For weeks, it was the same.

Every day the neighbors came. Every day they took her, claimed her, wrecked her body and made her moan until she collapsed. The bruises never faded. Her pussy never got a chance to close.

And Stiles loved every second of it.

She belonged to them—her body, her moans, her cunt, her ass, her throat. She was their wife more than Jackson’s, their slut more than his partner.

But one morning, she woke to silence.

The trucks were gone. The tools were gone. The house next door was empty.

Whispers floated through the street. “They weren’t really workers… just cons. Disappeared overnight.”

Jackson gasped when he heard. “Thank god! Who knows what trouble they were mixed up in? We’re lucky, Stiles. Lucky they’re gone.”

Stiles forced a small smile, nodding. “Yes… lucky.”

But inside, her chest was hollow.

That night, when Jackson went to bed, Stiles sat in the dark, her hand stroking her belly.

She was late. So late.

And the test she’d taken flashed in her mind: two bright lines.

She wasn’t just pregnant.

At the clinic, the ultrasound screen had lit up. Three heartbeats.

Triplets.

Stiles had stared at the black-and-white image, her throat tight, her thighs clenching.

Three babies.

Her lips curled into a secret smile as she thought, One for Derek. One for Scott. One for Peter.

Not Jackson’s. Never Jackson’s.

But he would never know.

—

A week later, she finally told him.

She stood in the living room, the ultrasound photo clutched in her hand. Her voice trembled as she said, “Jackson… I have news.”

He looked up from his laptop, eyes wide. “What is it, babe?”

Her eyes watered, the smile breaking across her face. “I’m pregnant.”

The laptop slid off his lap as Jackson gasped, hands flying to his mouth. “W-What?! Are you serious?”

Stiles nodded, tears spilling. “Yes. And… it’s not just one. It’s three. Triplets.”

For a moment, he froze, shock flooding his face. And then his eyes shone, and he laughed, pulling her into his arms despite his weak legs.

“Triplets! Oh my god, Stiles! You—you’ve given me everything I ever dreamed of!”

He kissed her face, her hands, the ultrasound photo, his body trembling with joy. “We’re going to be parents, Stiles. I’m going to be a father.”

Stiles buried her face in his shoulder, letting him believe, letting him hold her like she was his everything.

Her smile was soft, her eyes glistening.

Because Jackson would never know.

That while he wept with joy, his wife’s belly was swelling with the seed of three men.

Her secret. Her pleasure. Her truth.

She rubbed her belly, feeling warm, a small giggle slipping past her lips.

The men were gone… but they had left her something that would never disappear.

Triplets. Proof of how much of a slut she really was.

And as Jackson kissed her again and again, whispering thank you, thank you, Stiles just smirked to herself.

Because deep down, she wasn’t thanking him.

She was thanking them.