Perverse

The Billionaire's Secret Triplets: Mom's Revenge

HONEY MULLINS

Six years ago, I was a naive girl sold by my father to the powerful Sanders estate, only to be tossed onto the streets after a brutal assault they labeled "marital infidelity." I fled the country pregnant and broken, hiding from the shadow of a husband I had never even met. Now, I've returned to New York with my triplets to sign the final divorce papers and disappear forever. But Archibald Sanders-the man I was told was a crippled recluse-intercepted us with the cold precision of a predator. He didn't see the woman his family destroyed; he saw a gold-digger who had shamed his name. His security team hunted us to a grimy motel, using tactical force to snatch my children away and drag me to his glass-walled empire. In his office, he loomed over me, demanding a DNA test and threatening to throw me in prison while my babies were lost to the foster system. He was convinced I'd cheated, yet he stared at my sons with a haunting confusion, unable to ignore the stormy blue eyes that were a perfect mirror of his own. I stood there, paralyzed by his scent-the sharp tang of rain and expensive leather that triggered the icy dread of my worst nightmares. How could he accuse me of betrayal when he felt exactly like the monster who had shattered my life in that dark hotel room? "I'll sign anything," I sobbed, "just give me my kids." But the game changed when my five-year-old son hacked the tower's security, holding the skyscraper hostage to save me. In the chaos, a fragile, silent boy-Archibald's secret son-wandered into the room and reached for me as if I were his missing soul. Archibald's face turned to stone as he tore up the agreement and locked the doors. "Until I find out why my son is looking at you like that," he growled, "you aren't going anywhere."

Modern Mystery Revenge

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Maggie Johnson took pains to steer her wheelchair to the bedroom door with a gift in her hand. It was a mug she made by herself. In her mind, a DIY gift was the best, and the mug represented her sincerity.

It was Kevin Brown's birthday today, and she prepared a surprise for him.

He worked so hard every day and should still be asleep now. She wanted to see him in sleep. It had been half a month since she saw him last time.

When she reached the bedroom door, a woman's voice suddenly came out, "Kevin, are you really going to marry Maggie? She only has one leg left..."

Stunned, Maggie saw through a crevice that her fiancé, Kevin, and her stepsister, Tami Johnson cuddling each other on the bed...

"Yes, of course. Only through marriage would she give me the ring passed down from her mother." Sneered Kevin.

"Well, could you divorce her after getting what you want?" Tami looked up at him expectantly.

Kevin sneered, "Rather than a divorced wife, I only have a dead wife."

Tami giggled, "You are bad."

"Don't you like it?" He asked in a hoarse voice.

"No..." There was another round of passion.

Crack.

The mug slipped from Maggie's hand and smashed on the floor. In a fluster, she steered the wheelchair, but it was stuck and wouldn't move.

"Who's there?" In the room, Kevin asked suddenly, jumped off the bed, wrapped a towel around his lower body, ran out, and stiffened at the sight of Maggie.

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