A MARRIAGE NEITHER WANTED

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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Jasmine's P.o.v

My eyes fluttered open and my gaze met with the familiar sight of our small, cluttered apartment. The peeling paint and worn furniture seemed to close in around me, a constant reminder of our struggles. I rubbed the sleep off my eyes and tossed off the thin blanket. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, and my feet dangled in the air.

The cold floorboards creaked beneath my weight as I stood up, stretching my tired muscles. Working two shifts a day ain't no joke! I shuffled to the kitchen, my eyes scanning the empty shelves. There was nothing to eat, no food to prepare for the day. I opened the fridge, and the hollow interior stared back at me like an empty promise.

Luckily, the bread I had brought home from my last shift would be doing justice to that as I remember bringing some.

With a sigh, I closed the fridge door and leaned against the counter. This is my life now, our life- a constant struggle to make ends meet, to put food on the table, and to keep a good roof over my head. Life was sure really good before my father's demise, but the sound of my mother's labored breathing at the hospital the last time is a harsh reminder of my now responsibility- a responsibility I would stop at nothing to carry.

My mother had been diagnosed with a terminal heart- disease for months and her condition keeps getting worse by the day. The doctor's words echoed in my head and then it dawned on me how little a time I have left to save my mother or risk her being dead. A situation I don't ever think I can accept – losing the only remaining family I have left.

As I head back to my room, I stumbled upon the magazine Rachel gave me last night and couldn't help, but reach for it. Rachel is my best friend and co-worker at the confectionary store where I work. I had told her about my plight one time and after everything, she introduced me to a magazine with an upcoming auction event.

Although the auction takes place every month ending and I had gone the last time, but changed my mind even before reaching the venue.

I swallowed the lump in my throat at the thought of what Rachel had told me. "There's no way I'm doing that" I said to myself. "It's disgusting. I'm not a commodity."

As I read through the magazine, I couldn't help but fix my eyes on the price before me. The figures danced on the page, taunting me with their simplicity.

$200,000

And that is even on an average. It is a really staggering amount, the exact amount I need for my mother's surgery. But it came with a steep price- my innocence.

I felt a wave of disgust wash over me. How could I even consider such thing? But thinking of my dying mother at the hospital, I knew I had no choice. Moreover, the medical bills just keeps piling up, and I had exhausted all other options. I had sold everything of value, taken out loans, and even begged for help from some few friends. I even had to work two shifts per day most days of the week.

But it wasn't enough.

With cold hands, I looked at the page once again, and I felt a sense of resignation all over me.

Unsure of what to do, I reach for my phone. I held it, dialed the agent's number from the magazine and paused.

I shed tears at the thought of my father, life was very easy and good prior to his demise and I and my mother never lacked anything. He died in a car crash according to my mother and everything just seemed to happen so fast, but I was very young to understand that.

I took a deep breath with my eyes closed and it took for the knock on the door to open them. I reach for it and wasn't surprise to see what I saw.

"Hello, Mr. Pedro." I let out an awkward smile, knowing what he is here for.

"You promised to pay up today, Jasmine. The day is almost over and I haven't received a single call or message from you." Mr. Pedro yelled at my face making me fidget a little.

I gained composure and finally managed to speak. "I know Mr. Pedro and I am really sorry. I just..."

"No more excuses. You either evacuate the apartment in seven days or pay up." He interrupted and screamed at my face before finally leaving.

I slammed the door and reach straight for my phone. Without any further hesitation, I called the agent's number showing my interest. My body went numb as I hung up the phone knowing I had made a decision that would change my life forever.

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