After Being Cheated I Became the Girlfriend of A Plutocrat

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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On their third wedding anniversary, Rosabella Brown suddenly came home early without calling Darryl because she wanted to surprise him. She planned to have dinner together at a high-class restaurant after meeting and discuss having children in the future. Every time this topic was brought up before, Darryl avoided it. She thought he was not ready to be a father because his work was busy. She happily walked up the stairs. The door was only slightly ajar.

A gasp came from the gap, making everyone blush like sharp needles piercing her heart.

Through the wooden door, the man's familiar back rubbed fiercely against the hot body of the woman below.

The smile on her lips disappeared.

Suddenly dizzy, Rosabella trembled as she reached out to grab the doorknob.

The two people who were entangled in the room stopped when they heard the noise. The woman looked out the door in a daze, shyly pulling the blanket to cover herself, a smile forming at the corner of her eyes.

The man frowned and turned back, looked at the girl standing at the door for a while, slowly stood up, and put on his clothes.

Isabella sat up in bed, her white hands still clutching the thick blanket, looking at Rosabella in surprise.

Rosabella turned and walked towards Darryl, wanting to ask a question, but couldn't. Her breath caught in her throat.

She gently closed her thin eyelashes. Clear drops of water flowed through the slits of her eyes and fell onto her cheeks.

She trembled and clenched her hands into fists, her voice weak as she asked a silly question.

"Why?"

The man was silent, lazily leaning back in his chair, exhaling a cloud of white smoke. After a long while, he opened his eyes, his voice filled with disgust as he answered her question.

"You see. She's Isabella, my ex-girlfriend. She's back, so let's get a divorce. You're a dull woman. I'm bored with you. But Isabella is different; she's hot and sexy, and she loves me very much. I love her too. Another important thing is that her family is rich and can give me what I want."

A slap landed on Darryl's face, causing his face to tilt to the side. He turned around, smiled weakly, and continued.

"Because you're too naive."

Rosabella stepped back, staggering a few steps. Yes, she was too naive, too naive to believe him, to believe his words, to believe that he had broken up with his ex, to stubbornly let the two of them hurt her in secret.

On their wedding day, Darryl confessed to her. "Isabella, you are the most beautiful flower in my heart. I will be with you for the rest of my life."

At that crucial moment, he had called her name by mistake. At that time, Rosabella didn't think much of it. She thought she had misheard. Now, when she heard Darryl introduce his first love, she realized that her name sounded very similar to that girl's name.

It turned out that in the past three years, she had just been a substitute. Three years... three years... the first love of her life had just disappeared. Her feelings were like a ball, like a toy in their hands.

Her emotions instantly shattered like a glass cup, thousands of sharp pieces of porcelain piercing her heart that contained countless memories of them.

Broken in a flash.

Rosabella laughed bitterly. She turned around, took a deep breath, clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her flesh, tried to hold back her tears, and walked calmly.

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