Shattered Vows An Arrange Marriage

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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Shattered Illusions

Emma Parker stared out of her penthouse's enormous floor to ceiling windows at the vast cityscape below. Though there was a developing storm inside her heart, the city was alive with sparkling lights and humming activity. Every day, it seemed to her, the gap between her and Julian was getting wider, like a chasm that no bridge could fill.

Five years ago, her husband Julian Parker had been her best friend, confidante, and protector. Whispered about in wonder at the many high-society galas they attended, their love story was the stuff of fairy tales. Julian's IT business had taken off, and they were the social circle's golden pair. The warmth had vanished, though, and Emma was left feeling alone and terrified.

Julian said, cutting through the quiet, "Emma, we need to talk."

Turning, she saw him standing in the entryway of their opulent living room, his face a mixture of annoyance and something else she couldn't quite identify. Terrified? Ange?

Is that it, Julian? Emma asked, straining not to stutter. These were the talks she hated; they were too often and always left her feeling more confused and devastated.

Julian drew deeply, his fists gripping and then releasing at his sides. Holding out a bundle of papers, he continued, "Emma, I need you to sign these."

Divorce papers, Emma knew them, and her heart fell. Julian, please, we have discussed this. Why is beyond me.

"It's not just about us anymore, Emma," a strained-sounding Julian said. You don't know some things, and I can't tell you others. But really, this is for the best.

With what you withhold, how can I trust you? Emma started crying and her voice broke. Love you, Julian. You loved me, I thought as well.

Julian hid the agony on his twisted face with a resolution. Emma, love has nothing to do with this. It has to do with defending my firm and my reputation as best I can. Just sign the paperwork, please. .

Emma had a chill run down her back. Sustaining your business? What connection does that make to us?

After he paused, Julian replied, "You've been linked to an embezzlement conspiracy. All the proof points to you, and funds are missing.

Emma looked startled, her eyes enlarging. With what? It is not possible like that. Julian, none of your business accounts have ever been touched by me. That you are aware of.

I wish Emma I could believe you. But there is overwhelming proof. Acting is what the board is seeking. They will ruin everything I've built if I don't break off contact with you.

Emma stumbled back, her head whirling. This is being done to us by who? Who would frame me, I wonder.

Julian looked a little unsure. Not sure, but I'm looking into it. You must sign the documents by then. Protecting yourself and allowing me time to clear your name requires it.

Emma took the papers with shaking hands and tear-stained vision. Julian, you seemed to be my guardian. I believed that united we were in this.

Julian groaned and turned aside. So I reasoned as well.

Heartbreak and confusion characterized the next few days. Emma shut herself up in their apartment, a million questions rushing through her head. By whom would she be framed? Why, too, did Julian think she was guilty so quickly?

Emma started going through their money, determined to uncover the true offender, in search of any hint. More investigation revealed a series of transactions that pointed to Isabella Harris.

Julian's new PR specialist, Isabella, had grown to be a part of their life very fast. For Emma, Isabella had always been unsettling despite her beauty, charm, and seeming perfection. She had good cause now to be suspicious of her.

Emma chose to go right to Isabella. Determined to uncover the scheme, she went to a charity event knowing Isabella would be there. Her worries were not much eased by the foolishness of the occasion when she walked into the magnificent ballroom.

She saw Isabella with her fans gathered around her close to the bar. Emma drew a long breath and walked over. "Isabella, we must speak."

Isabella turned, a false surprise widening in her eyes. Emma, please. You turning up here surprised me. With what may I help you?

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