She Hid His Triplets-Now He Wants Them Back!

The room was filled with heat - not just from their bodies, but from everything left unsaid for far too long.

Paul gripped her hips like a man on the edge, his movements urgent, rough, and unrelenting. There was nothing gentle about the way he claimed her, driven by years of bitterness and a desire he never truly buried.

"You missed this," he growled, his breath hot against her ear. "Don't lie to me, Hannah."

Her hands clutched his shoulders, nails dragging down his back as she gasped. "Don't stop," she whispered, her voice trembling with need. "Please... don't stop."

His eyes bore into hers - stormy, burning, wild - like she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

"Say it again," he demanded, each word heavy with emotion.

"Harder," she pleaded, her body arching toward him, desperate and breathless. "Paul... I need more."

He moved with renewed intensity, as if punishing her and pleading with her all at once, each motion a mix of fury and longing. The bed groaned beneath them, silk sheets tangled beneath their tangled limbs.

Morning.

The room was silent now.

A soft headache throbbed in Hannah's temples as her eyes fluttered open.

She blinked at the slanted sunlight pouring through the curtains, her body sore, her lips swollen. The air still smelled like sweat and heat and Paul.

Her hand brushed across warm skin - his bare chest.

Her heart stopped.

Paul.

He lay asleep beside her, lashes resting against flushed cheeks, a faint mark from her teeth still visible on his neck.

"What the hell is going on?" Hannah's voice caught in her throat, her chest tightening with shock and panic. Why was she in bed with her ex-husband?

No. She refused to believe it.

Had her other self taken over? The alter ego she had buried for years?

"No..." she whispered, sitting up slowly, pulse thundering in her ears as her eyes scanned the room. Clothes were scattered across the floor - her panties dangling from the lamp, her bra hooked on the doorknob.

"No, no, no."

She scrambled to her feet, clutching the sheet to her chest as she backed away from the bed like it might bite her.

She had slept with Paul.

No - her alter ego had.

And now... he'd never let her go.

If he found out what happened last night - what she did to him - everything would spiral.

He'd never believe it wasn't her. He'd use it. Twist it. Make her feel small again.

Her eyes landed on the notepad by the bed.

With shaking fingers, she snatched the pen and scribbled:

[Whatever last night was - Forget it happened. If you dare take it out on my family, I'll leak your nudes!]

She dropped the pen, grabbed her purse, and ran.

By the time Paul stirred, the heat of her body was gone.

But her scent lingered.

So did the scratches on his back.

His gaze swept across the disheveled sheets, and then-his eyes landed on the note.

He picked it up, unfolding it with slow, deliberate movements.

The moment he read the words, his face darkened with fury.

...

Six Years Later, City A International Airport.

Hannah let out a tired sigh and rubbed her temples as she waited for her luggage. She'd originally planned to stick around for the whole summer camp as a mentor-after all, she was finally a successful children's author. But then her grandfather had fallen ill out of nowhere, and she'd had to cut the trip short.

Bringing Shawn along had seemed like a good idea at the time-he'd begged to come with her, and she hadn't had the heart to say no. But now, after a long flight and barely any rest, all she wanted was to get home and crawl into bed.

Sloane had stayed back abroad with Josie, which made things a little less complicated. Still, wrangling one hyper five-year-old on her own was no small task. She turned to check on Shawn, ready to tell him (again) to stay close-only to find the spot beside her completely empty.

Her heart stopped.

"Shawn?" she called, her voice sharp with panic.

Frantically, she spun around, scanning the crowded terminal. Just moments ago, he had been right beside her, waiting for their luggage. How could he have disappeared so quickly?

A cold sweat broke out on her forehead. Shawn was only five. He couldn't have wandered off far... could he?

Biting back her rising fear, Hannah forced herself to think rationally. He had always been an energetic child, full of curiosity. Maybe he had spotted something interesting and wandered a few steps away.

But what if-

No. She couldn't let herself think of the worst-case scenario.

Meanwhile, in the VIP lounge...

A five-year-old boy, Sean Green, the young master of the Green family, sat quietly with a pair of sunglasses perched on his small nose. Tall, imposing bodyguards flanked him as he sipped a juice box, seemingly unbothered by the busy airport around him.

"Young Master, the car is here."

"Did my dad come to pick me up?" Sean asked casually.

Seeing the butler hesitate, Sean continued, "Well, I can go home by myself. He's always working anyway. It's not like he cares."

As the heir to the Green family, Sean had been raised with strict discipline. Though he was still young, he carried himself with a maturity far beyond his years.

The butler hurriedly tried to correct the misunderstanding. "No... Mr. Green couldn't pick you up because he's on a blind date arranged by your grandmother," he answered cautiously.

"???"

Sean crossed his arms, his tiny lips pursed in dissatisfaction, his expression darkening. "So, he's on another blind date? Hmph..."

The butler wiped his sweat nervously. It seemed he had misspoken. He quickly tried to change the subject. "Young Master, did you have fun at summer camp? The household staff has already prepared all your favorite dishes at home."

Hearing the butler's respectful tone, Sean's mood soured even further.

That person never showed up.

The reason he had joined the summer camp in the first place was because a mysterious manga artist, H, was supposed to be there. Her comics had become incredibly popular over the years. As the young master of the Green family, he had no reason to attend a summer camp.

But this artist had drawn an illustration of a handsome young boy-one that looked almost identical to him. The picture was filled with warmth, giving him a sense of maternal comfort.

So, he had taken matters into his own hands and signed up for the camp, determined to meet her. Yet, she never showed up. After three days of waiting, he left in frustration. Now, his mood was absolutely terrible.

"I need to use the restroom," Sean suddenly announced, hopping off the chair.

The butler gave a small nod. "Alright, but don't take too long. I'll be waiting here."

***