Billionaire Mr Stone by Bekky

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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I resist the urge to bite on my nails as I read through the newly updated company board.

The head seat has changed hands?

Worse, the new chairman who has just resumed the day before is already firing people like crazy.

It took a lot for me to get a job as the assistant of the chairman of Apex enterprise. It's been six days! Only six days and now this happens.

Sitting up, I scroll down and continue to read.

Alexander Stone is the grandson of the now ex-chairman of Apex enterprise.

Age of twenty eight and has recently returned from abroad.

That is all it says.

Closing the page, I wipe off the cold sweat clouding on my forehead.

Just six days ago I was overwhelmed with joy that I have finally landed a well paying job....and now....

'Is he going to fire me too?'

No. That can't happen.

I already signed the contract.

Everything has been stamped and there is no going back.

I really need this job, no matter what I can't afford to lose it. It took so much just for me to pass the interview. I had to fight tooth and nail against almost forty other candidates and it was sure a hellish experience.

Grabbing my phone from the desk, I enter the work group chat and like expected the main topic was on the new chairman that popped up without notice.

It seems that while I was out running errands yesterday the new chairman Alexander dropped by the company.

From the chats exchanged by those who ran into him, it isn't that hard to guess that he will be alot to handle.

"Vicky. Mom said to come down for dinner." I hear Ana's voice from outside the door and I turn off the computer, swerving around I holler.

"I am coming."

I carelessly toss my phone on the bed, which bounce hard from the strength, almost falling off the bed and giving me a heart attack.

"I need to stop doing that." I scold myself in a low voice.

That's how the last one broke.

Walking out of the room, I hurry down the stairs, heading straight for the dinning room.

"What's for dinner?" I ask more as I circle around the dinning table to take my seat.

"Pasta. Did you have something you would have liked to eat?" She asked taking off her bunny apron.

"Pasta is good." I shake my head, kicking Ana who was on her phone from under the table.

"Ouch. Why did you do that?" Ana glares at me and I gesture at her plate.

"Eat."

She mutters a string of complaints under her breath but still picks up her fork obediently.

"Come on, no fighting." Mom childes, then asks. "How was your week? The both of you?"

I could already see that coming. It is an habit of her's to make sure to ask that every Sunday.

"I hate school." Ana says quite honesty. She is sixteen and in highschool.

The smartest in her class I must add. Still she hates school.

We all hated school. Until you graduate and realize that handling a job is way worse.

"Work was fine. Pretty much everybody was nice to me." I state.

Although the chairman, who is now the ex-chairman would scold me, the old man is still kind in heart.

But now-who knows what will happen?

I let out a deep sigh, drowning my sorrows with the taste of the delicious, spicy pasta.

After eating, I go back to my room and take a bath. Changing into my spongebob squarepants pyjamas. I have just rolled into the bed and about to dive into sleep when I notice I have a new message in my phone.

The message is from an unknown number which makes me hesitate a little.

Sitting up, I tap on it, three long lines on work coming into view.

This is Alexander, save the number.

Submit on my desk tomorrow, the project analysis for the past six months.

Quick and simple.

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