The Billionaire's Secret Triplets: Mom's Revenge

Annelise pushed herself up from the floor, fueled by a surge of pure hatred. "Don't play games with me. I want my children."

"You will get nothing until I get what I want," Archibald countered, his voice dangerously low. "You violated the terms of our separation. You returned to New York. And you brought... complications." He gestured vaguely, his eyes hard as flint.

The word 'complications'-a cold, sterile term for her children-stoked the fire in her gut. She wanted to claw his eyes out. "They are not complications! They are my sons!"

A son who nearly got my driver killed, Archibald countered, his voice dangerously low. "A son who looks so much like me it's statistically improbable."

He was so close now she could feel the heat radiating from his body. His sheer size and the aggressive way he trapped her in her space triggered a violent flashback. She gasped, her chest heaving as she backed away, her hands trembling.

Archibald saw the genuine, raw panic in her eyes. The way she shrank from him. He mistook her trauma response for the dawning horror of a guilty woman being cornered. "What's the matter, Annelise? Finally realizing the consequences of your actions? Was your little affair worth it? Was it worth losing everything?"

I never betrayed you! she choked out, the words tasting like ash. "You... your family... you destroyed me!"

I destroyed you? Archibald laughed, a cold, humorless sound. "You destroyed the Sanders name with your infidelity." He turned away from her, walking back to his desk as if dismissing her. He picked up a document. A DNA test consent form.

Sign it, he commanded, his back still to her. "I want to confirm those children are not mine, so I can charge you with fraud and endangerment and have you thrown in a federal prison."

Annelise stared at his broad back. This was the threat. The core of it. He believed she had cheated, and he would use that belief to take her children, even if he thought they weren't his, just to punish her. Or worse, if he discovered how exceptionally gifted they were, a ruthless tyrant like him would absolutely seize them to be groomed as assets for the Sanders empire. She couldn't let him get a DNA sample or any legal hold over them.

I won't sign it, she said, her voice shaking but firm. "They have nothing to do with you."

In this city, I have ways of getting what I want, Archibald said, turning to face her. He tapped a button on his desk console. A large screen on the wall flickered to life, showing a live feed of a holding cell. Blace was inside, awake now, systematically testing the seams of the door.

He's a remarkable boy, Archibald said, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "So much potential. It would be a shame to see it wasted in the foster system after his mother is incarcerated."

The threat landed like a physical blow. Annelise felt the air leave her lungs. He would do it. She had no doubt. She had to negotiate.

I'll sign, she whispered, the words of surrender burning her throat. "I'll sign your damn paper. But you sign the divorce decree. Now. We take the test, it proves they aren't yours, and you let us walk away forever."

Archibald raised an eyebrow. "You're in a position to make demands?"

It's the only way you get my signature without a court battle that will drag your precious name through the mud for years, she shot back, finding a sliver of strength.

He stared at her, a long, calculating silence stretching between them. He admired the fire in her, even as he despised what he believed she represented. He was about to agree, to call her bluff, when the lights in the office flickered and died, plunging them into near darkness.

The massive flat-screen monitor on the wall, now the only source of light, turned from black to a stark, white screen.

A single line of text appeared, typed out letter by letter.

Step away from my mother.

Archibald stared at the screen, stunned. "What is this?"

The text was deleted and replaced. You have 60 seconds to open the door to her room. Or the Sanders Tower sprinkler system will be activated. All 88 floors.

Annelise gasped. "Algernon."

Your son is doing this? Archibald asked, his voice a low growl of disbelief.

He's a genius, Annelise said, a spark of pride cutting through her fear. "And he's not bluffing. He once flooded our apartment building's laundry room because the landlord wouldn't fix the washing machine."

Archibald almost laughed. It was a dark, incredulous sound. "He's five."

He's my son, Annelise said.

The words echoed in the dark room. My son. The boy on the screen who was trying to break out of a high-security cell. The boy who had just seized control of his billion-dollar skyscraper.

50 seconds, the screen flashed.