MR BILLIONAIRE WANTS ME

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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Tyler's POV

A ray of sunlight streaked through the tinted glass window and I squinted reaching for a pillow. My bed felt sturdier and Instead of a pillow I came in contact with a warm, breathing body and realized I was still in the hotel.

Memories from last night flashed through my head and the blonde head I had eventually come in here with yesterday, Sunday nights were best for hot sex.

Shit, it's Monday! As the realization hit me, I stood up immediately and the girl stirred. I didn't bother to know what she was feeling. I slipped on my pants and looked for my shirt in the heap of clothes lying on the cold floor of the hotel room.

"Good morning," the girl murmured and I smiled tightly knowing I didn't have to have any form of conversation with her.

I found my wristwatch and a quick glimpse told me it was ten minutes till seven. I have a life and I'm returning to it.

"We had great sex last night. I thought you'd at least ask to exchange contacts." The girl said and I remembered her name was Miranda. I bent down and picked up my coat from the floor, I threw her dress for her and when I saw that I was ready I turned to her.

"I would have, but I have a fiancée. Thank you for the great sex," I blew her a kiss and picked up my phone walking out of the crappy hotel room.

I climbed down the stairs and quickly placed a call to my assistant, he picked up on the first ring.

"You called me a hundred times." I snapped and I heard him grunt before he responded.

"Good morning to you too sir," David replied and the background noise told me he was already at work.

I flagged down a cab because I remembered telling my chauffeur to return home with the vehicle last night.

"Why have you been calling?" I asked again and he sighed.

"Files are piling up and your mother called, she said there's neglect in the bar," David said, he sounded like he was reading straight from the tab he always has with him. "Also, your fiancée has called five times."

I sighed as the cab pulled up in front of the Nelson mansion, it was properly illuminated and the plants surrounding it were in order. I trust Tilly to make sure of that. I gave the cab driver a ten-dollar bill and continued the call.

"So what do you want?"

I finally asked him, as I climbed the stairs and landed on the terrace. The butler was standing at the large doorway and he bowed in greeting as I passed him, I wondered if he also could smell the bad odor that was seeping from me, it was a bad mixture of alcohol and sweat. I knew I needed a deep bath.

"Please get to the office as fast as you can, Miss Rose just got here and doesn't seem to be leaving here anytime soon," David said in a hushed tone and I knew she was probably throwing a dramatic tantrum.

"I'll be there as fast as I can." I lied and I heard a crash. "What was that?"

David's breath came faster. "It's your fiancée, she's destroying souvenirs! Please make it fast."

Elsa's POV

I had little admirable quality traits but no one could deny I was an early riser. It was a little dark out which led me to start an impromptu cleaning spree.

The little loveseat that occupied my vast living room was shifted to the doorway and I was fervently mopping the ground. It had been only me in the house for the past week but I still felt that obsessive need to clean, Fiona liked to say I had OCD but I knew it was not particularly so.

My speaker's volume was set to the highest volume and I was jamming Taylor Swift and basking in the unreal feeling of heartbreak, although I had never experienced heartbreak I was familiar with the consequences and what it allowed one to do, I had a clear example growing up.

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