Triplets for the Alpha CEO

Bridgett The red letters on the paper seemed to burn through the floorboards. Final Notice of Eviction. I stared at it, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I had forty-eight hours. Two days to come up with three months of back rent, or my three babies and I would be sleeping on the streets of Chicago. "Mami? My sock feels funny." I blinked the tears away and turned around. The chaos of our tiny, one-bedroom apartment swallowed me whole. Abby was hopping on one foot, her blonde curls bouncing. "It’s bunching up at the toes! Can you fix it? Can you? And Theo said we can’t have pancakes, but I want pancakes." "We don't have mix, Abby," Theo said from the corner. At five years old, my son already had the weary posture of a protector. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his dark blue eyes—so much like his—scanning the room for threats. Belle, my quiet princess, sat on the frayed rug, ignoring the noise. She was sketching intently on the back of an old e

Bridgett My phone vibrated against the polished surface of my new desk like a time bomb. I glanced at the screen. Mrs. Higgins. Panic spiked in my chest. I looked toward the frosted glass doors of Jordan’s office. He was in there. I could feel him. His heavy, wood-smoke scent seeped through the cracks, wrapping around me, keeping me tethered to my chair. I picked up the phone, ducking beneath the desk. "Hello?" "Bridgett! You need to come now!" Mrs. Higgins’ voice was shrill. "A pipe burst in the ceiling. The basement is flooding. I’m putting the children on the sidewalk!" "What? You can't just leave them on the street!" I hissed, my hand shaking. "I have six inches of water in here! Come get them, or I’m calling Child Services!" The line went dead. The blood drained from my face. I looked at the time. 2:00 PM. Jordan had meetings until 5:00. I couldn't leave. He had practically locked me in the building. But I couldn't leave my babies on a street corner in downtown Chicago

Bridgett"Steal your legacy?" I choked out, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. “I was trying to keep you from taking them away from me!”Jordan didn't budge. His large hands tightened on the edge of the ping-pong table, trapping me. "From me? Am I a monster, Bridgett? Is that what you think?""You're a billionaire Alpha," I whispered, tears finally spilling over. "I was a waitress living in a studio apartment. If I had told you... you would have taken them. You would have crushed me. You have to understand me—""You decided to play God," he snarled, pushing off the table. He turned his back to me, running a hand through his hair. The tension radiating off him was enough to crack the walls.He paced the small room like a caged tiger. "Three of them. Three." He stopped in front of the beanbag chair where Belle was hiding behind her sketchbook.He crouched down."Don't touch her!" I cried out, lunging forward.Jordan shot me a look that froze my feet to the floor. "Be silent," he co

BridgettThe iron gates of the Hayes estate groaned open, revealing a winding driveway lined with ancient oak trees.At the end of the road stood the mansion. It wasn't a house, it was a fortress of stone and glass, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. It looked beautiful. It looked like a prison."Welcome home," Jordan said, his voice devoid of irony.The limo stopped. A team of staff was already waiting on the steps.I stepped out, clutching Belle’s hand so tight my knuckles turned white. Theo stood next to me, his jaw set in a stubborn line, mimicking Jordan’s expression perfectly."Mrs. Gable," Jordan addressed an elderly woman in a crisp uniform. "Take the children to the nursery annex. Get them bathed and fed. Throw away their old clothes. Everything new.""No!" I stepped in front of the children. "You aren't taking them away from me."Jordan turned, his eyes weary but hard. "The nursery annex is connected to my bedroom, Bridgett. It’s the safest room in the house. Rei

Bridgett "And that includes you." His breath ghosted over my skin, hot and possessive. I shivered, unable to help it. The air between us crackled with a tension that was partly fear, partly gratitude, and mostly something else—something primal that I refused to name. I turned in his arms, pushing against his chest to create space. "I am not a possession, Jordan. You can’t just claim people like you claim companies." "Can’t I?" He arched a dark eyebrow, his eyes still swirling with the remnants of his wolf's gold. "I just defended our cubs. I just kicked my VP out of my house for you. In my world, Bridgett, that is a claim." He stepped back, the intensity dialling down just enough for me to breathe again. He looked at my worn-out t-shirt and the faded jeans I had hastily pulled on. "Go upstairs," he commanded softly. "Mrs. Gable will watch the children. You and I have things to discuss. Starting with your wardrobe." (***) I walked back into the East Wing bedroom, my mind racing