Barely Legal

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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A Visit from My Obsessor

A private jet landed at Indira Gandhi International Airport. As the packing apron was emptied for the arrival of a very special guest.

Six men dressed in an all-black suit and leather shoes waited patiently by the Maybach Exelero packed in front of the plane for the arrival of India's most special guest.

Letting down the air stairs, the six men immediately went towards the airplane and waited by the stairs to welcome him.

Putting on his glasses and facemask, he got off the plane and went straight to the black Maybach Exelero, not waiting or responding to the greetings of the scout men who followed beside him.

"Sir," the driver greeted him immediately as he sat down in the car.

"To the Baljiwan mansion." He ordered his eyes to never leave the iPad in his hands.

The driver bowed his head a little from the front of the car in acknowledgement before he started the car and drove out of the packing apron to the location given to him.

****

Everyone's attention turned to the luxurious car that entered the Baljiwan compound with speed. Stopping in front of the mansion, the driver came out of the car and opened the back door of the car.

Everyone held their breath as they waited patiently to see who was going to come out of the car.

Placing his foot on the ground, he sucked in a breath before coming out of the car. He looked around a bit, gripping the golden bracelet tightly in his palm.

He dipped his other hands into his pocket before trying to make his way through the media, who now crowded themselves around him, their cameras flashing, curious to know who the sudden guest was.

From inside the mansion, the commotion the media was making outside could be heard.

Getting up from his seat, Mr. Baljiwan excused himself from the ceremony to check exactly what was going on outside.

Mr. Baljiwan stepped out of his mansion with fur written all over his face.

He came into contact with a man standing in front of his mansion, his hands dipping into his pocket, as some men dressed in all black tried to stop the media from getting any more forward than they already were.

Going towards the man, he stopped in front of him and looked up, murmuring a few curse words at the height difference between them.

" Yes! And who are you, young man? ung man?" He asked.

He narrowed his eyes at him, raising an eyebrow before taking off the mask and eyeglasses he had on.

He stared blankly at the old man in front of him as his eyes widen in realization.

Mr. Baljiwan stayed rooted to his spot, shocked, not believing the presence of the person he was standing in front of.

Cleaning his hands unconsciously on his suit, he stepped a little bit forward and extended his hands for a handshake.

He stared down at the old man's hand, then back up at his face, making the man shift slightly on his spot before taking his hand out of his pocket and accepting the handshake.

The old man blew out a breath of relief before forcing a smile on his lips and then quickly withdrawing his hands to his side after the handshake.

"Mr. Ethan, please, to whom do I owe this pleasure?" He asked.

but only got shunned as Ethan put his hands back into his pocket and walked past him, making his way into the mansion, leaving him behind.

Mr. Baljiwan stood there, shocked, for the second time in just a few minutes.

Turning towards the door, he couldn't help but wonder what the great Ethan was doing in his house. Was he here for business or the ceremony? He wonder.

Meanwhile, inside the mansion, the couple attending the ceremony were getting ready to take their vows in front of the priest and the holy fire.

The priest raised the mangalsutra before giving it to the groom to tie around his bride-to-be's neck.

Disha smiled as she closed her eyes, ready for her husband to place his claim around her neck.

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