COME TO ME

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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Summer had just arrived in Northville.

A light drizzle pattered on the glass window, startling a woman from her slumber.

Caressing the dark gray blanket with her fingertips, Amelia Ramsay opened her eyes. At the same time, the bathroom door in the hotel suite opened and out came a tall man wrapped in a bath towel and surrounded by hot vapour.

Casually glancing at Amelia's pretty face, Patrick Hopper asked half-heartedly, "Do you still remember what happened last night?"

She was stunned for a while, then sat up with the blanket in her arms and said faintly, "Yes... I remember."

Last night, Amelia was in the bar trying to drink her sorrows away. Next thing she knew, she was already in some random strangers' arms. One thing led to the other, they spent the night together in the hotel.

The memory fragments gradually started flowing back into Amelia's mind. And every frame of them was the reminder that she had lost her virginity because of alcohol.

Looking at Amelia, who did not move a muscle, from above, Patrick thought she was trying to cling to him. He confessed emotionlessly, "Last night, I thought you were an escort."

Amelia couldn't help but raised her neatly trimmed eyebrows. She checked out his masculine body and gave a cold grin, "That makes the two of us, mister. I thought you were a male prostitute."

Patrick's eyes, which were like two pristine stones of onyx, narrowed down at her, "Since it was consensual, I'm sure you won't have a problem if we part ways now?"

Her beautiful eyes turned to the direction of the door. "Sure, be my guest."

Amelia's carefree attitude made Patrick ponder. If he had not seen the blood stain on the quilt, he would have thought last night was not her first night with a man.

Yesterday was the first day that Patrick returned to the Northville. Last night, his friends asked him to hang out in a bar. He never thought he would be entangled with a drunken woman right after he left his booth.

He was not in the mood for romance at first, but he could not help it after meeting Amelia's flirtatious eyes. Having his friends trying to be his wingmen, he was already on a hotel bed by the time he realized what had happened.

When Patrick walked into the shower after the fun, he wanted to send the one-night-stand away with some money. Never would he fathom that Amelia actually could not wait for him to leave, let alone asking him to answer for his actions.

It seemed that he had not been back to Northville for too long. She did not even know who he is. However, he could not rule out the possibility that this woman was just playing dumb.

With his eyes, Patrick pierced through Amelia, who had skin as light and soft as the moonlight. He reminded her, "Do you still remember what you need to do? I don't want any trouble from you."

Amelia Ramsay's smirk remained the same with a thread of sarcasm in her tone, "Thanks for the reminder."

Bearing a stranger's child? Well, she was not interested.

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