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

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Edmund - fortunate protector, wealthy guardian

Thea - God's gift

It was cold. My skin was freezing under my torn and dirty tunic. I could feel fine raindrops falling on me. It was more like a fog, making everything look gloomy and grey and making me shiver in my humid clothing. I suppose it was midday. I don't know. I haven't lifted my eyes for hours. The only thing that indicated it, was constantly growing chatting and shouting around me. People were coming to the marketplace to get some goods - vegetables, fruits, tools, and slaves. And I was one of them. A slave. I think that is the only purpose for me in my short life. Since I can remember, I have been working as a slave. I think it will be for seven years. Though, sometimes I am not even sure about it. I have never attended a school or learned anything useful, reading, counting. Just basic stuff, but not enough to function on my own. Right now I was sitting on a tiny stack of hay, waiting for somebody to buy me. I didn't want to go to another place. I just wanted to not exist. No one has ever taken care of me. I had to endure the hard work, everywhere I went. Different owners, different rich people houses. But the attitude everywhere was the same - cold and cruel. Like I was not a human. They beat me, gave me food, just enough for me to stay alive. I was living worse than a dog. I just wanted to die. There is nothing in my life, that keeps me here. I will not survive in another place. This time I will not last.

I could hear some people talking near me, discussing the prices for other ones, that were here with me. I hold my head low and made no eye contact with anyone. I didn't want to be chosen.

I felt someone's hand examining my black, greasy hair. I didn't bother to look up. I just wanted them to leave.

"We are buying this one!" I heard the voice of a young boy.

"Why! Look, she is tiny, just skin and bones. She will not last long. You don't need her. We can find someone better if you need." a low man's voice responded to him.

"Dad, I said I want her."

A boy sounded so confident. Like he held some power over everyone else. Even over his father, I assumed. His statement was clear, his voice stern and demanding. I felt his small hand touch my shoulder, as he shook me to get my attention, but I gave him none. I just didn't want to be chosen.

"Hey, look at me!" he ordered.

I didn't budge.

"See, she is totally disobedient. You are gonna regret if you take her." his old man said again.

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