Mafia Damians Bride

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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LUCA.

“Is this a joke?!” I snap at the man sitting on the leather arm chest with an expressionless face, as if he hasn't just told me to ruin my life. “After everything? Now you mention your old pact?! What do you take me for?!”

“I take you to be my son who would do anything to ensure that our family remains at the top,” he responds.

“You are asking me to throw my life away! To marry a woman I have never even met!” I snap back.

“I am asking you to ensure the continuity of two bloodlines, ensuring that the power of the Romano family, our family, will not dwindle. Listen, Luca. Rocco, is an old friend of mine, we built this town and our empires side by side. It is unfortunate that he has only been blessed with a daughter but that has worked in our favor! He has promised to hand over his entire fortune to her on her wedding day, to you, to our family? Do you have any idea what that means?!”

“Dammit!” I snarl as I whirl around. “And fuck you for doing this to me,” I say again as I turn back to him, anger flooding through my veins. “Now of all days. You could have told me about this when I was busy proving myself to you all these years,you could have prepared me!”

“It didn't seem to be the right time.”

“Didn't seem to be - Fuck! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Fuck you!” I snap as I whirl away, slamming the door behind me.

Unbelievable.

Just unbelievable.

I had done everything.

Every bloody thing he had asked.

I had infiltrated our rival family from the ground up, despite how risky it was I did it.

I crippled them.

Go to another country and set up a fraudulent scheme.

No worries.

Train in one of the most deadly assassin's sects for three years?

No problem.

On and on it went, for eighteen years I have carried out impossible trials and instructions and succeeded at everything.

All so that I can be worthy to one day step in his shoes, first becoming the consigliere and then the Don.

And now, today that should be one of celebrating my promotion, he tells me I have one final instruction.

To get married.

And not just to any woman, no, to the daughter of Rocco Bertelli, a girl that is rumored to have absolutely no inclinations or sympathies with the Mafia world.

“How the hell am I supposed to convince her?” I snarl to myself as I walk into the hall only to be startled by a champagne cork nearly taking off my head.

I am still catching myself when the deafening cheers of the crowd reaches my ears.

Right.

This is a celebration night.

“Congratulations, Luca!” Enzo, my close friend and right hand man, cheers as he pats me on the back. “Now, Signore(Mr.) Romano won't have any reason to delay you any further.”

I scoff as I reach for a champagne flute.

“You would think so,” I mutter as I gulp the contents down all at once.

“Oh no,” he says as he takes in my countenance. “What did he say this time? I mean, you were brilliant! Playing the French government like that and leaving them no recourse but to let you go is a sign of pure genius, surely even he has to admit that.”

“Oh, he admitted it alright,” I reply as I turn to face him.“Then what is the issue?” “The issue is that now, I am to get married.”

“Shit,” he says in a wince. “To who?”

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