Suits Aces 3

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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He sat quietly in the swivel chair while one hand played the red soft stress ball. He leaned back in his seat while waiting patiently for someone he hadn't talked to in a long time since after the Silver Game five years ago.

He rolled his eyes around his office. The place was spacious. The things he put in the office from the drawer, bookshelf, leather couches, glass centered table, paintings, cactus plant pot, computer sets, glass desk, air-conditioned environment, and his vintage cartridge were all expensive.

His gaze shifted to the door opening. He adjusted his eating, straightening his broad back. A woman with long straight hair like the color of the night entered. His deep dark blue eyes went to the woman"s outfit, a fitted purple tee shirt, high waist tattered black jeans, five inches black boots heels, and she's holding the black denim jacket on her arm.

"Am I too late, Windfall?" she asked him as she sat in the chair opposite him.

A broadened smile set on his face. "Not that long, Demise. And? Why does it bring you here?"

"I have something to ask of you," she said as the aura of her face changed. Gone is the bright smile and happy eyes settled on her face. Now he confirmed it's not as simple as what her expression look.

"What?" He seriously laid both arms on the desk, playing his chin with his hand.

He stared intently into her striking violet eyes. A natural inborn by her. Her red lips turn into a smirk. One of his eyebrows rose at what she did.

"I have something important to do. I'll leave my position being a leader for a year or so."

He could not believe what she had stated. What was it that made her leave for a few years?

"What! Are you serious of it, Demise?" His two eyebrows furrowed.

"Very serious, Windfall. About that thing, I'm going to beg you," she said while crossing her leg.

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