The Billionaire's Hidden Heirs

"¡Mierda!" I curse loudly in my native language, as I stub my toe against the couch leg, wincing in pain. All this just to find my four-year-old daughter's missing shoe. She always tosses it somewhere impossible after school, and I swear she does it on purpose just to hear me curse.

"Language, Mummy!" Emily calls out from the dining room, giggling with her twin brother.

"Oh, really?" I shout back. "Wait till I find this shoe and see what I'll do to you with it, Emily Delgado!"

Their laughter only gets louder.

I finally spot the pink shoe tucked under a chair.

"Oh, hallelujah!" I mumble, scanning the room for something to pull it out with. I grab a mop discarded carelessly-because, of course, four-year-olds never put things back where they belong-and carefully drag the shoe closer.

"Found it! Emily, come put it on. You're already late for school, baby. Christian, you too. And don't forget to rinse out your cereal bowls." I call out, brushing the dust off my blazer.

I hear the quick patter of little feet and look up just as my twin babies rush into the room, looking as beautiful as ever.

Smiling, I go over to kiss them both on the cheeks, straightening their uniforms.

They're identical-blonde-haired with captivating gray eyes, a perfect mix of mischief and innocence.

And they're the spitting image of their father.

Anyone who has met Cole would recognize the resemblance instantly. I can't let that happen. So, I'll keep doing what I've been doing for the past four years-keeping them far away from anyone who might put the pieces together.

My heart skips a beat at the thought of Cole. My baby daddy who doesn't even know he's a baby daddy. It's been almost five years since I last saw him, and if things go the way I want, he'll never find out.

I glance down at my kids and force a smile. This is what's best for them.

"Alright, let's go. Time to drop you off at school so Mummy can get to work. You don't want mummy to go late and lose her job, now, do you?" I tease.

Christian scoffs with all the attitude a four-year-old can muster. "So get to stay at home and laze around while we study at school? No way that's gonna happen, mummy!" He says with a cute pout and his sister agrees.

"Yeah, mummy. No lazing around while we do the work!" She chides in and I let out a loud laugh.

"Alright, alright. let's hurry then." I pick up their lunch boxes from the table and follow them out. They skip ahead of me, going out of the door and racing themselves to the car.

"Careful you don't fall!" I shout a warning, struggling to close the door while holding my bag and their lunch boxes. Oh, the struggle of single mothers. But, I love every single moment no matter how hard it gets.

I open the car door, get in, and drive my children to school while they argue about whose pancakes had more syrup on them this morning. In order words, my usual morning drive.

I get off work at 3 PM and head straight to pick up my kids from school. Being a successful interior designer is amazing, but it's also demanding. Five years ago, I met the two best friends I could have ever asked for, and together, we built a thriving interior design business. Things have been going great for us.

Today, I've spent the day visiting clients' homes, discussing their visions, and offering my professional input. One of our rules is that face-to-face meetings and inspections are only available from 9 AM to 3 PM. But today, we have a very important client-according to Lydia-who can only make it at 4 PM.

Situations like this happen sometimes. A high-profile client we can't afford to lose needs a special time slot, and usually, Lydia or Tammy handles it. But they're both swamped, so it's my turn.

I pull up to my kids' school, where they're already outside, chatting with their friends and teachers. The moment they spot me, they start bouncing excitedly, making me smile. They wave goodbye to their friends and race toward the car.

I honk and wave at the teachers-a small thank-you for always staying with the kids, no matter how late pickup gets.

My kids fling open the car door and scramble inside.

"Hello, Mummy!" they chorus.

I turn to face them with a huge smile. "Hey, babies! Mama missed you so much today! Come give me smooches, would you?" I say playfully, tilting my cheeks toward them.

Emily giggles and leans in to kiss my cheek without hesitation. I kiss her back, squeezing her little hand.

But Christian?

"Ugh! Not the smooches again. Mama, you really don't have to do that all the time. My friends are still watching!" He huffs but steps forward anyway, making a big show of his reluctance before pressing a quick kiss to my cheek.

I seize the opportunity, grabbing him and peppering his face with kisses.

"Ahh! Eww! Yuck! Mama, stop!" he groans, squirming as Emily bursts into laughter.

I finally release him, ruffling his hair with a chuckle. He makes a dramatic show of wiping his cheeks with both hands, muttering under his breath.

Shaking my head, I laugh and finally start the car.

"I'm sorry, guys, but we have to take a quick detour, Okay? mama has to attend to some clients, I'll buy you ice cream, Está bien?" I plead.

"Yes! Ice cream! Holy moly, can we get the peanut butter one that we got the other time you were busy too mama?" Emily asks, clapping, and I laugh again.

"Peanut butter's for girls; I'd rather get my mint chocolate flavor." They start another argument on which flavor is better until I interrupt.

"You can get whatever you want, okay? Just as long as you do as I say and....."

"....Stay in the car!" They complete the sentence for me. Yep, they know the drill.

I nod. "Good."

I buy them the ice cream and we drive to the house.

It's located in a top-class neighborhood here in Manhattan, and ¡Santa mierda! What a house it is. A mansion. No, scratch that-it's a masterpiece. My mouth drops open, and for a moment, I forget to breathe.

"Wooooow!" Emily exclaims, her little hands pressed against the car window.

"Cooool!" Christian echoes, his voice filled with childish wonder.

They both lean forward, their faces practically glued to the glass, eager to take in every detail.

Excitement bubbles inside me. If this is the house we're designing, and everything goes well, it could be a game-changer for the firm.

As we drive closer, the massive gate opens automatically, revealing an even more breathtaking view of the mansion.

"Is this heaven, Mama?" Emily whispers in awe, making me chuckle.

"No, silly! Heaven would have milk and honey flowing out of that fountain, not water!" Christian replies confidently.

I glance at the fountain they're talking about and can't help but admire it. It's a work of art. A statue of a woman stands tall in the center, nearly bare except for a cloth wrapped around her waist. She holds an earthenware jug, tilting it slightly, allowing water to cascade gracefully from its mouth. It's mesmerizing.

"Look, Mama! Are those your clients?" Christian leans forward, pointing at two men standing near the grand entrance.

"Huh? Lydia didn't say there would be two men." I mumble to myself, but Christian hears me and laughs.

"Aunt Lydia forgets stuff all the time!" He giggles, and I can't argue with that.

I unbuckle my seatbelt and open the door. "Alright, kids, stay in the car." I shut it firmly and smooth down my blazer, taking a deep breath to steady myself. I put on a practiced smile and walk toward them.

One of the men is facing me. He has dark hair, sharp features, and deep brown eyes. The other man, with his back turned, is taller, broader, and blond. Something about him makes my stomach clench.

The dark-haired man notices me first. He stops talking and gestures for the other man to turn around.

I begin to smile, ready to introduce myself, but the second he turns, my world stops.

My steps falter. My breath catches in my throat. My heart slams against my ribs.

"¡Jorden!" The curse escapes before I can stop it.

His eyes widen, filling with recognition before narrowing, his handsome face twisting into a deep frown.

"What the fuck? Catalina?" His voice is rough, laced with disbelief, and something even sharper that I can't recognize.

I open my mouth, but no words come out. I can only stare at him, frozen in place, praying my kids stay put in the car where they belong.

Because standing right in front of me, in all his impossibly overwhelming presence, is Cole Blackwood.

The CEO of Blackwood Enterprises.

The man I have spent the last four years running from.

And, the father of My kids. My Baby Daddy.