The Billionaire's Hidden Triplets

The silver tray burned into my trembling fingers.

Two hundred dollars.

That was what this corrupt catering agency promised to pay me for pulling a double shift at the Fortnight Ball tonight.

It wasn't enough to cover my overdue rent, but after my boss cruelly fired me yesterday, it was the only thing keeping me off the freezing streets.

“More champagne, miss,” a wealthy man grunted, not sparing me a glance as he grabbed a crystal flute from my tray.

I forced a polite smile and resumed moving. My feet throbbed inside my cheap, regulation black flats and the apron felt tight. Around me, women in million-dollar silk gowns and men in custom tuxedos laughed, lost in their worlds, completely oblivious to my desperation. If I dropped a single glass, I would be fired on the spot without a dime.

Just like yesterday.

I spotted Ruth, my best friend, also dressed in our server uniform. Her face was pale with panic. “Don’t go into the VIP lounge. Alec Rivera just arrived, and he’s already furious.”

I froze at the name of the city's most ruthless billionaire, but I couldn't move out of the way fast enough.

A drunk guest lurched his heavy shoulder into my back, knocking me off balance. My silver tray tipped violently, and three crystal glasses flew through the air as I crashed into another solid wall of fabric.

A scent of cedarwood and expensive cologne surrounded him, carrying the quiet confidence of a man used to being obeyed. I looked up, my breath catching in my throat as I stared into a pair of piercing, blue eyes.

It was him.

The hall fell into silence; even the band stopped playing. I could hear my best friend gasping behind me.

“Did she just spill drinks on the host?” a guest rasped, shaking her head. “Oh, she's about to regret the day she was born.”

“These girls are always desperate, throwing themselves at him,” another leered.

Alec Rivera.

CEO of Daston Airlines and heir to the Rivera Group.

He looked down at his ruined suit with barely veiled contempt, before his gaze lingered on my face just for a second too long, like he was deciding my fate.

“I'm so sorry, sir.” I clasped my hands together. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

My heart had never pounded so fast.

“Mabel Parker!!” The manager called as he stormed over. “What have you done?”

“It was a mistake,” I stuttered.

“I'm calling the police right away.”

“There's no need for that,” Alec Rivera spoke, his deep voice cutting through the tense silence of the room.

The manager blinked, his eyes darting frantically to the shattered glass on the floor and the dark puddle of champagne pooling around Alec's expensive shoes. “Sir? Your suit... and the drinks—”

“Clean the place,” Alec said, finally looking at the chubby man. “And give her a fresh tray.”

Then, those piercing blue eyes snapped back to me.

A sudden wave of heat rushed through my chest, and my skin flushed beneath my cheap uniform. My lungs forgot how to take a breath until he stepped away.

The hall buzzed back to life as Alec vanished into the crowd, but the heavy, curious stares of some guests remained pinned to my skin.

Ruth rushed to my side the moment the manager scurried away to find a broom. Her hands were shaking as she grabbed my arm. “Mabel. Oh my god. Why did Alec Rivera just protect you?”

I couldn't answer her. My chest was still tight, my skin still tingling from how close he had been. I looked down at my empty, trembling hands.

Men like Alec didn't want women like me.

A B.Sc. graduate who couldn't land a decent job. A daughter still grieving her mother nearly five years after her death. The child of a deadbeat father who never hesitated to bring his debtors to her doorstep.

“Here,” the manager shoved another cold tray into my hands, sneering as he wiped a speck of dust off his own lapel. “Don't get any ideas, Ms. Parker. A man like Alec Rivera doesn't even see people like you. This isn't Pride and Prejudice, sweetheart.”

His words stung like a physical slap. I forced my chin up, refusing to let him see the tears pricking the corners of my eyes. He was right. This wasn't a Cinderella story where the billionaire swoops in and saves the miserable server girl. And I needed that two hundred dollars.

Alec was now dancing with one of the guests, a blonde in a beautiful red dress. I tried not to notice the way he held her waist, the way they laughed and waltzed across the dance floor, the crystal chandelier catching the sparkles in their eyes.

Why did it bother me seeing him smile at another woman?

He spun her mid-turn, and his gaze found mine.

It held for the briefest moment, then he looked away.

The last note of the music faded, and they parted. Alec picked up a drink from a passing server. He gulped a mouthful and glanced at his drink.

His face turned pale, and one hand drifted to his stomach.

I was no detective, but I could sense something was wrong.

Alec turned and started toward the door.

“Hold this for me, Ruth.” I shoved my tray into a shocked Ruth’s hands.

“Where are you going?” she hissed, her eyes widening as I backed away. “Mabel?”

“Just cover for me for five minutes,” I whispered, already slipping through the heavy velvet curtains of the main hall, leaving the booming classical music and the chattering elite behind.

The VIP corridor was a stark contrast—silent, dimly lit, and lined with marble pillars.

My cheap flats made no sound against the thick plush carpet as I hurried forward, my heart hammering against my ribs. Why am I doing this? I chided myself. He’s a billionaire. He doesn’t need help from a server.

I turned to leave and ran into an older woman.

She grabbed my shoulder. “You're just in time.”