Heartbeat Fast

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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Ava Harper's sneakers pounded the wet pavement as rain drizzled from the gray, overcast sky. She pulled her sweater tighter around her face, shielding herself from the cold. The downtown streets of New York were unusually quiet this morning-the kind of eerie calm that only comes with a midweek rainstorm.

Ava clutched her worn leather portfolio under her arm as she made her way to The Art District Café, her favorite spot to sketch between freelance gigs. She was a struggling artist with big dreams and barely enough cash to get through the month. But none of that mattered when she had her sketchpad and a hot cup of coffee.

As she turned the corner, her path collided with a man in an impeccably tailored suit. The impact sent her portfolio flying and him stumbling back.

"Oh, no! I'm so sorry!"Ava exclaimed, dropping to her knees to gather her scattered sketches.

"It's fine," the man replied, his tone clipped yet calm. He crouched to help her, his hand brushing against one of her drawings. "Are these yours?"

Ava looked up to meet his gaze, her breath catching for a moment. His eyes were a piercing shade of blue, framed by sharp cheekbones and an air of authority. But it wasn't just his striking features that threw her off; it was the aura of power that surrounded him, the kind that spoke of someone used to getting what they wanted.

"Yes," she said, tucking a strand of damp hair behind her ear. "Just some sketches."

He studied one of the drawings-a vivid charcoal rendering of a city skyline, alive with detail and emotion. "You're talented," he said simply, handing it back to her.

"Thanks," she muttered, her cheeks flushing. She quickly stuffed the papers back into her portfolio. "I really didn't mean to bump into you."

"It's not every day someone dares to knock me off course," he said, a hint of amusement flickering across his otherwise stoic face.

Ava let out a nervous laugh, standing up and brushing off her jeans. "Well, I hope I didn't ruin your day."

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