Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance

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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Royal City Hotel.

The most luxurious high-end private club in A city.

Alice Oliver was very dizzy after drinking. She stood at the end off the corridor on the 22nd floor and looked at the room number in front of her. She laughed.

2218.

Exactly.

This was the exact room number she bore in mind.

Pushing open the unlocked door, she stumbled into the room.

There was no light in the room, and it was dark. Alice scanned the room, and her eyes finally fell in the direction near the window, where there was a flickering light.

It was the man who was smoking.

Alice managed to stabilize her shaking body and she grinned, "I... I'm here."

She got a burp of wine the moment she spoke, and it came from her throat out of her control.

She quickly covered her mouth, pinched her little finger and stroked, "I only... had a little wine, hah."

Alice couldn't see the man's face clearly, but she obviously felt that his cold and gloomy air was coming right to her. She took a step back unconsciously, and suddenly sobered up a little.

But after that, the effects of drink came back to her. She didn't keep her balance and fell hard against the wall. Her back was hurt, so she couldn't help making a "hiss" sound.

The man stared at the little girl who had intruded into the room. She stood in the yellow light at the door. The black swallow-tail dress was swaying behind her, showing her beautiful legs, absolutely charming. The heavy make-up on her face was like the gorgeous coat wrapping a snow-white rose, giving people a desire to peel it off and explore the unexpected.

The man suppressed his instinctive curiosity and asked calmly.

"How did you get in?" The 22nd floor of the hotel was not a place for a drunken mad woman to walk around.

The man's voice was very magnetic, and seemed to be able to absorb the souls of people. Alice had to admit that he had a nice voice.

"The waiter has a good taste. When he saw this necklace, he thought that I was a VIP guest who could come in and out of the 22nd floor." Alice pointed to the necklace on her neck. The diamond ring on the necklace was of great value.

Just then, the man's cell phone rang.

It was a short message.

The man picked up his phone at once, and the light of the screen shone on his face. He lowered his head, and Alice could only see his manly outline strongly defined under the bright light.

Although she couldn't see clearly, she still could tell that this man had a gorgeous face.

She didn't expect that she would be dealing with a handsome young man.

A man who had the dirty idea to deal with bodies was definitely a scum of bad character and behavior.

Alice jumped to a conclusion in her heart.

The man was staring at the screen of his cell phone, and the message on it read --Carlos, I am sorry.

Sender, Jane Smith.

The man's hand shook slightly. The next moment, he blacklisted the person who sent the text message decisively.

When Alice saw the man hadn't said anything after a long while, she supported her drowsy head and asked in a very low voice, "We... Can we start now?"

The man sneered, "I'm not interested in a woman with an overpowering smell of alcohol."

Alice became nervous. She was just drinking to boost her courage. It took her forever to organize her words and then she said, "Please wait a minute. I'll wash it off."

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