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The Runaway Wife: Hiding His Secret Triplets
Five years ago, I stood in the freezing rain at my mother's funeral, waiting for my husband. Blake Knight, the billionaire NHL superstar, was two hours late. When he finally showed up, he brought his rumored girlfriend, the woman he had just rented a hotel rooftop for to celebrate her birthday. Watching him defend her fake tears, my heart completely died. I took off my diamond wedding ring, placed it on my mother's headstone, and walked away from my marriage forever. I fled to London, changed my name to Ava, and secretly raised the triplets he never knew existed. I thought I was finally safe from him. But today, my kids vandalized a silver Aston Martin in our apartment's parking garage, and the owner caught my youngest daughter. My phone rang. The voice on the other end was Blake's. He had moved into my building, and he was holding my little girl in his penthouse, demanding her mother come get her immediately. Panic suffocated me. If I walked through that door, my five years of hiding would be instantly destroyed. He would recognize me, realize I didn't get rid of our child like everyone thought, and he would use all his power to take my babies away. I couldn't let him ruin my life again. "I'm just her nanny," I lied through my teeth. I frantically begged my best friend to go upstairs and rescue my daughter in my place. He bought the disguise, but now, the King of the Ice is dangerously obsessed with investigating my new identity.Romance FamilyModernSingle parentTripletsHidden IdentitiesBillionaireSecond ChanceAthleteSports Romance (Hockey/Football/Soccer/MMA/Swimming)
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The desert heat of Coachella was intense, but I was ready for a day of music and fun, especially knowing my boyfriend, Jake, was five hours away, supposedly stuck in the library studying for a huge exam.
My phone buzzed in my hand, a small notification flashing: "Connected to Jake' s iPhone."
My heart stopped.
He was here, his personal hotspot active, confirming the lie.
Then, the crowd cam zoomed in, and my face filled the giant screens.
A mic was thrust into my hand, and in front of thousands, I asked for my 'lost' boyfriend, describing his distinctive Nirvana shirt and backward cap.
Everyone played along in a giant 'Where' s Waldo,' until the cameras found him: Jake, in a VIP cabana, kissing a blonde girl in a tiny pink top.
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The Mic Drop Queen: My Unapologetic Rise
The desert heat of Coachella was intense, but I was ready for a day of music and fun, especially knowing my boyfriend, Jake, was five hours away, supposedly stuck in the library studying for a huge exam. My phone buzzed in my hand, a small notification flashing: "Connected to Jake' s iPhone." My h
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