THE CEO'S TRIPLETS

Crystal chandeliers lined the walls, and bronze ones hung above the guests’ heads. The hall glittered with glamorous gowns and expensive, branded suits—but that wasn’t what drew the most attention at the elite party. What truly caught everyone’s eye was an odd, lone figure. She wore an old-fashioned gown with a dirt patch near the hem. Some guests glanced at her and whispered among themselves. She was Lala, the daughter of the Cornell family, and the party was being held at the Cornell mansion. “Lala, pick it up and take it away—quickly,” the Cornell family’s butler ordered, his face creased with disdain and his eyebrows knitted tightly. A guest had just tossed a handkerchief onto the floor, and despite having thirty maids and stewards under his command, the butler chose to send Lala. Without a single complaint, Lala bent down and picked it up smoothly, as if she were used to doing so. When she straightened, the whispers and murmurs grew even louder. Lala quietly walked off and threw it away. She was about to return to the hall when a young man approached—his hair carefully styled, dressed in a white suit. His jaw was set tight, eyes narrowed, and lips pressed together. Though he looked upset, with bloodshot eyes, he was still dangerously handsome. When Lala saw him, her eyes lit up. The burn scar on her face creased with a smile, and her eyes shone brightly—but that only made the young man, Williams—her fiancé—look at her with even more disdain. “Williams,” she called shyly, head lowered, her neck flushed from throat to cheek. A few days earlier, Williams had abandoned her at a restaurant during their date. It had become a pattern: the last time they went for street steak tastings, he left after a single phone call. Lala thought he had come to apologise, but his next words shocked her. “You shouldn’t enter the hall anymore. You’re an eyesore. How can you dress like this on your father’s birthday? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, Lala?” Embarrassed, Lala fidgeted, tightening her grip on her gown. It wasn’t her fault. She had been saving day and night for this occasion, but the dress she bought had gone missing, and Mrs. Cornell had forced her to wear what she had on. She opened her mouth to explain, but before she could speak, he snapped, “Stay here. I’m going in and coming back. Don’t you dare take a step.” He turned and strode away. Lala lifted her head and watched his retreating back, her eyes glistening with tears. Then she pressed her lips together in defiance. What kept her going was the belief that she was going to marry her “thoughtful” fiancé, Williams. A few minutes later, Williams returned looking disgusted, a glass of wine in hand. He walked up to her and started nagging again. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you. My friends are mocking me—saying my fiancée looks worse than a maid. You shouldn’t be in the hall if you aren’t properly dressed. It’s not like your presence there even matters…” He stopped when he noticed Lala hadn’t taken a sip of the wine he’d given her. He frowned, and when he looked at her face, the disdain in his eyes deepened. “Drink up!” Lala shuddered and swallowed the wine in one go. She hadn’t tasted anything all afternoon. She had been overworking under strict supervision and hadn’t been allowed to eat—or even drink water—before she was hurried to the hall for the party. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, which only seemed to disgust Williams even more. “Come. I’ll take you to your room,” he said, reaching out to hold her, though he hesitated. When Lala leaned toward him, he stepped back as if to give her space, looking as though he were holding his breath—eyes bulging, cheeks puffed, nose wrinkled. Anyone would think they weren’t meant to marry at all. The moment they arrived at Lala’s room, Williams said, “Stay in here. I’ll get you some food.” Lala replied excitedly, “Thank you very much, Williams.” “Go on in.” Williams waved her off and let her step into the dark bedroom. He quickly turned around, walked to the washroom, wiped himself down, and sprayed perfume on his body, his face twisting with discomfort. Back in Lala’s dark room, she staggered to the bed and collapsed onto it as her legs gave way. “Why is my bed both so soft and so hard?” Lala murmured in confusion. Then a groan beneath her made her realize she was lying on a person—but the drink she’d had was making her hallucinate. She giggled and said dramatically, “Williams, you sneaked into the room after saying you were going to get me food. You’re a bad boy.” A deep, threatening voice warned from beneath her, “Little miss, be mindful of how you move your hands. I can barely control myself.” Not in her right state of mind, Lala challenged, “Or what are you going to do?” Heavy footsteps approached the door. When they saw it was open, the burly bodyguards glanced at each other. Their boss was inside, and they didn’t know what had made him suddenly lose control. They never expected he could be targeted in the Cornell family house, especially after arriving unannounced. They moved faster, but abruptly stopped when they heard moaning from inside the room. One of them craned his head to peek, only to get smacked on the back of it as his partner said, “I think our boss has found himself a lady. No need for us to find him one.”