She Returned with the Zillionaire's Triplets

The presidential suite of Aurora Heights glittered like a jewel in the heart of the city, but Althea Greene hardly noticed. Her senses were consumed, her body trembling beneath the weight of a stranger’s hands. Every touch, every motion left her spinning, untethered from herself, as if the world had dissolved into the heat of that instant.

She tried to lift her eyes, to see who held her so completely, but pleasure clutched her like a storm, dragging her under again and again. Hours slipped by unnoticed, each one folding into the next until her body could bear no more.

When Althea finally sank onto the enormous bed, drained and trembling, a cool weight rested against her neck. Fingers had slipped an emerald necklace around her, a silent, deliberate gift, before vanishing into the shadows.

She slept, oblivious, until noon. When consciousness returned, it brought a chill. Standing at the edge of the bed was Luci Pearl Greene, arms crossed, eyes sharp with scorn.

Althea scrambled to cover herself, the bruises on her skin a shameful testament. Luci’s gaze met hers for a heartbeat, then Luci turned, retrieved a purse from the side table, and flung a check onto the bed like a declaration.

“Your part is done,” Luci said, her tone devoid of warmth. “Here, $10,000,000. Take it and leave Crimson Ridge immediately.”

She didn’t pause. “And last night? Keep it buried. Forget it ever happened. If you don’t…” Her voice dropped, low and lethal. “…I can erase you. Every inheritance, every connection, gone. Burned to nothing. Althea, consider yourself warned.”

One last glare, and Luci left, her heels clicking against the polished floors. Althea’s eyes fell on the faint stain of red on the sheets, a sharp reminder of what had been taken, what had been bought.

If she hadn’t lost her virginity already, why had Luci spent $10,000,000 to orchestrate this encounter? The answer hovered in the air, bitter and undeniable.

Fortunately, the drugs had masked the man’s identity. Althea would never know it had been Griffin Monreal, the tycoon whose mere name sent tremors through Crimson Ridge.

Althea sank back against the pillows, staring at the thick check. Ten million dollars. The cost of her innocence. The price of a night she could never reclaim. Enough, perhaps, to leave, to chase a life elsewhere, to study and rebuild if she dared.

If her mother hadn’t died so young, if her father hadn’t married Valentine Riva, how had she fallen so far? Forced to barter her own body just to secure an education, how bitter that reality tasted.

Althea gave a hollow smile, a flicker of dark comfort in the midst of shame. At least now, she owed nothing to the Greene family.

She pocketed the check, tugged on the slightly rumpled clothes she had worn the night before, and left the hotel behind without a backward glance.

Two days later, she was on a plane bound for overseas, leaving Crimson Ridge and the shadows of her past behind her.

A month later, in a foreign clinic, Althea froze as the doctor handed her the pregnancy test results. Her heart pounded. She had never imagined that a single night could result in life. She barely remembered the man, her mind retaining only fragments, a touch, a warmth, a glimmering emerald necklace he had left around her neck.

Nine months later, Althea lay on the operating table, exhausted and trembling, as the cries of triplets filled the room. But joy was tempered by horror: when she recovered enough to hold them, one of her children had vanished without explanation.

Five years later, at Crimson Ridge International Airport, Althea walked through the arrivals gate with her two nearly identical twins—a boy and a girl—holding their small hands, traveling light.

Returning stirred a storm of emotion she hadn’t anticipated.

Her son, Silas, looked up with wide eyes. “Mom, is this the city where you grew up?”

Althea ruffled his hair gently, her voice soft, almost reverent. “Yes, Silas. This is the city where I once lived.”

“But Mom, are you sure we can find our missing sister here?” her daughter, Lilith, asked, her small voice threaded with hope and worry.

Althea’s lips pressed together, her eyes wandering toward the horizon. After a pause, she whispered, “Your godmother uncovered some leads. If nothing goes wrong, we should find her soon.”

Just then, her phone vibrated. She glanced at the screen and saw a familiar name: Wade Falcon, her school alumni and old confidant.

“Althea, I’m so sorry,” Wade’s voice came through the phone, tinged with regret. “I planned to meet you at the airport, but an emergency surgery ran long. I couldn’t get away in time.”

Wade was vice president at Silverstone Medical Center, and his schedule, crammed with high-stakes operations, left little room for delays or personal errands.

Althea’s tone was calm, steady. “Don’t worry about it. We can take a taxi. We’ll see you at the hospital.”

“Thank you for understanding, Althea. Theron’s father’s surgery is waiting for your guidance,” Wade added before hanging up.

With that, Althea gathered her twins, Silas and Lilith, and stepped into a waiting taxi, leaving the airport behind.

Meanwhile, a convoy of sleek, black vehicles glided up to the terminal entrance.

Luci Pearl leapt from one of the cars, flanked by assistants, and hurried toward the arrival gates. She directed the staff to hold the welcome signs and scan the crowd, anticipation etched on her face.

Suddenly, her sharp eyes caught sight of a taxi speeding past, carrying Althea and her children. Her heart skipped, a jolt of disbelief and excitement mingling in her chest. Althea had returned.

Luci stepped forward instinctively, trying to get a clearer view. And then, a commanding figure appeared beside her—Griffin Monreal, holding a pale four-year-old girl in his arms. Even with the child, his towering frame and intense presence made him the focus of every gaze.

Seeing him, Luci forced a warm, welcoming smile and approached.

“Griffin,” she said, her voice syrupy with practiced sweetness.

Griffin’s cold eyes met hers, unflinching. After a moment, his thin lips moved, his voice smooth but icy.

“Are you certain Dr. Harriet Morgan arrived on this flight?” he asked, every word measured.

Luci nodded promptly. “Yes, I confirmed it through my contacts. Dr. Morgan was on this flight. She’s a remarkable physician. Once we locate her, Solenn will be perfectly fine.”

Her gaze softened as she looked at the little girl in Griffin’s arms.

But Solenn noticed the attention and recoiled, a sudden, instinctive tension coiling through her tiny body. She curled against her father, seeking the security of his strong embrace.