THE QUEEN OF LIES

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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"You missed another celebration," Alina said, her voice steady but laced with something sharper.

Esme didn't raise her gaze. Picking at the bark with her fingernail, she sat at the base of the sacred oak. "Has anybody noticed?"

"Father did."

"Esme flung a piece of bark into the ground and mumbled, "Of course he did." Her gaze followed the stars that were visible through the branches above as she rested her head back against the rugged trunk. Alina took a step forward, her boots making no sound on the forest floor. "Esme, you can't continue doing this."

"Doing what?" Esme finally looked at her sister, her expression flat. "Existing?"

Alina didn't flinch, but her jaw tightened. "Avoiding everyone. Avoiding your place in the pack."

"Place?" Esme let out a hollow laugh. "What place? The one behind you? The one no one even sees?"

"That's not fair," Alina said, her voice sharper now.

"No," Esme shot back, standing abruptly. "What's not fair is spending your whole life being told you don't matter. That you're not enough."

Alina crossed her arms, her golden eyes steady and unyielding. "No one said you're not enough."

"They didn't have to," Esme replied. She stepped closer, her voice low but trembling. "It's in everything they do. Every time they look at me and see you."

Alina didn't answer right away, but her fingers clenched into fists at her sides. Rather, she looked about the clearing as though seeking a response that the sacred oak was refusing to provide.

"You can't let this eat you alive," Alina said at last. Her voice softened, but there was still steel beneath it. "The pack needs you, whether you believe it or not."

Esme shook her head. "No, Alina. They need you. The chosen twin. The one who will rule."

"And you're the one who will fall?" Alina's voice was quiet now, but her words carried the weight of the prophecy like an anchor between them.

Esme's eyes darkened. "Is that not what is prophesied to happen?"

Alina paused for the first time. She looked down at the ceremonial dagger at her waist, her fingertips brushing its polished hilt.

Her gaze locked with Esme's, firmly.

For a moment, Esme wanted to believe her, to imagine a world where they weren't pitted against each other by a prophecy neither had asked for. But she knew better.

"Go back to the party, Alina," Esme said, her voice tired. "Your pack is waiting."

Alina hesitated, her expression unreadable, before she turned and walked away.

Esme watched her go, the familiar ache in her chest settling like a stone.

The woodland fell silent again, except for the faint brush of leaves rustling in the wind. Esme dropped back to the ground and drew her knees to her chest as she stared at the sacred tree's scarred bark.

She and Alina had discussed this topic previously, and it would not be the last time. The same wall between them, the same tension, the same words. Even though they were identical twins, Esme occasionally questioned whether they had come from completely separate universes.

One twin will rule. One twin will fall.

The prophecy was always there, lingering like a shadow in her mind. It had defined everything-the way their father trained Alina relentlessly, the way the pack adored her, the way Esme was pushed aside, unnoticed and unneeded.

She tried to push those thoughts away by pressing her fingers to her face. Then a low, savage growl echoed across the air from deep in the forest.

Her wolf stirred, uneasy.

Esme rose to her feet, scanning the shadows beyond the clearing. "Alina?" she called, her voice trembling.

There was no answer, only silence. And then-another growl, closer this time.

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