Becoming Mrs Blackstone

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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CHAPTER 1

ANYA'S POV

"Mother says you should get dressed. Mr Baron will be here soon."

Eleanor's statement was confirmation of what I knew was going to come eventually. My parents had decided to marry me off to an old, pervy loser.

"Tell her I am indisposed."

"Anya-" My younger sister started to speak, most definitely to try and reason with me.

"I am indisposed, Eleanor. Tell mother." My emphasis on 'mother' was a reminder to Eleanor that the person we were referring to was not our mother, she was a beautiful witch called Adline; the woman that birthed us was in fact long dead, and the sorry excuse for a father that I had could not wait to wife up the young lady who had caught his fancy while my mother battled with her mental health.

My younger sister shrugged and walked out of my room while I prepared myself for the storm that was fast approaching.

My door burst open a few seconds sooner than I had anticipated and my sneering stepmother stood in the doorway.

"You will get dressed at once, young lady! You-"

"Mother," I said sweetly, my tongue laced with sarcasm, "I am feeling unwell. What is it about this visit that is so important, I have to leave my bed?"

"Don't play silly games with me, girl."

I chuckled at her calling me 'girl' when she was not more than five years older than me. I understood marrying a rich man for his wealth but she didn't have to play this silly role of a faux mother.

"Look, I'm feeling under the weather, and you are not going to make me come meet your guest, unless you want to run the risk of me throwing up all over him. What's Baron coming here for anyway?"

"You don't know? And your father always praises you for your intelligence."

"Well, I guess he's wrong, and the apple really doesn't fall far from the tree, otherwise, how did he end up with..." I swallowed the 'you' for dramatic effect

Her breathing intesified and she said "Just you wait" before turning on her heels and stomping out. I revelled in my victory over her. Pissing her off did me no good, because Father always took her side, but the satisfaction of prevailing over her was enough for me.

Soon, Eleanor returned to my room with another message.

"You pissed her off, didn't you? Father is calling you to his chambers."

I rolled my eyes and rolled off my bed. When mom was alive, Father used to be just 'Dad' and his 'chambers' was his room. We spoke to him and about him in a very formal manner, and I would have it no other way. I didn't bother trying to even appear sick because it wouldn't matter; Adline had him around her thumb, and what she said stood. I could bet my entire inheritance that marrying me off to Baron was her idea.

"What is the meaning of this behaviour?" He barked the second I walked into the room. Later, I would realize that those were the first words he spoke to me that day as we had not even said hello to each other since we woke.

"What behaviour, Father?"

"Why won't you dress to receive your suitor?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't know I had one."

Adline scoffed.

"Look, Anya, I'm in no mood to entertain your haughtiness. Go up to your room, get dressed and be ready to welcome Mr Baron. He has asked me for your hand."

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