The Man I love

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.

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Isabella got down from her Rolls-Royce, impatient to see her husband. She had just received good news from the hospital.

What better day to share the news with her husband than on the night of their anniversary?

As soon as she alighted, she waited for the driver to move the car forward for proper parking before she moved towards the mansion.

My husband would be so happy to know that I am pregnant.

As she approached the door, she grinned at the thought of how her husband would feel once she told him about the baby growing inside of her.

She found the door wasn't locked and pushed inside gently, wondering why it was left open.

"Babe," she called in the living room but didn't get any response – only echoes of her own voice.

She went straight into their bedroom, and what she found left her in shock for seconds.

Her husband, the man whose baby is growing inside of her, was lying naked in bed with another woman.

It was as though she had been struck by lightning when she realised the woman was Tracy, her husband's ex-fiancée, whom he claimed he was done with.

Her husband was wasted in bed, perhaps from the alcohol which took over the room or from the round they just had, or even both. Despite her conspicuous presence, he didn't act as though she existed. He didn't even look at her.

Tracy didn't try to stand up after being caught; she just lay there as his arms wrapped around her waist.

Tracy kissed Alexander's forehead, letting her know that they didn't care about her presence.

Anger rushed through her as she felt betrayed by the man she had given up everything for. She never saw this coming. She had thought Alexander was among the few decent men on earth, but she was wrong. Men are indeed scum.

Since she married her husband, she had to quit her job as a secretary because her husband didn't approve of her working.

At that time, she didn't see anything wrong in it. After all, her husband was a billionaire who could take care of her. But as time went on, she became bored, and it dawned on her that she had married a domineering husband who didn't care about her feelings as a woman. He always wanted things done his own way and didn't really care much about what his woman wanted.

At first, she considered it normal, thinking that all men liked to be in control. But then she slowly realised he was kind of possessive and barely allowed her to speak with strangers outside of her maid, cook, driver, and other staff.

She tried to get used to life, telling herself that she has a good life that every woman of her age dreamed of and that she doesn't have anything to worry about, as her husband provides everything she needs. But it wasn't long until she realised she'd been lying to herself.

Work was the only language she understood and her go-to place to relieve life's jabs. She has always been working since she was a teenager. Her father died at a young age, and she was forced to assist her mother, who worked as a house help for a rich man.

Her hard work and consistency took her through college. Before meeting Alexander, she used to be independent, but she seemed new to the world Alexander is showing her.

The man appeared cold sometimes, distant, rigid, and arrogant, but deep down, she felt that he loved and cared for her deeply. Or so she thought

She continued to hide her pain deep down, she continued to be a loving and obedient woman to her husband, even if it meant giving up her own life and dreams of someday managing a big company.

What does she need that for anyway when she married a wealthy man?

But now that she stood at the entrance of their bedroom, her legs shook.

How could I give up life to this liar and cheat? Uncontrolled tears washed down her face. She has been betrayed.

But never again. She wouldn't allow any man ever to treat her like this again. She vowed to protect her baby from the man.

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