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Get the APPBelated Repentance
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Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance
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.I curled up on the company sofa waiting for Ayden Martin when I casually clicked into a video that was only a few seconds long.
A hand with distinct knuckles was hooked by slender fingertips in an utterly intimate way.
The caption read like the girl's soft murmur. "While the grown-ups discussed business, I quietly reached out to his hand. I didn't expect that he, who was rational and composed in work matters, couldn't stay rational with me."
I smiled and liked it. "Ayden, look at how girls these days love writing these CEO romance stories, claiming that presidents like you secretly hold hands during business talks. Is it real or fake?"
Ayden did not even lift his head and only said faintly, "Stop watching these."
I asked with my mouth, but in my heart I knew the Ayden I knew would never do that.
After five years of marriage, every time there was a social event he only pushed me into the lounge, let alone stage these idol drama scenes.
I lowered my head and suddenly noticed the watch on the hand in the video. A luxury watch.
The anniversary gift I gave Ayden was also the same luxury watch.
...
I nervously clicked into the girl's profile.
The pinned post was a blurred side-profile photo stitched together with the girl's selfie.
Even though the picture was blurred, I recognized Ayden at a glance.
I could not believe it.
But the faint scar on the knuckle I would never mistake.
Moreover, I knew better than anyone how strict Ayden's rules were.
In five years of marriage, even I had to knock and wait for his permission before entering the office.
Yet in the video, he let a strange woman hook his hand, breaking the principles he always followed.
I felt a bit short of breath.
"Ayden." I opened my mouth, wanting to ask if the person in the video was him, wanting to ask who the girl in the video was.
Before I could ask, Ayden's phone rang urgently.
He glanced at the caller ID, quickly walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, and answered in a low voice.
After hanging up, he hurriedly grabbed his coat and headed out. "I have something to do. Heading out for a bit."
My heart sank sharply.
What kind of person was Ayden?
Leaving his post during work hours was simply unthinkable for him.
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Belated Awakening
I curled up on the company sofa waiting for Ayden Martin when I casually clicked into a video that was only a few seconds long. A hand with distinct knuckles was hooked by slender fingertips in an utterly intimate way. The caption read like the girl's soft murmur. "While the grown-ups discu/0/91547/coverorgin.jpg?v=20251104075650&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Alpha's Belated Heart
I watched as the doctor tossed the bone marrow, which was freshly extracted from me, into the trash can. Just as I was about to speak, I heard voices from the adjacent room. "The 97th revenge, and that stupid woman, Vanessa Price, really believes Timothy was poisoned and rushed over to donate/0/24123/coverorgin.jpg?v=20220531144752&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Haunted's kiss of regret and repentance
“How can you tell me you never wanted it when you can’t deny that you loved every second of it, my love? Shyne, no one will ever make you feel the way I do, and I’ll spend every moment proving it. Not even time and death can separate us.” Shyne De Leon runs away from her past and her ex-lover by us/0/42280/coverorgin.jpg?v=04d4cfcd48fb5bb7b5009b1dd82d8cf3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Love After Divorce: His Belated Affection
Lucian was always disgusted by Giselle. Nothing she ever did was good in his eyes. Even though she did everything to win his love, he never acknowledged her efforts for three years. Giselle saw hell. When she finally decided to leave him, she felt like she had been given a new lease on life. She d/1/110825/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260314194319&imageMogr2/format/webp)
