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

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"So, you mean to tell me I am pregnant?!"

"Yes, Mrs. Babatunde. Accept my congratulations."

"Thank you so much, Doc." Her doctor smiled a bright smile and sent her on her way, she couldn't sit still in the car. She wanted to share the good news with her husband. They had been trying to get pregnant for about a year. And now, it was finally here. Amaka decided she would go to his office instead and switched routes.

Amaka all but ran into the building, trying her best to get to Dolapo in time without tripping on her feet. When she got to the office, she saw that they were on their lunch break. She quickly got into the elevator and made her way to Dolapo's office. as she expected, she didn't meet his secretary so she went straight to his office. Amaka paused in her steps when she began to hear sounds that should only be coming from their bedroom.

"Ah…fuck…Dolapo!!!"

"Ungh!!!"

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