The CEO's Fake Wife And Secret Triplets

"Stop fidgeting," Seraphina whispered, her hand pressing firmly against Pax's shoulder.

The ballroom of the Plaza Hotel thrummed with the kind of money that could buy small countries. Crystal chandeliers cast blinding prisms across silk gowns and diamond necklaces. Seraphina stood in the far corner, a ghost in her borrowed, slightly-too-tight black dress, trying to make herself invisible. Her phone, tucked away in a small clutch, felt like a lead weight. She'd seen the email from Mount Sinai just before they'd left the apartment, the subject line a punch to the gut: Urgent Update on Fiona's Treatment Plan. She hadn't dared to open it, but she knew what it meant. More tests, more experimental drugs, more money she didn't have.

"I'm not fidgeting," Pax muttered, his eyes darting around the room. At five years old, he looked like any other kid in his miniature suit, but the old tablet he clutched under the tablecloth was a dead giveaway. He wasn't here for the canapés.

Rowan leaned against her left leg, quiet as a shadow, while Fiona tugged on Seraphina's right sleeve. "Mommy, I'm still hungry."

Seraphina scanned the nearest waiter's tray. Only one mini grilled cheese sandwich left. She grabbed it, breaking it into three tiny pieces. "Here. Share."

Fiona popped her piece into her mouth, her eyes drifting toward the stage where a man in a tailored tuxedo commanded the microphone. Donovan Vance. He looked like he was carved from marble, cold and untouchable.

"Mommy," Fiona whispered, her eyes wide, "is that man a king?"

Seraphina's stomach dropped. A memory flashed-sticky heat, darkness, a heavy weight, and a blinding panic that stole her breath. She blinked it away, her hand instinctively moving to cover her wrist. "No, sweetie. Just a man. Eat your cheese."

On stage, the host, Miles Baxter, clapped his hands. "And now, the moment you've all been waiting for! The Vance Foundation Annual Children's Charity Raffle!"

The massive screens behind him exploded into a whirlwind of scrolling names. Seraphina grabbed the kids' hands. "Okay, time to go. We ate, we saw, we leave."

"But the spinning pictures!" Fiona whined, digging her heels into the plush carpet. "I want to see who wins!"

Seraphina tugged, but Fiona was surprisingly stubborn. Under the tablecloth, Pax's fingers flew across his tablet. A faint smile touched his lips. He wasn't hacking the system itself-that was impossible. But he had found a loophole in the guest registration portal an hour earlier. A simple glitch. Names entered in the final thirty seconds before the raffle began were temporarily cached at the top of the display's rendering queue. He'd typed their name in at the precise moment the host started speaking. He tapped the screen twice, submitting the entry.

The screens on stage stuttered for a fraction of a second. The scrolling slowed, the names blurring, until they locked onto three words in bold gold font.

FLETCHER TRIPLETS.

The room went silent. A spotlight swung from the stage, slicing through the dim lighting