Dabanetcher

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.

Modern Crime Revenge

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~~Grief only exists where love lived once~~

Onika's Pov....

Today I woke up in the middle of night with a jerk. I was sweating profusely. My palms were a bit shaky with the aftereffect of the nightmare. I heard Alex crying loudly, it was then I realized I had screamed hard, hard enough to wake him up from his peaceful slumber like countless other nights.

I immediately took Alex on my lap to soothe him, it took me nearly half an hour to calm him down and assure him that everything is all right, before he finally feel asleep clutching my fingers tightly as if expecting someone to come and snatch him away from me. Even the thought of it made me shiver in terror.

I tried to console myself, to calm myself. But deep down I know, when Agustin finds me he will make my life hell again.

'Right at this moment I hate you the most Agustin, more than I have ever done before. I hate you with every fibre of my being.

Fucking stop torturing my child as well. You motherfucking bastard.'

But what's more, I hate myself as well for being such a weakling. I never anticipated that it would be this hard to get you out of my mind even after running away. I am miles away from you but you still haunt my mind, day and night.

But, not my child, please not my child. I am scaring Alex as well, and this is killing me.

With every breath I take, I bleed.

With every second that passes something within me dies.

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