Roughneck

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

At the Barrett family's residence in Shirie.

The grand living room on the first floor buzzed with conversation, guests swirling glasses of champagne as they exchanged pleasantries. A towering banner with the words "Welcome Home, Beloved Daughter" stretched across the entrance.

Meanwhile, in the cramped, airless attic on the third floor, Brenna Barrett was packing her belongings.

Alec Barrett, Brenna's adoptive father, stood before her, an envelope in his hand. He set it down gently before Brenna, his face lined with feigned reluctance.

"Brenna, why must it come to this?" he said. "Yes, we've found our biological daughter, but that doesn't mean you have to leave. You know our family's wealth—taking care of one more person isn't a burden. If you ask me, you should stay. Your mom and I will treat you no differently than before. But if you're determined to leave, I won't stop you. Still, your family is barely scraping by. I doubt they can even send a car to pick you up. Take this money—at least let it cover your travel expenses."

Brenna's eyes flicked to the slim envelope. She was already certain it held no more than a thousand dollars. Without a hint of hesitation, she pushed it back toward Alec, her expression cold. "I don't need it. My parents have already sent a car for me."

She scoffed inwardly. What a laughable attempt to make her stay. Persuading her to stay while already offering her travel money?

The Barrett family had taken her in when she was barely past her second birthday, a replacement for the daughter Ruby Barrett had lost—a child stolen from the hospital the day she was born. Drowning in grief, Ruby had grasped at the idea of adoption, convincing herself it would ease the ache of her loss.

But Brenna had never been a daughter for the Barrett family in anything more than name. She had spent her childhood in hand-me-downs from discount racks, scraping by on leftovers while serving as a servant in the Barrett household.

When she had gotten older, Alec had stumbled upon her natural flair for design. Even her casual sketches outshone those of seasoned professionals, their market value undeniable.

That was when everything changed. The Barrett family had stopped her from going to school. She had become their hidden asset, locked away to draft blueprints for car parts and even entire vehicles. They knew exactly how much of their wealth was earned by her.

Without Brenna, they would have never broken into Shirie's elite circles, never had the means to throw this lavish welcome party for their biological daughter, with influential figures from all walks of life attending.

And now that their fortune had just begun to flourish, they didn't want to keep Brenna anymore. The Barretts were eager to kick her out of the family, their selfishness laid bare.

Alec sighed and shoved the envelope into Brenna's bag.

He said, "They've sent a car to pick you up? I find that hard to believe. I looked into your biological family. Your parents have two sons, and your only uncle is bedridden, unable to care for himself. They live in a struggling village—barely making ends meet. They don't have the luxury to come pick you up. You've been living in comfort here, spending freely. Are you sure you're ready for that kind of hardship? Just take the money..."

Brenna pulled the envelope out of her bag and placed it on the table with quiet finality. "Goodbye."

Read Now