Once Bitten Twice Shy Bitten 2 VK

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

Download the Book on the App

*January 7*

What was that dripping sound? It sounded like an echo, a noise from far away repeating itself in an effort to wake her up. What had happened?

Her eyes pulled open but she wasn't able to see much, her vision was foggy and her mind was blur. The car door fell open and she found herself struggling to crawl out, unsure of what was happening but all she knew was that she had to crawl and so she did. She kept crawling.

Her head pounded, eating at her strength as she pulled herself through the rough ground. As dizzy as she was, she could only recognise a few things; the horrible smell of smoke and the dark small cave sitting in the hills not very far from her.

Her groan was loud and painful. There was a sting in the lower part of her body that she couldn't assimilate at that moment and so she continued to crawl.

When she was finally in the cave, her hands began to wobble. They had taken her to the destination and couldn't do anything more. She begged them to let her go deeper into the cave but they were bent on their stance. And so she gave in.

After one last effort to remember what had happened or even who she was, Tiffany's head fell on the hard stony ground of the cave. The vertigo in her head had stopped and the stinging pain in her legs was no longer.

She laid in her faint. An arm supporting her small head and her legs shut tight. She laid unconscious and heavily asleep in the icy winter cold.

• • • • • • • • ֎ • • • • • • • •

Tiffany pounded on the half-glass half-wooden door, her heart racing uncontrollably. She was in a panic. The memory that had woken her up from her rest in the freezing cave. What had happened?

“Brea!” she called onto her long loyal secretary and best friend. “Brea, it's me, open the door.”

She pounded louder, trying not to think the worse of what had happened.

Images flashed through her mind. The gun on the driver's hand. The car smashing the side of the bridge. Christian's face when it toppled over. She quickly shut her eyes and blinked rapidly trying her very best not to think the worse. She had escaped, so maybe he did too.

She saw Brea's surprised gaze through the glass on the door and then heard her fumbling with the lock.

The door opened a crack and Brea's shocked face peeked around the edge. “Ma'am?” she asked with a confused frown.

Tiffany gazed at her, not exactly sure as to why she was so stupefied to see her.

“Miss Andrews!” Brea exclaimed, opening the door wider and embracing her ever so tightly.

Tiffany hugged her back, a glint of happiness softened her fear as she acknowledged the love of her secretary.

“What happened?” Brea asked, pulling her gently inside the house. “Where have you been?”

“I. . .” Tiffany couldn't find herself able to bring what had happened into words. Infact, only tiny pieces of it was in her mind at that moment. Certainly not enough pieces to complete a puzzle.

Brea gave her a mug of coffee, brushing her hair off the side of her face and dusting her cheek.

“You look rough, ma'am,” she said. “When we heard about the accident we. . .”

Tiffany hurriedly put that down the coffee, gulping the huge quantity that she had put in her mouth.

Read Now