All Chapters of The CEO’s Secret Triplets: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

"You’re taller than the man in the drawing," Julianna said.​She didn't take her hand out of her brother’s grasp, her small fingers anchoring herself to Lucas as she looked up at Dante. She wasn't looking at his dark coat or the expensive leather of his shoes; her focus was entirely on the hard, familiar set of his chin.​Dante slowly knelt down into the tall orchard grass, his knees sinking into the damp clover until he was at eye level with her. "What drawing, Julianna?"​"The one Evelyn left under the clock," Lucas said, his voice surprisingly deep for a five-year-old, carrying that flat, unblinking gravity that Dante recognized every single morning when Leo woke up. The boy shifted his weight, his small boots crunching on an apple twig. "She said a tall man would come when the keys stopped working."​Bella took a step forward, her movements slow, as if a sudden gesture might shatter the fragile green light filtering through the trees. She knelt beside Dante, the hem of her trouser

"The red truck can't fit in the bag," Julianna said.​She stood by the low wicker hamper in her bedroom, her small brow furrowed as she tried to force a chipped, wooden toy vehicle into the corner of a canvas rucksack. Bella was on her knees beside her, her dark sleeves rolled up as she carefully smoothed out three pairs of denim overalls to make more space.​"Let’s try turning it sideways, sweetie," Bella said, her voice dropping into that soft, rhythmic rhythm she used when Maya had a meltdown over her shoes. She took the truck, tilting the wooden wheels until it slid neatly between the layers of fabric. "See? There's room for the trailer now, too."​Julianna looked down at the packed bag, then up at Bella's face, her dark eyes wide and serious. "Are there trucks in the valley?"​"Toby has an entire box of them under his bed," Bella said, a genuine smile finally touching her lips, smoothing out the tight lines of fatigue around her eyes. "Most of them are missing the wheels because

"The red truck is on the rug," Toby said.​He didn't move from his spot near the corner of the small pine coffee table, his fingers curled tight around the tail of Maya’s stuffed rabbit. His small knees were locked, his dark eyes wide and unblinking as the heavy oak front door swung inward, letting a sharp gust of cold mountain fog roll across the linoleum.​Dante entered first, carrying the two canvas rucksacks by their straps, his large frame instantly shrinking the narrow hallway. Right behind him was Bella, her hand tucked firmly into the small of Julianna’s back, guiding the little girl over the high wooden threshold. Lucas followed last, his boots leaving two small, wet red-clay circles on the braided mat.​The cottage went completely quiet, save for the rhythmic, heavy hiss of the black iron kettle warming on Sofia’s stove in the kitchen.​Sofia stood by the pantry door, her apron strings tied tight, a large white dishcloth clutched in both hands. She didn't speak. She didn't m

The rain began at four in the morning, a steady, heavy mountain downpour that rattled the tin flashing over the kitchen window and turned the gravel driveway into a grey canal.​Dante stood by the sideboard, a white porcelain mug clamped in his right hand, his eyes scanning a three-page fax from Clara’s clerk in Boston. The ink was slightly blurred at the edges from the cottage’s damp thermal paper, but the message was clear enough: Probate challenge deferred to the October docket. Expect local asset inquiries by certified mail.​"Arthur says the creek road is still open," Bella said, walking into the kitchen with her boots already laced. She hadn't put her coat on yet, but her khaki canvas shirt was buttoned to the collar, her dark hair pinned back with a plastic claw clip that had a missing tooth. "But the lower culvert near the mailbox is bubbling."​Dante didn't fold the fax. He laid it flat on the oilcloth table, his thumb pressing down on the curling edge to hold it still. "The

The heater in the old green pickup truck hissed a steady, dry stream of air that smelled of copper and old floor mats. Outside, the downpour had slowed to a heavy, grey mountain drizzle, turning the spruce trees along the baseline road into a blur of dark green triangles.​Dante kept both hands on the cracked steering wheel, his large frame hunched slightly forward to keep his head from brushing the stained headliner. He didn't look at the rearview mirror, where the dirt road up to the cottage was already disappearing behind a wall of grey mist.​"Arthur has the secondary battery for the cellar pump," Dante said, his voice dropping below the steady rumble of the engine. "If the creek road closes at the lower culvert, he’ll move the wood box to the porch."​Bella sat with her knees pulled close to the dashboard, her fingers tracing the edge of her canvas rucksack on her lap. She was still wearing his old green flannel shirt, the cuffs turned up twice to clear her wrists. "Sofia knows ab