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.

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"Philip, this is the divorce agreement. I've already signed it. Please give it to Carlos."

Debbie Nelson plucked up her courage and handed the signed agreement to Philip Brown, the steward of the Hilton family.

Philip was shocked by the words "divorce agreement". His first thought was that Debbie wanted to get a divorce so as to carve up the property that belonged to Carlos Hilton.

But as he looked through the document, he saw that she wanted to give up everything, including her share of the mutual property.

Philip heaved a heavy sigh. "Debbie, why are you being ridiculous? Why would you want to divorce Mr. Hilton and even choose to give up your property?"

Debbie was only a college student, and she had no parents. It was unwise for her to ask for a divorce now, much less give up her property that was worth quite a fortune.

Embarrassed, Debbie looked away and scratched the back of her head. "Carlos and I have been married for three years, but our marriage only exists on paper. I don't want to waste my time on him anymore," she admitted, instead of hiding the reason from Philip.

She had a life of her own. She did not want this nominal marriage to take her youth.

In her eyes, Carlos was merely a stranger whom she had never met literally, so she had nothing to lose if she let him go. Besides, this marriage was arranged by her late parents. She had no feelings for it at all.

"I see. It seems that you've already made up your mind. Today... No. I will give this to Mr. Hilton tomorrow."

Debbie let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Philip," she uttered with a lovely smile on her face.

Philip stood up to leave. But before he took a step, he turned to Debbie and stated, "Debbie, Mr. Hilton is a good man. In my opinion, you two are a perfect match. I hope you think it through again."

'A perfect match?' Debbie repeated in her mind. But she had not even seen her husband in the past three years. Even if they were a perfect match, so what?

A bitter smile formed on her lips. She took a deep breath and firmly replied, "Phillip, I've made up my mind."

The next afternoon, Phillip still had not received a call from Debbie. He had expected her to regret her hasty decision to get a divorce or at least add some conditions to the agreement. However, she did not.

Resigned, Philip took out his phone and dialed a number. As soon as he was connected to Carlos, he said, "Mr. Hilton, there's a document that needs your signature."

"What kind of document?" Carlos asked indifferently.

Philip hesitated for a moment before answering, "It's... a divorce agreement."

Carlos, who was dealing with some papers in his office, stiffened.

It was only then that he remembered he had a wife.

As Phillip received no response from the other end of the line, he suggested, "Mr. Hilton, why don't you talk with Mrs. Hilton about it?"

"How much does she want?" Carlos asked coldly.

"Nothing. She even wishes to give up her share of your mutual property."

"She wants to give up everything?"

"That's right. But Mr. Hilton, I would like to remind you that your father is not in good health at the moment. If he finds out about this, he will lose his temper again. What's more, if the news that your wife has abandoned you spreads, I'm afraid it will leave a bad impact on you and the company," Philip concluded calmly.

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