Beneath the Starlit Shadows

The Billionaire's Secret Triplets: Mom's Revenge

HONEY MULLINS

Six years ago, I was a naive girl sold by my father to the powerful Sanders estate, only to be tossed onto the streets after a brutal assault they labeled "marital infidelity." I fled the country pregnant and broken, hiding from the shadow of a husband I had never even met. Now, I’ve returned to New York with my triplets to sign the final divorce papers and disappear forever. But Archibald Sanders—the man I was told was a crippled recluse—intercepted us with the cold precision of a predator. He didn't see the woman his family destroyed; he saw a gold-digger who had shamed his name. His security team hunted us to a grimy motel, using tactical force to snatch my children away and drag me to his glass-walled empire. In his office, he loomed over me, demanding a DNA test and threatening to throw me in prison while my babies were lost to the foster system. He was convinced I’d cheated, yet he stared at my sons with a haunting confusion, unable to ignore the stormy blue eyes that were a perfect mirror of his own. I stood there, paralyzed by his scent—the sharp tang of rain and expensive leather that triggered the icy dread of my worst nightmares. How could he accuse me of betrayal when he felt exactly like the monster who had shattered my life in that dark hotel room? "I'll sign anything," I sobbed, "just give me my kids." But the game changed when my five-year-old son hacked the tower’s security, holding the skyscraper hostage to save me. In the chaos, a fragile, silent boy—Archibald’s secret son—wandered into the room and reached for me as if I were his missing soul. Archibald’s face turned to stone as he tore up the agreement and locked the doors. "Until I find out why my son is looking at you like that," he growled, "you aren't going anywhere."

Modern Mystery Revenge

Download the Book on the App

Ivy's POV

My heels clattered on the wooden floor as I pulled the door open, making a creaking sound. "I'm home, Nathan!" With a voice tinged with fatigue, I called. I was met with silence. Normal. Most likely, my younger brother was once more lost in his books.

Nathan took his goal of getting into a prestigious university very seriously, and he had finals coming up.

I opened the mail after dropping my luggage on the kitchen counter. Bills. Bills. Additionally, there are more bills. Staring at the stack, each package a harsh reminder of how close we were to drowning, made my stomach turn. Even without Nathan's tuition, my salary as a secretary hardly covered the necessities. He had enough things to worry about, so I couldn't tell him how horrible it was.

"Ivy?" My thoughts were disrupted by Nathan's voice. His face was marked with worry, and his hair was disheveled as he stood in the doorway.

"Hey. How did your day go? Sliding the money under a magazine, I feigned a smile.

"All right. You appear worn out. He took a step toward me and gave me a suspicious look.

I said, "Long day at work," and brushed past him in the direction of the refrigerator. "I'm preparing pasta. Do you want some?

He folded his arms and remarked, "You're avoiding the question."

With a groan, I shut the refrigerator door. "I'm all right, Nathan. Please don't worry about me. Just concentrate on your study.

"You're overdoing it," he said. Perhaps I ought to take a year off. Put in some work-"

"Definitely not." I didn't mean for my tone to be so sharp. Nathan, you're attending college. The conversation is over.

He gave me a long look, concern shining in his eyes. "You know you're stubborn?"

"Comes from a family." I smiled weakly at him and returned my attention to the stove.

But, I was unable to get rid of the weight in my chest while I stirred the spaghetti. For the sake of both of us, I had to figure out how to make things work.

All week, the invitation to the gala sat tauntingly on my desk at work. I lacked the enthusiasm and time for a high-profile event. My best friend and office gossip queen, Sophia, But, had other ideas.

"You're leaving," she said, settling into my cubicle.

I objected, saying, "Sophia, I don't even have a dress."

"Excuses." She dismissedively waved her hand. "I have a gorgeous black number that will fit you like a glove. Ivy, hurry up. One evening. You must have this.

I whispered, "I need to sleep."

"No. For the first time in your life, you will let loose. Daring me to dispute, she crossed her arms.

So there I was, drinking champagne and trying not to feel totally out of place at the Blackwell Enterprises charity dinner. With the air heavy with wealth and influence, the room was a sea of glistening dresses and well-tailored suits.

Sophia nudged me and murmured, "Smile." "You look fantastic."

"I feel like a fake," I said as I pulled at the borrowed dress's hem.

"Well, pretend until you succeed." After giving a wink, she vanished into the throng.

In the hopes that a drink might help me relax, I strolled up to the bar. I sensed someone standing next to me while I waited for the bartender. I turned to look into the intense eyes of a man who made the room disappear.

"First time here?" he said in a rich, silky voice.

"That clear?" My cheeks flushed as I answered.

"Not at all." A little smile curved his lips. "You simply don't seem to be making an effort to win people over."

Read Now