Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance

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 Kickass Heroine Hidden identities Revenge

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My name is Jasamina McCully and I am twenty years old.

Two years ago, my parents forced me to marry a rich congressman named Ludale McCully. A forty-five year old man that turned out to be the most abusive man on the whole planet.

"To save my family from poverty." My mother had said to me as she pushed me to marry the forty-five year old man. I was crying and begging my parents but they didn't listen. I was just a means to an end.

He abused and beat me within an inch of my life for the past two years. Everytime I get the chance, I try to escape and every single time he finds me.

Then, he punishes me for ever trying to leave. The punishment is always worst than death. Because of that, I never tried to escape again.

My name is Jasamina and I am a girl afraid of her husband because I know what he can do. But I'm also a mother.

After giving birth to my baby two months ago and loving him with my whole life...I know a time will come when I have to choose between being scared of my husband or trying to survive with my little boy.

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