CEOs Mysterious Fiancée

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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Theodore

"Isa wait. Let's talk about this baby, you can't say something like that and just leave," I plead with my wife softly, trying to get her to rethink her decision. Isabel has always been much too stubborn for her own good.

"No! There's nothing to talk about Theodore and you know it," she says calmly while staring at me, daring me to fight her on this.

Usually, at this point I back off and let her have her way but not this time. This time I have to be more stubborn than she could ever be.

"You're not leaving Isabel, I won't let you. How could you even think about leaving us? Are you even thinking about me? Our family? Our children?!" I ask with quiet anger.

She laughs loudly and that makes my blood boil. She knows that Ethan and Emile are in the next room but she makes no effort to avoid disturbing their sleep. Another instance of Isabel being too selfish to be a good mother.

"Am I even thinking about us?" she asks incredulously after her deep laughter. "We both know there is no 'us' Theodore. The farce has gone on for as long as it can and I can finally call quits."

"Isa-"

She puts her hand up to cut me off while pacing up and down the large master's bedroom. I look out the door, concerned that her loud voice is causing a disturbance to our twins.

"And our families? They have gotten what they wanted after forcing us into this loveless marriage. Why keep on going with it when they have moved on?!"

Her sea blue eyes stare at me defiantly.

I want to oppose her, but even I can't deny it. The business between the Renaults and Thompsons that made both families decide to have their heirs marry each other has long since been concluded, leaving Isabel and I to live out the consequences.

I would never have agreed to the arrangement if Isabel wanted no part of it so we both agreed to resign ourselves to a loveless marriage. We have been comfortable going about our lives living under one roof for the past three years. At least, that's what I thought.

"This-this is not what we agreed to Isa," I say quietly as I think of her request for a divorce.

Even though we never fell in love, we developed a unique friendship surrounding our situation and her decision to leave feels like a betrayal.

Her eyes soften as she holds my gaze. "Theodore, I'm sorry for going against our initial agreement. You're a wonderful friend...but I want more. I want my freedom."

I stare into her eyes and I see just how serious she is. If I let her leave, she won't come back. This isn't one of her usual hasty decisions.

"You want your freedom? If I let you leave what do I get from that?" I ask quietly as I walk out of the French windows while massaging my head. I can already feel the headache coming.

Isabel's heels announce her joining me on the balcony.

"Do you remember your life before we got married?" She asks behind me. "Don't tell me you've forgotten that carefree young boy who was in love. You can go back to that time, Theodore. You can leave everything, the kids, the businesses, our families. You don't have to pretend anymore."

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