Natalie Pov
By the time I finally escape the suffocating walls of Pierce Holdings and Titans, I'm half convinced the clock has a personal vendetta against me. I practically dive into a cab, telling the driver to step on it like I'm being chased by tax collectors.
I can't wait to get home. I need my babies to still be awake.
I saw them this morning before leaving for work — tiny sleepy heads buried in their pillows, breathing softly — but it wasn't enough. It never is.
The nylon bag with fish and fresh vegetables sits beside me like a trophy. I promised them fish tonight, and honestly, I think I'm just as excited as they are.
While the cab crawls through traffic, I pull out my phone and scroll through my gallery. It starts with the triplets' very first day — wrinkly, red, furious little potatoes — and moves through the months: first steps, missing teeth, disastrous art projects, Zade's "scientific experiment" that ended with green glitter all over the kitchen ceiling.
The moment their faces fill my screen, the exhaustion of the day evaporates. My heart does this stupid, warm squeeze thing, and suddenly I don't feel like roadkill anymore.
The cab drops me in front of our apartment. I pay the driver and practically bounce out, already hearing their voices in my head.
But when I knock, the house is suspiciously quiet. Too quiet.
I frown, turn the knob, and step in. It's dark.
No light. No sound. No chaos.
A cold wave of disappointment rolls through me. Oh no. They fell asleep.
I tiptoed to their room, ready to kiss their sleepy faces goodnight — but the bed is empty.
Empty.
My stomach plummets.
Where the hell are they?!
Then suddenly—
"**SURPRISE, MUM!!!**"
Three tiny humans leap out from behind the kitchen counter like baby ninjas. Hayley's shrill scream could probably break glass. My soul briefly leaves my body.
"Jesus Christ on a pogo stick!" I yelp, clutching my chest. "You little gremlins almost gave me a heart attack!"
They burst out laughing — the loud, breathless kind that makes it impossible to stay mad.
"Mum, your face!" Zade wheezes, clutching his belly. "You looked like a chicken seeing pepper for the first time."
Aaron actually rolls on the floor. "I wish we recorded that!"
I narrow my eyes. "I hope you all know ghosts are real and I'm going to unleash one on you tonight."
Hayley clings to my leg dramatically. "I'm too pretty to be haunted!"
I can't help it. I laugh. "You're all evil. Cute evil. But evil."
"Mum," Zade says, as if the jump scare never happened. "I want fish."
"Of course you do," I mutter, lifting the nylon bag like a champion prize. "Look what Mama brought."
"**YAAAAAY!**"
I swear their joy is like sunlight. Just watching their faces light up wipes away every irritating thing Alex Pierce did today.
"Okay, troops," I announce, kicking off my shoes. "Wash those grubby little hands. Operation Fish-and-Veggies begins now."
They all scramble toward the sink like it's a military mission. Hayley stands on tiptoe, Zade shoves Aaron for fun, Aaron dramatically pretends to faint, and I'm laughing like an idiot.
As we cook, Hayley keeps shooting me that mischievous grin she inherited from me. "Mum, remember I told you I have a gist?"
I raise an eyebrow. "This better be the good kind of gist. Not the 'I accidentally dyed the cat pink' kind."
She gasps. "That was one time!"
"Uh-huh."
She leans close, whispering like we're in a spy movie. "I'll tell you after dinner. It's juicy."
Zade interrupts with a chef's seriousness. "Mum, she became class president today."
I blink. "Wait—what?!"
Hayley throws her arms up in a flourish. "Eighty percent of the votes, baby!"
I let out a whoop that startles them. "My baby girl's a president now! Should I start calling you Madam President?"
"Yes," she replies instantly.
"No," Zade groans.
Aaron adds, "She already acts like a dictator."
Hayley smacks him with a dish towel. "Silence, peasant."
I can't stop laughing as they bicker and brag and laugh and tease. We eat together — loud, messy, joyful — the way real dinners are supposed to be.
Afterward, we clean up. Hayley insists on washing the dishes, so I drag a stool over for her. She splashes more water than she washes, but she hums the whole time, and honestly? It's perfect.
Once the kitchen is clean and the bellies are full, I tuck them into bed. Aaron's already half asleep. Hayley demands three kisses "for presidential protection." Zade is trying to stay awake but his eyelids are losing the battle.
I read them a bedtime story — one they've heard at least twenty times — and just as I reach the end, Zade's sleepy voice mumbles, "Mum?"
I turn. "Yes, darling?"
"The letter's on the fridge."
Right. The letter. The mysterious one Zade mentioned earlier.
"Thanks, sweetheart. Sleep now, okay?"
He nods, eyes fluttering shut.
I quietly step out, take a quick shower, brush my teeth, and pad into the kitchen in my pajamas.
The letter is sitting there on the fridge, plain white, no name, no address. My stomach does an uncomfortable twist as I tear it open.
---
**Natalie,**
Secrets don't stay hidden forever. I know about Alex Pierce — and I know he's the father of your children.
I'm not here to expose you or hurt the kids. I just wanted you to know that someone else knows.
Be careful who you trust.
— A friend
---
I stare at the words like they're going to rearrange themselves and tell me it's all a prank.
But they don't.
My hands shake a little. My chest feels tight.
No. No, no, no.
Who the hell sent this?
How do they know?
Alex can't find out. Not like this. Not ever.
The hum of the refrigerator is the only sound in the kitchen. For the first time in a long while, I feel a chill crawl down my spine.
And just like that, the warmth of the night feels a little less safe.