Marry A Billionaire

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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The night. Heavy rain, strong wind, thunder, and lightning.

Livi Taylor is dragging suitcases, wandering in the rain.

"Livi, Peter Benson didn't divorce you because he won the lottery for fifteen billion. It was because you failed to fulfill your wife's obligations."

"Livi Taylor, do you mind? I've been wanting to talk about divorce for a long time. You don't want a divorce. Do you still want to divide the inheritance?" Livi Taylor's face was not clear whether it was rain or tears.

Blurry eyes.

When crossing the street, there was a silver Bentley car rushing over. She was so sad that she didn't notice the car headlights shining directly on her.

It wasn't until the car was about to come in front of her that she reacted, but her mind was stagnant, standing still, watching the vehicle directly drive towards her.

Ket —

Silver Bentley quickly changed direction. He could see the skillful skill of the car owner. Because the speed was too fast, he accidentally hit the barrier.

Livi Taylor stood where she was, her heart pounding wildly.

The silver Bentley hit the fence and stopped moving.

It's late at night, the place is quiet, no traffic.

Livi Taylor stood still for a few seconds before reacting, raised her hand to wipe the tears from her face, then threw her suitcase and ran to the silver Bentley.

In the dark car, Livi Taylor lay face down on the window of the car, vaguely seeing the figure of a man lying on the steering wheel.

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