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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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[Five Days Earlier]

Roxanne stirred on her bed as she turned from side to side. She muttered intelligible words as she tightly clutched her comfy pillow.

“Roxanne! Aren’t you up yet? At this rate, you’ll be late for school!” A loud voice came forth.

This voice belonged to her mother, who was beginning to get concerned that her daughter wasn’t responding to her calls.

“This girl…” She muttered to herself, climbing the stairs which led to the first floor where Roxanne’s room was located.

Within moments, she arrived at the front of Roxanne’s room, with only the lacquered door serving as a boundary, preventing her from entering.

>Knock, Knock, Knock<

The clacking sounds her mother’s hands made as they made contact with the door to her room seemed to do the trick as the sleeping beauty immediately roused from her slumber, opening her eyes slowly as the knocking sounds continued.

Her blue lens shone dimly as she opened her eyes lazily. She slowly stirred, moving her body in an attempt to rise from bed, an exercise in futility. Instead, she compensated by shifting her body toward the crown of the bed, while using the wooden structure alongside her hands to support her body.

“I can hear you mom. I’m up…” Roxanne grumbled, sitting up on her bed.

Her unruly, long dark hair covered her face, causing the strands to dance all over her cheeks. She pushed herself to stand, dragging her feet as she walked toward the door to her room where her mom stood on the other side. She undid the lock and opened the door slowly.

“Morning mom” She said in a tired fashion.

“Roxanne!? I can’t believe this. You’re such a mess! This never happens, just when did you get to bed last night?” Her mom asked her with a concerned look.

Roxanne smiled uncomfortably. There’s no way she could tell her mom what she had been up to the previous night. As always, she had to just come up with a special something called a LIE.

“I was studying. We have tests by the end of the week before we leave for Winter Break.” Roxanne mumbled.

“Oh, wow. That’s good then, but don’t push it, okay? You need to get to school quickly, so I’ll leave you right now. Get freshened up quickly, if you don’t want to ruin your perfect attendance record.” Her mom said with her usual doting tone.

Roxanne was used to this though.

“Aye aye mom,” She said, closing the door to her room before her mother uttered another word.

“Gah, I feel sore. Last night didn’t, in any way, go as I thought.” She said to herself.

She stretched her body and yawned, releasing the tensed-up feeling she was feeling as she felt even more awake. She turned her head, causing her hair to flail behind her and stop it’s dance all over her face. A strand still remained in the middle of her face, causing her to glare a bit.

“Whoo. Whoo. Hoooo.”

She let out air from her mouth, pursing her lips to increase the concentration of her breath as she tried to use the air she produced to forcibly make the strand join the rest of its members. All to no avail.

Tired of her meaningless and fruitless effort, she used her hand to carry the strand and place it at its rightful place behind her, just where it belonged. Even though she had achieved her goal, she still felt a sense of defeat, like she lost to the strand.

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