Seline?” Jax whispered lowly, his voice distorted by the throngs of enslaved wolves and their masters getting ready for the auction show. I wrenched my gaze from the pristine stage and turned to look at him with a sigh.

“To be honest, Jax, I’d have said yes I’m ready a few hours before. But now…I don’t know. How many hours do we have left?”

He consulted his watch, a glittering Rolex, and shook his head. “Barely an hour. Come on then, let’s get you dressed up and ready. You must look your absolute best tonight, Seline. That’s the only way to get his attention.”

I strode with him into the dressing rooms at the back, pulling off the thin slave dress I was wearing. When I first got captured by the Vampire Hunters Academy and introduced to Jax, I hated the material. But not as much as I hated my new life or the beast that ended my old one. Here now, in the dressing room, the murmur of the audience is distinct and fuels my nerve endings to short-circuit even more. I rubbed my sweaty palms together, inhaling and exhaling in an attempt to steady my heartbeat.

You can do this, Seline. You’ve trained years for this night. Get it right.

Jax pulled out a shimmering red dress from the battered wooden closet and pressed it lightly against my bosom. “You can never get it wrong with red. Such a beautiful color. Like blood.” He smirked, his pointed fangs shooting out a bit. I nodded in agreement, even though I disagreed. I saw nothing special about the color red and it reminded me of that night I sat on the floor of my dusty Packhouse, surrounded by the crimson pool of my dead family.

The memories just don’t stop coming no matter how much I tried to avoid them.

Jax noticed my change in mood and snapped. “I understand how you must be feeling, Seline. Believe me, I felt bitter and vengeful when I lost my own family as well, thirteen years ago. Ferrara DeMarco is the enemy,” his eyes darkened, an unearthly growl rising from the back of his throat. “He killed our loved ones. Ruined our childhoods. This is your chance to make it right. No forgiveness.”

I swallowed hard, nodding. I hated the word forgiveness. It was a trap employed by bad people to escape justice. Please forgive us. Spare us. They always whined.

Pfft. Like my family was spared. I didn’t even let them say a word more after that before driving my claws into the hollows of their throats. It eased my pain to see the blood gushing forth, their eyes going white and their bodies limp. Satisfaction at its peak.

“No forgiveness,” I repeated. “I’m ready.”

“Good girl.” He pecked me lightly on the cheek and left the room so I could get dressed. I slipped the silky dress on slowly, loving the way it draped over my breasts and hips, molding to them with a nod to modesty. It stopped just before my knees, the wide slit allowing air in my privates. I decided not to wear panties. Ferrara might check to ascertain if I was truly a virgin, and if found otherwise he might not be willing to buy me for the right price. The downside about the dress is, that I can’t hide my two-inch blade like I use to. It had no pockets and was thinner than the white slave material I often wore. I couldn’t go to a battle without weapons. At least I needed a stake to drive it into his neck at the first opportunity I got.

Maybe that’s what made this battle different from the rest. Ferrara was a smart king – ruled over the vampires for at least a hundred years going. I heard that he had a son and wife before but they died in a clash with the Lycans. Perhaps this would’ve lessened my thirst for vengeance a bit. He knew pain. He was already broken just like me. But that only explained why he went about killing the Packs around him. Smothering families. I’d have died if I hadn’t been away that day.

He didn’t deserve pity but death. A slow, painful death.

“Are you ready?” Jax walked in, disrupting my thoughts. I turn around so he could see how well the dress fitted me. “Beautiful,” he muttered, reaching out to squeeze my breasts. I winced at how hard his hands felt. “Beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“Ten minutes left!” A black-clad backstage hand strutted in, her eyes flitting between Jax and me. I cautiously moved away from him, clearing my throat. “Your leash is ready Seline. Good day, Sir Jax.”

Jax waves a hand, his expression dismissive. She didn’t notice though for she’d already walked away.

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