Seductive MrBillionaire

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

EMMA

The tenth shrill scream comes from my lips as I close my eyes, trying to control or have some sort of control over the pain I am feeling right now.

I close my eyes, biting my lips hard, not caring when I feel the burning and the taste of blood in my mouth.

All I want more than anything is for this absurd pain to end at once because I feel like I am about to pass out at any moment. That's when I think about how reckless I was nine months ago, after a drunken night out.

But I repeat for the second time that now is not the right time to try to feel any regret, and as hard as I try, I can't regret what that night brought me.

“Try to breathe; the baby will be here soon, Emma!”, I hear my friend's voice from beside me as the nurses push the wheelchair. I am being wheeled into the delivery room.

A night of hot sex earned me an unexpected pregnancy from a stranger. It was my first time, and I gave my own body to someone I had never seen in my entire life.

To say it was good is an understatement, but here I am today, about to give birth to my first child, a single mother, and not knowing anything about my baby's father other than a single name.

Alex.

A new scream makes me bite my lips harder. Feeling the tears streaming down my face as I am carried down a long corridor of the maternity part of the hospital, I repeat a new sequence of breathing and sobbing with each new contraction.

I touch my belly, covered by the dress I am wearing, thinking that at some point tonight I will meet the little face of my beloved baby.

“Oh my god!”, I grunted, squeezing my best friend's hand for some support.

"You can do it, Emma! Let's meet our, Benjamin."

I nod my head, almost screaming at the nurse who is pushing me in the wheelchair to go faster. I am out of patience and feeling extreme pain, but my heartbeat seems to stop when my eyes fixate on a person.

This can't be happening, God!

It's him!

The unbearable pain of feeling my child being born seems to fade for a second when I see none other than the man who is the father of my baby.

Time seems to freeze around me when I see him talking to the receptionist at the hospital counter. He looks exactly like the handsome man I met that night.

I don't blink when the nurse asks the people in front of us to excuse me; I grab Coral's hand, and just as I am about to say that finally the miracle has happened, my expectations are shattered in a few seconds when something unexpected happens.

He can't see me, but I see that when a woman in a long dress approaches holding a baby in her lap, he smiles broadly before taking the child from the woman's lap and holding the baby, visibly moved.

Read Now