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Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance Novel Cover

Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance

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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Chapter 9

Hilliard towered over the child. He expected a scared street urchin. He expected tears.

Instead, the little girl glared up at him with eyes that were startlingly green.

"Did you paint my car?" Hilliard asked sternly.

Elia crossed her arms over her chest. "Maybe. It was ugly anyway."

Hilliard blinked. He was taken aback. Most adults couldn't hold his gaze. This three-foot-tall menace was challenging him.

"Where are your parents?" he demanded.

"I don't have parents," Elia said, reciting the line Davy had taught her. "I hatched from an egg."

Hilliard felt the corner of his mouth twitch. He suppressed a smirk. "An egg. Right."

He crouched down so he was at eye level with her.

"Look, kid. You caused fifty thousand dollars in damage. This isn't a joke."

Elia pouted. Her lower lip stuck out. "You have money. Everyone says so. You're the Bad Daddy."

Hilliard froze. The air around him seemed to drop ten degrees.

"What did you call me?" he whispered.

Elia realized she had slipped. She clamped her mouth shut, her eyes widening.

Hilliard leaned closer. He studied her face. The shape of her nose... the stubborn set of her jaw... the arch of her eyebrows.

A headache began to throb in his temples. Why did she look so familiar? It was like looking at a ghost, or a reflection in a funhouse mirror.

Hidden behind the forklift, Cali was hyperventilating. She reached into her clutch and pulled out a tactical pen-a tranquilizer dart launcher Kegan had given her.

She aimed it at Hilliard's neck. If he touches her, I drop him.

Hilliard reached out. "Let me see your pockets. Do you have ID?"

He grabbed Elia's wrist.

Elia panicked. She opened her mouth and chomped down on the fleshy part of his hand.

"Ow!" Hilliard recoiled, yanking his hand back.

"Don't touch me!" Elia screamed.

"Sir!" Two security guards came running around the corner. "We found the breach point!"

Hilliard stood up, rubbing his hand. There were small teeth marks on his skin.

He looked at the girl. She was terrified now.

"Take this child to the car," Hilliard said, his voice cold. "We're going to the police station."

He was bluffing. He just wanted to scare her into revealing who her parents were so he could sue them.

But Elia didn't know that. "No police!" she wailed.

The guard reached for Elia.

"Let her go!"

Cali stepped out from the shadows. She held the pen like a weapon.

Hilliard turned. The masked woman again.

He looked from the woman to the child. The same green eyes. The same defiance.

"So," Hilliard said, a cruel smile touching his lips. "She's yours."

"Let the child go, Holloway," Cali warned. Her voice trembled, betraying her. "She's a minor."

Hilliard stepped between Cali and Elia.

"She's a criminal," Hilliard said. "And you're her accomplice. Get in the car. Both of you."

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