Accidental Triplets with the Billionaire novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: The Last Three

Nathan Corwin offers five million for the babies; Letty keeps her say, and her phone fills with news of reporters on her mother's lawn.

The two lawyers started talking at once.

One of them said "carrier agreement" and the other said "immediate custody review."

I held up my hand.

"I'll talk to him," I said. "Not you two."

Nathan Corwin looked at me for a second.

Then he said, "Wait outside," and they went, like dogs who knew the voice.

The coffee shop across the street was loud and smelled like burnt sugar.

I chose the table by the window and ordered decaf.

He ordered nothing and sat very straight.

"Ms. Penhale, I'll be direct."

"Please."

"You're carrying my children. I'd like to take responsibility for them."

"That's one way to say it."

He slid a card across the table with a number written on the back.

Five million dollars.

"For carrying them to term," he said. "Your medical care, a house of your choosing, and everything after the birth. I'll raise them."

I picked up the card and read the number twice.

Then I laid it back down very gently.

"Mr. Corwin, two hours ago a woman offered me two hundred thousand dollars to end this."

His jaw moved. "I wasn't told that."

"I said no."

"Why?"

"Because there are three heartbeats in there and I've heard all of them."

He had no answer for that.

His eyes dropped to my hand, still flat on my stomach, and stayed there.

"Do you want to hear them?" I asked.

He looked up fast.

I turned my phone around and played the clip the sonographer had let me record.

Three small fluttering sounds filled the table, fast and overlapping.

Nathan went completely still.

Nobody in that coffee shop knew a stranger's face was coming apart three feet away from them.

He covered his mouth with his fist.

When he lowered it his eyes were wet and furious about it.

"I haven't walked into that room in two years," he said. "The freezer room. I paid the fee every month and never went."

"Why not?"

"Because if I went, I'd have to decide."

"Well." I turned off the clip. "Somebody decided."

He wiped his face once, roughly.

"Then let's decide properly. I want them, Ms. Penhale. All three."

"They're not a purchase."

"I didn't say they were."

"You handed me a card with a price on it."

His mouth tightened, and I thought for a second he might actually apologize.

Instead he said, "It was a bad card."

I laughed before I could stop myself.

It was the first time I'd laughed since the scan, and it hurt, and it was good.

Something in his shoulders eased half an inch.

"Here's what I'll agree to," I said. "I'm carrying them, and I carry them my way. Nobody tells me what to eat, where to live or who sits in the room with me."

"Agreed."

"You don't get to buy my mother's silence, either. She doesn't know yet."

"Agreed."

"And you stop using the word custody in front of me until I've stopped feeling sick."

He almost smiled.

"Your doctor will want to see you again tomorrow," he said. "Mine can meet you there. Or not. Your call."

"Mine."

"Yours."

I stood up, a little dizzy, and he rose with me and caught my elbow before I'd asked.

Then he let go.

"Is it always like this?" he said. "Being pregnant?"

"No. It's usually one baby and a husband who cries at gas stations."

"I'm not a husband."

"I noticed."

He gave me a small, dry look.

My phone buzzed against my palm before he could answer.

It was my mother.

She never texted. She called, loudly, from the kitchen, over the radio.

The text said, "Sweetheart there are men on the lawn with cameras. Are you in trouble? Please call."

A second one came before I'd finished reading.

"One of them just knocked on the neighbor's window and asked if you're a gold digger."

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