The King Of My Heart

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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Being the daughter of an alpha isn't some glamorous, fairy-tale life. It's hell. Or at least it is for me.

I'm Olivia Archer, the only child of Alpha Drake Archer of the Nightfall Pack. Sounds impressive, right? Like I should be the spoiled princess of the pack, adored and respected by everyone. But reality doesn't care about what should be. My father doesn't see me as his legacy or his daughter. To him, I'm nothing but a mistake-a problem he can't wait to forget.

My mom was different. She was my safe place, my light in the suffocating darkness of my father's cold indifference. She used to tell me that I was her world, that I'd grow up to be someone incredible despite everything. She loved me with her whole heart, even though I could see the pain in her eyes every time my father ignored her.

She wasn't his fated mate, you see. She was his chosen mate, who stood by him when his fated mate rejected him. That should have meant something. It should have been enough. But it wasn't. The day Celeste walked into our lives, everything fell apart.

Celeste-his second-chance mate. Beautiful, perfect, and blessed by the Moon Goddess herself. My father took one look at her and decided that my mom and I didn't matter anymore. We were kicked out of the alpha's mansion within days of Celeste's arrival, banished to a dingy little room in the packhouse. My mom didn't complain, but I could see the heartbreak in her every time she looked at me.

And then she got sick.

I stayed by her side through every agonizing moment, watching as the life drained from her body. My father didn't visit her, not once. Celeste forbade it, and he obeyed like the good little puppet he'd become. When my mom finally passed away, it felt like the world had shattered into a million pieces. No one mourned her but me.

That's when the real torment began.

Celeste became the adored Luna, worshiped by everyone in the pack. Her son, Sid, became the golden boy. And me? I became their favorite target. Celeste's disdain was ice-cold and calculated, while Sid's cruelty burned like fire. Every day was a battle to survive their twisted games and my father's indifference.

This morning I started like all the others-miserable.

"Olivia! Where the hell are you?" Celeste's shrill voice cut through the thin walls of the packhouse like a knife.

I shot upright, heart pounding. I'd been curled up in the corner of the broom closet I called my room, a space barely big enough for the lumpy mattress on the floor and a pile of secondhand clothes. The faint scuttling of mice reminded me I wasn't alone, though they were the least of my problems.

"I'm coming, Luna Celeste!" I called, stumbling to my feet.

I didn't bother changing out of my ratty pajamas. Celeste hated waiting, and the consequences of making her angry weren't worth the effort.

I sprinted toward the mansion, where Celeste was waiting at the front door, arms crossed and eyes blazing. Even in her workout gear, she looked effortlessly perfect. Her dark hair was tied back in a sleek ponytail, and her skin glowed like she'd just stepped out of a spa.

"What time is it?" she demanded.

"S-six a.m.," I stammered, trying not to trip over my own feet as I came to a stop.

"And where are my running shoes and water bottle?"

"I-I'm sorry, Luna. I'll get them right away!"

She rolled her eyes. "You're useless," she muttered as I darted off toward the pack's gym.

The gym was Sid's favorite hangout, and I prayed he wouldn't be there. But as usual, the universe wasn't on my side.

The door slammed into someone as I rushed inside, and I froze when I heard the low growl behind me.

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