The Juan That Got Away

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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Stella stared down at her phone screen, her mind trying to decipher what was being written in the form of a text message.

She re-read the message again just to be sure that she wasn't reading wrongly. Apparently it was a break up text from her boyfriend, ex-boyfriend if you may choose to call him that, his name was Derrick.

It wrote: Stella, to be honest I don't think I can do this anymore. You don't never bother yourself to open up to me, heck you don't even try to discuss your feelings with me. And so I have decided to end things with you, I can't be with someone that's emotionally unavailable. This is goodbye.

She switched off her phone and placed it on her on the table, she felt tears pricked at the corner of her eyes but held it back due to her not wanting to ruin the make-up that took hours to create on her face. Plus it wasn't waterproof anyways.

She inhaled and exhaled, using her fingers to gently caress her temples and then softly run them through her hair. There was a knock on the door followed by a voice telling her that her break time was up, and she needed to get back on set.

She stood up from the chair, with her phone in her hand, she looked at the mirror and put on a smile, for everyone to see and think that she was ok.

You don't need him. You never needed him anyways. You only need yourself.

She kept on repeating it in her head like a mantra, even as she went outside, as the makeup artist retouched her face, as she stood behind the white background. Even as the camera man took her picture, she kept saying those words: You don't need him!

****

The photoshoot was over, and it was time for her to head on home. Anna Maple, her manager and also best friend, offered her a ride to her house, which she gleefully accepted, due to her being to drained to even order an Uber.

They both got inside the sleek black Mercedes-Benz that Anna own, she always took pride in the fact that she owned such a beauty. Stella would have bought a car of her own, if she knew how to drive that is.

Anna slowly backed away from the parking lot, and ease her car onto the street. There was a silence that emitted from the both of them which Stella was grateful for and also dreaded, cause the next traffic light would require her to talk to Anna, cause Stella was certain that Anna knew something was up with her, despite her best efforts to conceal the fact that there is nothing wrong.

As soon as Anna stopped at a red light, her hands were placed on the steering wheel, without looking at Stella, she said, "You know you can fool everyone in this world, but you cannot fool me. I can tell that something is wrong with you, so," she turned her head towards her. "What's up?"

Stella threw her head back and let out a groan, "Why are you like this?"

Anna let out a laugh, "Cause we both have been friends for the longest time." Then her voice took a concern tone, "Now tell me what's wrong?"

Stella let out a sigh, "He broke up with me." She whispered softly.

The traffic light turned yellow, Anna started the car back up.

"I am so sorry," Anna said eyes focused on the road ahead of her. "So, what do you want to do now?" She asked, as the light turned green she drove ahead along with the other cars.

"I don't know, I feel stressed. I am stuck between going into the comfort of my home and just laying about in my PJs and eating one big tub of ice cream, or going to the club and getting drunk off my ass and probably fuck a complete stranger." She let out a slight chuckle on the last sentence.

"Well, it's Friday, plus there is a club that just opened about a month ago that is gaining popularity each week." Anna suggested, her eyes casting her a quick glance, before it went back to the road.

"I genuinely don't know, do you want us to go together?"

"It doesn't seem like a bad idea."

"Ok let's go."

Anna took a different route and headed to the direction of the club.

She parked at a free parking spot, which she was lucky she even managed to find, due to how full this place was each Friday night. They both got out of the car and headed towards the front of the club.

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