Page 59 of Secret Baby for the Triplets

“Oh no?” I ask sarcastically. “You were just going to deceive us again and hope for the best?”

“Toby, why don’t you give us some time with Emerson alone?” Owen suggests.

“Fuck no!” I snarl. “I’m just as much invested in this shitshow as the rest of you. Whatever you decide to do with her, I get a say in it, too!”

Emerson recoils as if I’ve struck her. A smidgen of guilt spikes through me, but she deserves it.

There were so many lies, from Vegas to the baby, and now this DNA bullshit. I will never trust her again, as long as I live.

Besides, a DNA test won’t determine anything. We’re fucking identical triplets, but I am too mad to say anything.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, dropping her head. “I didn’t come here intending to cause trouble.

“Well, you failed at that,” I inform her. “You caused a shit ton of trouble.”

“You know what?” Brock interrupts. “Let’s not talk about this tonight. Emotions are running a little high. Let’s meet for breakfast tomorrow and decide how to handle this.”

“No! I don’t want her in the house again. She’ll probably rob us blind.” I stand again to stalk toward the door. “We’ll meet at the office.”

I see Owen’s reproving look, but I don’t care. Emerson earned every ounce of my bitterness.

“Will you meet us in the office in the morning?” Brock relents.

“Okay,” Emerson answers weakly.

I storm out of the coach house, not waiting for my brothers to follow, but Owen catches up to me.

“You have to control your temper,” he warns. “The baby she’s carrying could be yours. And if it’s not, it’s your niece or nephew.”

His words only incense me. My head whips toward him. “Why didn’t she tell us? She never cared about us at all, did she?”

Owen’s mouth twitches regretfully, but he doesn’t answer as I stomp toward the house.

Even if she is the mother of our child, I’ll never forgive her. That much, I’m sure of.

* * *

It’s not an easy night for any of us. I don’t sleep, and neither do my brothers, as we each try to avoid the inevitable truth. We were all taken full advantage of by a cunning, calculating woman.

“How did we not see it?” Owen questions over coffee at the kitchen island. “I mean, I knew there was something about her, but I couldn’t place it.”

Brock swallows a sip of coffee. “Me too. Maybe if I’d just said something sooner…”

I’m equally furious, but only with Emerson. She had known all along and fully played us for fools.

“This isn’t on us. She probably hunted us down,” I growl, concocting a whole story in my head. “Sought us out—where did we even find her?”

Owen and Brock look at one another and then name the casino in unison.

I flush, embarrassed that they remember more than me. Somehow, it makes me madder.

“Why didn’t you recognize her?” I accuse them. “Just because she changed her hair color?”

Brock rolls his eyes and stands, ambling out of the kitchen. “Stop throwing guilt around. This is just as much on you as it is on us.”

I clamp my lips together, hating to admit that he’s right. I’m not even mad at them, but I am mad.

“Look,” Owen sighs, dropping a hand on my shoulder comfortingly. “Go get some rest, and we’ll talk about this rationally in the morning. Let’s try to look at this from Emerson’s perspective. She probably didn’t know what to do?—”

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