Worthless to Priceless The Alphas Rejected Mate

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 Kickass Heroine Hidden identities Revenge

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Mira's POV

My bleeding fingers stung, evoking in me the tears I have managed to keep at bay. I wiped away the tears mixed with sweat incurred from relentless work.

My stomach grumbled in hunger. The pangs I felt in my lower abdomen made it impossible for me to straighten my back as I continued scrubbing the floor as I've been doing for over three hours now.

"Hey there, Mute Mira!" I heard Martha's voice and flinched. I lifted my eyes, meeting her hard glare.

She dropped a pile of clothes and soap. I clenched my fist in anger as I already understood what I'm supposed to do with it.

She turned to leave, but I held her feet, dragging her back.

"Don't you dare touch me with those filthy hands of yours, you low life servant," Martha shrugged and stepped on my hand, bruising it the more.

Tears streamed down my eyes as I watched her walk away. She had promised to give me food as soon as I was done, but now, she has added more chores.

I chuckled mockingly as I wondered when I would stop living such a pathetic life.

The only wrong I have done in life is being an omega and losing my parents at a young age. With no family to claim me, and no relatives to take care of me.

I became the property of the pack, tossed and used by anyone. They all treat me like a servant, not caring about how I feel.

As if that wasn't enough, the moon goddess has decided to punish me for reasons I'm yet to understand. I'm yet to have a wolf.

More tears streamed down my face as I continued to scrub the floor, with feelings of pain all over my body.

***

I yawned and stretched my body as I dried the last set of clothes. I dragged my feet and found my way to one of the rocks in the garden.

I heard indistinct chatters and murmurs from afar as I leaned against the wall. I struggled to keep my eyes open, as I wouldn't dare to doze off. Martha will make my life a living hell if I don't stay up and watch the cloth dry out completely.

Besides, I'm waiting for the maids and servants assigned to the kitchen to retire to the servants' quarters so I can get some leftover food. It's the best I would be able to get anyway.

I sat there reminiscing on how hard my life has been. And it doesn't seem like it's going to get any better. With the kind of hatred the Alpha has for me? I would probably die as a servant in this pack with no one to save me.

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