Bound by fate and fire

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.

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heat spreading through his chest. His vision wavered, edged with flickers of darkness that weren't entirely his own. His heartbeat pounded, not from exertion, but from something far worse-something lurking beneath his skin, waiting.

No. Not now.

Not here.

He gritted his teeth, trying to suppress the force clawing at his mind. But it was too late.

The curse took hold.

A sharp, agonizing heat exploded in his chest. His breath hitched as the world tilted. The relic inside him flared with power, an ancient hunger seeping into his bones. He could feel himself slipping-his thoughts scattering, his control unraveling.

His hand tightened around his dagger.

He needed to finish this before-

A gasp.

Kael's head snapped toward the sound.

And there she was.

A girl.

She stood frozen in the dim torchlight, her wide eyes locked onto him.

His pulse stuttered. She wasn't supposed to be here.

The girl-no, the woman-was young, draped in a dark cloak that marked her as someone who didn't belong in a place like this. He could see the rise and fall of her chest, the tension in her fingers. She should have run.

But she didn't.

Instead, she took a step forward.

Kael's breath hitched. His body wasn't fully his anymore. The cursed trance had him now, his mind tangled in the relic's grip. He could feel its whispers slithering through his thoughts, urging him to act, to kill, to destroy.

His dagger lifted.

The woman's lips parted, her voice soft, hesitant.

"...You're in pain."

What?

Kael stiffened, barely restraining a flinch. His mind was screaming, his instincts demanding he push her away-no, kill her before she became a threat.

But he couldn't move.

She was stepping closer. Carefully, cautiously, like someone approaching a wounded animal.

And Kael... let her.

For the first time in his life, he didn't strike. He didn't threaten. He just stood there, trembling, his body torn between violence and something he couldn't name.

Then, she raised her hand.

His entire body tensed as her fingers ghosted over his arm, her touch barely there. A strange warmth bloomed where she touched, cutting through the cold haze of the curse.

"You're not-" she hesitated. "You're not lost yet."

A healer.

She had to be.

But no healer would dare approach a man like him. No sane person would.

Kael found his voice, rough and strained. "You don't know what you're doing."

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