Loving the Omega

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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Lyra Mitchell is the owner and operator of 'The Sweet Spot', a local bakery in New York. One day, when a little girl walks in, Lyra's life changes forever.

Brandon Cole is the CEO of Cole Enterprises. Rich and young, he is any girl's perfect man. And while Brandon had a wide selection of girls to choose from, he wasn't interested. The only girls who had a place in his heart were his mother and his daughter. But one little phone call changes it all.

Lyra

I had a batch of cupcakes in the oven, a cake to be frosted, and a line out the door. Holidays are always the busiest time for me, but Valentine's Day is the worst. Everyone wants chocolate dipped strawberries and heart shaped cakes. And since Valentines Day is tomorrow, I literally have a line out the door. Last I checked, it went half a block.

"Here you go Mr. Wonelski," I said as I handed the elderly man the same cupcakes he got his wife every year since I opened the shop.

"Thank you Lyra, you're the best."

I waved goodbye to my favorite customer and welcomed up the next while also juggling ovens and frosting and phone orders.

It went on like this until five o'clock when the shop closed and my line was gone. I went up to the front to lock the door when a small voice met my ears. "Hello?"

I jumped in shock and turned around. There, at my counter, was a little girl. She couldn't reach the top so I hadn't seen her. I wonder how long she'd been there.

"Hello sweetheart, how can I help you?"

I slowly approached the girl, who couldn't have been older than five, and knelt down in front of her. She had tears on her cheeks and her lip was wobbling. "I'm lost."

I wiped the girl's tears away and picked her up. "What's your name?" I asked as I placed her on the counter.

"Macie."

"Well Macie, would you like a cupcake?"

Macie nodded vigorously and her tears were instantly gone. Cupcakes fixed everything.

I handed the little girl one of the cupcakes I had just frosted. "What are your parents' names?" Maybe I could find a phone number online or something.

"My daddy is Brandon Cole," she said and I gasped. Brandon Cole is the richest man in New York. He probably has entire search parties out for this kid.

I pulled out my phone and looked up Cole Enterprises. I didn't know any other way to reach this man.

"Hello?" Came the voice of the receptionist.

"Um, hi," I started. "This is going to sound weird, but I have Mr. Cole's daughter."

"What?!"

"Sorry, sorry, not like that. She wandered into my bakery, lost."

"I'll transfer you to Mr. Cole."

The receptionist sounded worried and that made me worried.

The phone seemed to ring forever and with each second that passed, I grew more and more nervous. This is the most powerful man in New York, and I have his daughter. Not in a kidnappy way, but he could look at it like that.

"Hello?" Came a deep voice.

"Hi. I'm Lyra Mitchell, I own The Sweet Spot bakery and your daughter walked in here by herself a few minutes ago. I just wanted to find her parents and then she said it was you so I called your receptionist and now here we are." I laughed nervously after my rambling word vomit was done.

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