Hidden Pregnancy: The Boss’s Secret Triplets

MAYA POV The sunlight was too bright. It cut through the gaps in the heavy charcoal curtains, landing right across my eyes. I groaned, pulling a silk pillow over my head to block it out. My head felt like it was being squeezed by a vice, a dull reminder of the gin from the night before. Slowly, the memories started to click into place. The cupcake box on the floor. Derek and Chloe. The bar. The man. I sat up abruptly, clutching the smooth duvet to my chest. The room was massive, modern, and smelled faintly of cedar and expensive citrus. It was a minimalist’s dream—all glass, steel, and dark wood. I was alone in the bed. My clothes were folded neatly on a chair by the window. I scrambled out of bed, wincing as my head throbbed, and dressed as quickly as I could. I needed to leave before things got weird. I needed to get to the office. I found him in the kitchen. Julian was standing by a marble island, wearing a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He

MAYA POV The scent of the lilies made me want to throw up again. Derek stood there, looking tired and desperate, holding the bouquet like a shield. I stepped out of the elevator, but I didn't stop walking. "Maya, please," Derek said, following me through the lobby. "I’ve been calling you for two days. I went to the apartment, but the locks were changed." "I told the landlord I didn't feel safe," I said, my voice cold. I headed toward the glass revolving doors. "Which is true. I don't feel safe around people who lie to my face for three years." "It was a mistake, Maya. One night. Chloe and I... we were both drunk and—" I stopped at the curb and turned to face him. "Is that the script? You were drunk? You were in my bed, Derek. In the apartment I pay half the rent for." "I'll make it up to you. Just come home. We can talk about this over dinner. I bought those steaks you like." He reached out to touch my arm, but I flinched away. "There is no home to go back to," I said. "

MAYA POV The guest wing of Julian’s penthouse didn't feel like a home. It felt like a luxury showroom. Everything was white, cream, or beige, polished to a mirror shine. My bags were already sitting by the walk-in closet, completely unpacked by someone else’s hands. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the city cars that looked like tiny ants. "You’re doing it again," a voice said from the doorway. I didn't need to turn around to know it was Julian. The scent of cedarwood and cold rain followed him into the room. He had taken off his suit jacket, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, but he still looked completely out of my league. "Doing what?" I asked, keeping my back to him. "Staring out the window like you’re trying to figure out how to jump." "I'm just looking at the traffic," I said, finally turning around. I crossed my arms, leaning against the glass. "It's a long way down." Julian walked into the room, holding a folder in his hand. He stopped at

JULIAN POV The leather seats of the sedan were cold, but the silence inside the car was colder. I stared out the tinted window as the city blurred past, my fingers tapping a slow, rhythmic pattern against my knee. On the armrest between us, my tablet flickered with incoming emails from the London office, but I couldn't bring myself to read them. "We're three minutes ahead of schedule, Mr. Sterling," Marcus said, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror. "Should I take the expressway or go through the financial district?" "The expressway," I replied, my voice sounding tight even to my own ears. "Let's get this over with." "Yes, sir." Marcus adjusted the wheel, turning the heavy car onto the ramp. My mind kept drifting back to the penthouse. To the kitchen counter. To the way Maya had looked at me when she asked if I was going to buy her off. She had looked small standing against that massive marble island, but her eyes had been entirely fierce. She wasn't like the board member

MAYA POV The duffel bag on the bed was too big for the few things I was actually taking. My hands wouldn't stop shaking as I shoved two oversized sweaters, a pair of sweatpants, and my toothbrush into the dark canvas. Every sound in the penthouse felt magnified—the distant hum of Julian’s voice in the hallway, the rustle of the curtains, the soft thud of Marcus’s boots as he waited by the front door. "You don't need to pack the entire closet, Maya," Julian said, stepping into the room. He had his coat back on, his collar turned up against the chill that seemed to be settling into the apartment. He looked entirely back in control, his face a smooth mask of corporate determination. But when he reached down to zip the bag for me, I noticed the slight tightness in his jaw. "I’m packing what’s mine," I said, pulling the strap over my shoulder. "Which isn't much, considering you bought most of the stuff in here anyway." Julian didn't argue. He took the bag from my hand, his fingers bru