Hailstorm

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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GABRIEL

I couldn't fucking believe I lost my mind again!

I woke up in an unfamiliar bed the next morning with a pounding head, and according to my memory, I had sex with this woman whose legs curled around my stomach. The last time I woke up in a stranger's bed, I found my face plastered across every front page of a tabloid and the web with the most outrageous title.

CEO of Stark Apparel Inc. Gabriel Stark Spotted in A Hotel with A Senator's Daughter Having a Scandalous Affair!

Clearly, they only target me because of my reputation and my popularity in the corporate world. The woman in the tabloid wasn't even a Senator's daughter, she was a Mayor's daughter. This was why I don't fucking believe in the news. They obviously just wanted to sell out papers. The past few years had been chaotic enough as if I was some kind of a celebrity. I was a businessman, not a fucking Hollywood actor.

I carefully moved her leg aside. I slowly crawled out of the bed, trying not to make any sound. I quickly get dressed, picked up a sheet of tissue paper and a pen from my suit jacket.

Thank you for letting me devour your pussy last night, even though I couldn't remember much — G

Before I managed to exit, I pulled out my phone and checked the messages from an unknown number. It was Wednesday today, so it was Cate. Tuesdays and Thursdays are Megan days. I opened one of the messages.

See you tonight, handsome.

I texted a reply, Can't wait. See you, Cate.

She replied a heart.

***

Ten minutes after ten, I still couldn't get a sight of my executive assistant. She was supposed to be in my office at nine. What the hell was she doing on her desk? I was finished talking with people she was supposed to contact. I already made my coffee and set a meeting with my designers. Given the fact that she was late again this morning, she literally just lived across the street. She never ceased to amaze me with her unacceptable excuses as to why she couldn't be on time.

I wanted to give her a chance because her she was recommended by a friend. I began to wonder if my thoughts of her being an incompetent employee were true. Another twenty minutes of impatiently waiting, I called her desk.

"Mr. Stark, how may I help you?" she answered right away.

"I told you to be here in my office at nine. It's almost eleven."

"Oh, I am so, so sorry, Mr. Stark. I'm on my way."

She hung up, and within a minute, she stepped into my office carrying a portfolio. She put it on my desk and sat across me.

"Mr. Stark?"

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"What is it, Ms. Will?"

She leaned closer. "I saw you last night, " she whispered.

I frowned. "Last night? Last night where?"

"At the Carlyle with a redhead. Seeing you there made me think that what they are saying about you is true. I mean, how do you do it? Sleeping with so many women when I see you here every day?"

I stared back at her.

"I just wanted to know what kind of a boss you are." She leaned back in the chair, "At least tell me the details in case people ask me about you. I mean, I can create a so-so story about you just to wrap the truth, right?"

"Can we not talk about this, Ms. Will?"

"Wait." She held up her hand. "I just really want to know about your sex life, " her voice lowered down, "I can look past the non-fraternization policy in case you want to try me in your bedroom. I can do everything that might please you. I don't mind if you leave me in a hotel room since we're going to meet again in the office anyway. Sounds fun, yeah?"

What the fuck!

"Ms. Wills, if you love your job, you might want to shut your mouth and let's start working." I rolled my eyes. "I need you to explain to me these designs so ask them to do their next step, can we do that?"

"Then after that, I can go?"

I clenched my fist. Can I just fire this woman?

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