His Dangerous Obsession

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.

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Emily's eyes scanned the crowded coffee shop, her mind racing with the events of the past week. She had been receiving strange messages and feeling like she was being watched. Shaking off the feeling, she focused on her laptop screen, trying to meet the looming deadline for her project.

As she typed away, a sudden chill ran down her spine. She felt a presence behind her and spun around, but there was no one there. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she sensed someone's gaze on her.

That's when she saw him – a tall, brooding figure standing by the window, his piercing eyes fixed intently on her. Emily's heart skipped a beat as their eyes met, and she felt an inexplicable jolt of electricity run through her body.

Who was this stranger, and why was he staring at her with such intensity? Emily's instincts screamed at her to get out of there, but her feet seemed rooted to the spot.

The stranger's gaze held hers for what felt like an eternity before he finally looked away, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for something – or someone.

Emily's breath caught in her throat as she wondered if she was in danger. She quickly gathered her belongings and made a hasty exit, the stranger's piercing eyes seared into her memory.

Little did she know, her life was about to take a dramatic turn, and the stranger's eyes would be the least of her worries.

As Emily rushed out of the coffee shop, she couldn't shake off the feeling that the stranger's eyes were still on her. She quickened her pace, weaving through the crowded streets of downtown.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" a passerby exclaimed as Emily accidentally bumped into him.

"Sorry!" Emily apologized, not breaking her stride. She was too busy scanning the surrounding area, searching for any sign of the stranger.

Finally, she reached the safety of her apartment building and burst through the front door, gasping for breath. She slammed the door shut behind her and leaned against it, her heart still racing.

What was wrong with her? Emily thought, trying to calm herself down. It was just a weird encounter with a stranger. But the memory of those piercing eyes lingered, making her skin crawl.

Shaking off the feeling, Emily made her way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. As she reached for the faucet, she noticed a piece of paper on the counter with a note scrawled on it:

"They're watching you."

Emily's blood ran cold. Who wrote this? And what did they mean?

Suddenly, the strange messages and feeling of being watched made sense. Someone was indeed watching her, and they were trying to send her a warning.

But who? And why?

Emily's mind was racing with questions as she stood there, frozen in fear.

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Here's the continuation of Chapter 1:

Emily's eyes scanned the apartment, searching for any signs of intrusion. Everything seemed to be in order, but the note had left her with a sense of unease.

She tried to shake off the feeling, telling herself it was just a prank. But the words on the note lingered in her mind: "They're watching you."

Suddenly, Emily heard a faint noise coming from the living room. It sounded like someone was moving around. Her heart racing, Emily slowly made her way towards the sound.

As she entered the living room, she saw a figure standing by the window. It was the stranger from the coffee shop.

"What are you doing here?" Emily demanded, trying to keep her voice steady.

The stranger turned to face her, his eyes piercing in the dim light. "I'm here to protect you," he said, his voice low and mysterious.

"Protect me from what?" Emily asked, her mind racing with questions.

The stranger's eyes seemed to bore into her soul. "From them," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "They're coming for you, Emily."

Emily's heart skipped a beat. Who was this stranger, and what did he know about her?

"What do you mean?" Emily asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

But before the stranger could answer, Emily heard the sound of footsteps coming from outside her apartment. Heavy, deliberate footsteps.

The stranger's eyes locked onto Emily's. "It's them," he whispered. "We have to get out of here. Now."

Emily's heart racing, she followed the stranger as he quickly moved towards the door. He peeked through the peephole, his expression grim.

"What's going on?" Emily whispered urgently.

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