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Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance

Chapter 2 No.2

Word Count: 1110 | Released on: 22/01/2026

or dinged

t moved from the sofa. She was still in her damp funeral dress, though it had dri

illiard's footsteps. He was mo

on, blindingly bright. Caili

was slung over one arm. He looked exhausted, his hair slightly mus

, his voice rough

id. Her voice

er. "The meeting... it was a nightmare. The mer

," she

more, a movement behi

stepped out o

elt like a slap in the face on a day of mourning. She looked

as a soft, trembling mew

rom defensive to protective. He dropped his jacket

und the small of her back. The way Charla leaned i

lin asked. She didn't stand u

"She had a panic attack at the gala. Hyperventilated. She co

lin said. "To our home. On the

illiard snapped. "Don't start t

e smell

he room. It was heavy, floral-gardenias and musk. It was cloying. It

irts for months. The scent she had told herself was

ng at her with wide, watery eyes. "It's my f

f her shoulder. "I... I think I left my shawl in the

ped to Hilliard's

the collar

act shade of lipstick Cha

e in Cailin's head-the grief, the th

It was a fact, printed in red w

Her legs felt sur

ase on the floor. She walked pa

d. He looked down at her, expe

she asked. Her voice was so qui

ilin, look, I know I missed the servi

ou buried your ma

look at Charla. She didn't acknow

as firm, familiar. "We need to talk. You're being un

s hand on her arm. Then

hissed. The venom in her voice startled

She went inside and locked the door. The click o

the door once. "Open this doo

dn't a

him sigh. "Fine. Pout. I

ted from the living room. "

rd said. His foo

il she hit the floor. She pulled her knees up, wrapp

ched he

she whispered. "He doesn'

e weeks ago, back when the suspicion had first started to rot her gut. Inside wa

er hands were shaking, but

clinic in New Jersey, one that specialized in d

ical," a voi

id. "Tomorrow morning. Under the n

n opening

take

e didn't want anything he had bought her. Just

he low murmur of voices. Then, a

her's funeral. With his

needed. It burned away the fear

e were the divorce papers she had drafted herself, findi

capped

ears were for peo

ilin Morton. Not Hollow

he papers

bag to her chest. She wouldn't sleep. She would just w

Chapter End

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Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance

Roderic Penn Modern

“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.”