The Hearts Dilemma

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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Scarlett.

I bet he has a hundred concubines chasing after him ,each more beautiful than the last. And there I was … sitting in despair, not knowing what I'll be of .

This was not the first time, nor will it be the last I'll see panties in his suitcase. Each time my eyes beheld them, it feels as though my heart will crumble into pieces. I'd always feel this cold thing run through my spine.

Who was that? I jolted out of my thoughts when I heard the doorbell ring.

I didn't linger in wiping the tears off my face. I stared at the clock that hit six PM. Oh my, how long have I been crying?

I walked to the mirror. That was it. The figure there always has her eyes maroon and teary. I mustered courage and scrubbed my face, ensuring no one could sense I was crying.

I walked to the door, and saw a mail man.

I don't remember anyone saying they had a package for me.

The mailman gazed at me in an awkward way. What now?

Just then I realized my hair wasn't put together. Shit.

“Hello ma'am.”

“Hello.” I said, heaving deeply when the mailman took a huge step backwards, making a face as though he had smelt a dead rat.

“This is for you.” He handed me an envelope.

“Thanks.” I said, and received it, still perplexed at his behavior.

I abruptly shut the door behind me, and poured my mouth breath on my palms. Shit! It was disgusting. Oh my, no wonder he made those faces.

All because of Aaron. I sat my ass on the couch, anticipating the content in the envelope.

“The high court of Greenfield.” It read. Court?

I ran my eyes through everything that was penned. I felt my heart shatter into crumbs. “Petition for dissolution of marriage.” He really meant this. I thought it was all part of the empty threats he made.

I slowly fell off the couch, to get my head together. He had signed, and mine was demanded.

No, no. It's impossible I'll be signing this. I love him too dearly.

My eyes became frozen. I could barely see anything but mustered tears.

I heard the door knob twist and open. I slowly turned to see him. Out of the blue, the man decided to break my heart.

But he wasn't the only one; another was with him. His mistress perhaps. Her face didn't ring a bell.

“Aaron?” I stood to meet him. The fool was intoxicated already.

“You…” he said, pointing his unstable index finger at me.

“Aaron? What's this?” I asked, with the divorce papers hanging in my hand, not having time for the other lady.

“It is what it is, love.” He said, and smacked my face slightly.

The other lady majestically walked her ass to my settee. “Why are you doing this? I'm sorry if I've done anything…we can resolve this like two adults but not like this-” he interrupted me midway.

“Save that for someone else…” This was real. My eyes twitch as he grabs the other lady by the waist, romantically leading her to our bedroom.

OUR bedroom.

That was what he did to me on our wedding night, and now for her…

They came out again, and he whispered. ”We'll be needing the room to ourselves the whole night.”

“If you don't mind…” the lady said, and I just stood there, staring and amazed at how stupid they looked.

“Like she has a choice.” Aaron said and they both poured out laughter.

Their lips interlocked, deeply, which made tears fall.

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