THE BILLIONAIRE'S HIDDEN TRIPLETS

Elara's pov "Miss Quinn… congratulations. You're pregnant." The doctor slid the results across the desk and folded her hands on top of them like she had just delivered the best news of my life. My ears rang. What did she just say? The word pregnant hit me like tones of bricks just fell from the sky and hit me at the same time. It felt heavy and impossible. I stared at the paper without reading a single word on it. "I think there must be a mistake," I whispered. "The results are clear." She tapped the paper once with her finger. "Your HCG levels confirm it. You are approximately six weeks along." Six weeks. Six weeks ago I was working a catering shift at the Ashford Grand Gala, wearing a white uniform that was slightly too big for me and trying to get through the night without drawing attention to myself. That same night, I drank a glass of wine I should never have touched and woke up the next morning in a hotel room that was not mine, on a bed I didn't recognise, and with a banging headache that started behind my eyes and reached the back of my skull. I pressed my hands flat against my thighs so the doctor would not see them shaking. "Do you know who the father is?" she asked. The question landed harder than she probably intended. I almost laughed. I knew his name, that was all. I had seen it printed on a hotel key card that was sitting on the nightstand when I woke up that morning, confused, frightened and alone. I picked it up, turned it over and stared at it for so long that the letters stopped making sense. Damien Ashford. The most powerful man in this city. The man whose name was on the side of the three different buildings I was cleaning for minimum wage. He was the host of the charity gala I cleaning the very night my life fell completely apart. That was the father of my baby. "Miss Quinn." The doctor's voice brought me back. "Is there someone I can call for you?" I shook my head and picked up my bags. Then walked out. --- I sat on the edge of my bed that night with a blank piece of paper in front of me and a pen that kept slipping between my fingers. My apartment was so small that the kitchen and the bedroom were almost in the same room. The walls were so thin that i could hear the couple next door through the paint, their voices going back and forth without stopping. They were fighting again, but that wasn't my problem. My problem was finding the best way to tell the father of my children that I was pregnant for him. I pressed the pen to the paper. Mr. Ashford, You don't know me. My name is Elara Quinn. Six weeks ago we were both at the Ashford charity gala and something happened between us. I don't remember all of it, and I'm not sure you do either. But I need you to know what came after. I stopped. Crumpled the paper, threw it to the wall and started again on a fresh sheet. Mr. Ashford, I don't want anything from you. I am not asking for money or attention or anything that would inconvenience your life. I just need you to know the truth, because you have a right to know it and I have no other way to sleep at night unless I tell you. I rewrote the letter four times before I was satisfied. When I finally read it back, it sounded honest. Not polished, not rehearsed. Just honest, which was the only thing I had left to offer. I folded it into an envelope, wrote his name on the front, and set it on the nightstand next to my alarm clock. Tomorrow, i would find a way to get it to him. I slipped the doctor's test results and the three tests I took before going to the hospital for confirmation. --- The Harrow Grand hotel looked exactly the way it looked in the photographs I had seen online. Crystal chandeliers that caught the morning light and scattered it across the ceiling, marble floors so polished that I could see the upside-down reflection of the lobby in them. And an enormous flower arrangements on every surface that probably cost more than my rent. Every single person inside that lobby was wearing something expensive and immediately I walked in, feet unsteady, heart beating fast, I felt their eyes slide over me even from the doors. I was completely out of place in my cheap jacket and old shoes. The plain envelope was still clutched in both hands that were slightly trembling. I walked to the reception desk anyway. "Good morning." I kept my voice steady. "I need to see Damien Ashford." The receptionist looked up at me with a smile that did not reach anywhere near her eyes. "Do you have an appointment?" "No. But if I could just leave a letter for him, you could deliver it yourself and I'll leave immediately after." I placed the envelope on the counter between us. She looked at it, then looked at me. The smile stayed exactly where it was. "Mr. Ashford does not meet with strangers." "I'm not asking for a meeting. I'm asking you to help me pass him a letter." She eyed me. "Please remove that thing from the desk." A man nearby in a grey suit glanced over at the sound of my voice. "Another one of those girls," he said quietly to the woman beside him and she pressed her hands to her lips to hold back her laughter. I heard it loud and clear. I did not look at him. I kept my eyes on the receptionist and tried to remember every reason I told myself last night that this was the right thing to do. "Ma'am, please. This is important. I would not be here if it wasn't." She reached for the phone without another word. Two security guards appeared less than a minute later. Both tall with a completely blank face like this was the most routine part of their morning. "You need to leave," one of them said, reaching for my arm. I stepped back. "Wait. Please, just wait." My voice came out louder than I planned and several heads turned in my direction. "I'm pregnant. The baby is his. I just need him to receive this letter. That is all I am asking." A woman near the elevator put her hand over her mouth. Another laughed. Someone behind me even whispered, "Gold digger." Making my face go so hot that I could feel my own heartbeat in my cheeks. "That is not what this is." My voice cracked on the last word and I hated myself for it. "Please. Someone just make sure he gets this. Please." But nobody listened to me. They were already dragging me towards the door like I was something unwanted. I lost the envelope near the entrance when it fell from my hands somewhere in the struggle. A guard picked it up without looking at me and pushed it through the gap under the door after making sure that I was completely outside the building. It landed at my feet on the wet pavement and the doors closed. I stood in the cold and looked down at the envelope. I had to get it to him. No matter how. I had to. I picked it up and told myself to breathe. “I will find another way,” I mumbled while trying not to fall apart on a public street. Suddenly, little drops of rain started dropping from the sky about me. I kept walking in the rain, going to nowhere in particular. Until I saw the car. It was black and expensive. Moving slowly along the curb just behind me, keeping a slow pace to avoid overtaking me. I walked faster and it followed after me. I was being followed and I had no idea why. When I turned to a quieter street, the car turned too. My heart started beating harder. I stopped walking and turned around. The car stopped as well. For a moment nothing happened. Just the rain and the sound of the engine and the grey morning sitting over everything. Then the tinted window rolled down slowly. Someone was sitting in the back seat, watching me through the rain with an expression I could not read from where I was standing. I didn't see his face clearly.