Shadows of my past

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 Kickass Heroine Hidden identities Revenge

Download the Book on the App

"What are you going to do after the meeting today?" Lovette asked.

I pushed the hidden button on the side of the pillar, revealing a panel. Placing my hand on the scanner, I replied, "I have a ton of work that needs to get done."

"Of course you do," Aaron said, rolling his hazel eyes.

I gave him a droll stare and motioned for him to enter the newly revealed passageway. He chuckled and stepped past me. Lovette hid a laugh and followed, with Zara right behind her. I walked in after them, and the door slid shut.

"Come on, Rylan! You’re a twenty-two-year-old dark-haired beauty! You should be going out with friends and having a good time, not working every single night," Lovette exclaimed.

After the retinal scan the next panel, the door opened, and we walked through. I snorted, "As much fun as that sounds, I have to work."

"Good morning, Agent Rylan. Lovette, Zara, Aaron; it's good to see you," Logan said, scanning us to confirm our identities. The next door slid open.

"Hey Logan!" Lovette said cheerfully. "What kind of pie do we have today?" An x-ray checked for unauthorized tracers.

"I believe Miss Aria baked an apple pie today, Lovette," Logan replied, ever the polite super-computer. We reached the end of the passageway and stopped in front of a large steel door. Logan opened it, and we stepped through.

We entered a large room with metallic silver walls, cubicles on one side, and a kitchen counter on the other. A long table in the center was surrounded by chairs, some already occupied by agents. Victoria and her boyfriend, Austin, were laughing loudly. Josh and Anna were quietly chatting. An apple pie sat in the middle of the table, as promised.

Lovette, Aaron, and Zara joined the others at the table while I walked to the far side of the room toward the bathrooms and back exit. I stopped at a cage next to a door, where a bulldog was waiting.

"Hey Owen! How's it going, boy?" I asked, opening the cage. Owen ran out and jumped on me, his front paws resting on my legs. He licked my hand and sniffed my leather jacket pocket. I chuckled, pulling out a dog biscuit. "Looking for this?" He looked at me pleadingly, and I gave him the treat, patting his back while he ate.

"I just don't get it!" Josh exclaimed from the table.

I looked over to see everyone staring at me. "Get what?" I asked, confused.

"How he lets you get so close to him. If any of us try, he'll bite our fingers off!" Josh explained. To prove his point, Owen growled at him.

I shrugged, "He likes me better."

"It's more than that. It has to be," Zara stated.

I looked down at Owen, my mind racing through past memories. My voice sounded distant as I said, "It's just how we trained him."

"Who is 'we'?" Lovette asked, sensing they were missing something important.

Just then, the door to the only actual office among the cubicles opened. An older woman, around 50, walked out, wearing long flowing clothes and a braid dyed blondish-brown hanging over her shoulder. "Well, I best be off!" she said in a sing-song voice. I put Owen back in his cage and stood up. Aria walked over and hugged me. "I know how you get this time of year. Just take it easy and remember we are here for you." I nodded in response to her whispered comment. "Don't work too hard, dear," she said louder.

Read Now