The Billionaire's Secret Triplets: Mom's Revenge

The customs officer offered a tight, synthetic smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Ma'am, I'm going to need you to step into the waiting area. The system is... rebooting."

Annelise felt the blood drain from her face. It wasn't a reboot. It was a stall tactic.

Beside her, Algernon adjusted his glasses. They were slightly too big for his face, sliding down his nose. He looked like a miniature, concerned accountant. He glanced up at the officer, then down at the digital watch on his left wrist.

It wasn't a normal watch. It was a Frankenstein device he had built from scrap parts and a stolen smartphone processor back in London.

Algernon tapped the screen. His small fingers moved in a blur.

Accessing Port Authority Network... Bypassing Firewall... Triggering false security alert, Terminal 4.

Suddenly, the overhead speakers crackled with a deafening screech of static.

Attention all personnel! A stern, official voice boomed through the hall. "Security breach reported in Terminal 4, Sector Gamma. All available agents respond immediately."

The lights in the customs hall flickered violently. The computer screen in front of the officer went black, then flashed a bright, neon green smiley face before resetting to the default "ACCESS GRANTED" screen.

The officer stared at the monitor, bewildered. He tapped the keys. Nothing worked except the "Approve" function.

I... uh... The officer looked at the chaotic line forming behind Annelise. He saw other officers starting to move toward the exit, responding to the alert. "Go ahead. Just go. The system cleared you."

He stamped the passports hurriedly, desperate to get them out of his face so he could deal with the malfunction.

Annelise didn't question the miracle. She grabbed the passports. "Thank you."

She ushered the kids through the gate, walking fast. As they passed the barrier, she glanced down at Algernon. He was innocent, looking around at the ceiling tiles, but the corner of his mouth was quirked up in a tiny, satisfied smirk.

Algernon, she whispered warningly.

The firewall was rudimentary, Mother, he murmured back. "It was offensive to my intelligence."

Annelise let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. They were through. They were legally in the United States.

They reached the baggage claim, retrieved their two battered suitcases, and pushed through the sliding glass doors into the Arrivals Hall.

The noise hit them like a physical wave. A wall of people, signs, shouting taxi drivers, and the chaotic energy of New York.

Taxi line is that way, Annelise said, pointing to the right.

Wait. Clemie stopped dead in her tracks. She dropped her teddy bear by one arm and pointed a shaking finger at a metal trash can near a pillar about twenty feet away.

Clemie, come on, Annelise urged, trying to pull her.

No, Mommy! Clemie plugged her nose. "Hot! It smells hot! Like... like the batteries Blace melts!"

Blace's ears perked up. He broke formation and darted toward the trash can.

Blace! Get back here! Annelise hissed.

Blace ignored her. He leaned in, sniffed the air like a bloodhound, and grinned. "Lithium ion thermal runaway," he announced loudly. "Cool!"

A split second later, a popping sound came from the bin. Thick white smoke began to billow out, followed by a sudden flare of orange flame. Someone had thrown a faulty power bank into the trash.

Fire! someone screamed.

Panic rippled through the crowd. People scrambled away from the trash can.

See? Clemie said proudly, picking up her bear. "I told you."

Annelise's heart was hammering. "Okay, okay, you were right. Now let's use the distraction to get a cab."

She knelt down, grabbing Blace by the back of his shirt and pulling him back to the group. "Listen to me. All of you. No hacking. No sniffing out fires. No fighting. We are invisible. We are mice. Understand?"

I don't want to be a mouse, Blace grumbled. "I want to be a tiger."

Be a mouse or we go to jail, Annelise said sternly.

Look out! Algernon warned, pulling Annelise back.

A wall of flashing lights blinded them.

A phalanx of photographers was moving backward, snapping pictures aggressively. In the center of the storm was a woman who looked like she had stepped out of a magazine cover.

Jenelle Santiago.

She was wearing six-inch stiletto heels, white skinny jeans, and a fur vest that probably cost more than Annelise's entire life earnings. She was walking with her chin high, talking loudly into a phone, ignoring the peasants around her.

I know, Archie is waiting in the car, Jenelle was saying, her voice shrill. "Make sure you get my good side when he eventually gets out."

The crowd of paparazzi forced Annelise and the kids against the wall.

Move it! a bodyguard in a black suit shouted, shoving a bystander aside.

Clemie, disoriented by the flashing lights, stumbled. Her small rolling suitcase tipped over and slid right into Jenelle's path.

Jenelle stopped. She looked down at the cheap, pink plastic suitcase with disdain. Then her eyes moved to Clemie.

Watch where you're going, you little brat, Jenelle snapped.

Annelise froze. The mother lion in her chest woke up and roared.

Clemie shrank back, her lip trembling. "I'm sorry..."

Jenelle rolled her eyes. "Where are your parents? letting vermin run loose in the airport..." She raised her foot and kicked the pink suitcase aside. It skidded across the floor and hit the wall with a crack.

That was it.

Blace let out a low growl. His fists clenched at his sides.

Algernon stepped back into the shadow of a pillar, tapping his watch again. Disabling local security cameras... Now.

Jenelle reached out, her long, manicured fingernails aiming to push Clemie out of her personal space.

Move, Jenelle hissed.

Her hand never made contact.

Annelise moved faster than she ever thought possible. She intercepted the strike, her hand clamping around Jenelle's wrist like a vice.

Jenelle gasped, shocked. She looked up, meeting Annelise's eyes.

Annelise wasn't the scared girl from the hotel room anymore. Her eyes were cold, hard flint.

Don't, Annelise said, her voice low and dangerous. "Touch. My. Daughter."

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