Triplet Babies for the Billionaire (Happy Ever Alpha Daddies)

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Blossom

I sit at the small, creaky desk in the corner of our barely furnished studio apartment, staring at the cracked window panes that never quite close all the way.

The faint whistling of the wind sneaks through the gaps, and I pull the knitted blanket tighter around me.

The ceiling’s covered in water stains, a constant reminder of the leaky roof above us that the landlord hasn’t bothered to fix.

Every time it rains, I half-expect it to cave in on us.

For now, though, I’m more focused on the email sitting in my inbox.

I press my fingers against the keyboard hesitantly, like maybe I can slow down time if I take my sweet time opening it.

The subject line reads, “Emergency Wedding Photographer Needed – Tomorrow.” It’s my shot.

I tap the mouse, and the email opens. It’s from a wedding coordinator I’ve worked with before. Her original photographer bailed at the last minute, and she’s asking if I can step in.

I scan the details quickly. A high-end wedding. In the city. Tomorrow. My heart starts beating a little faster. This could be my big break.

I hear Amy in the next room, humming as she changes after getting home from work. Her bright blue eyes peek around the doorframe, her blonde bob bouncing with every step. “Well?” she asks, practically bouncing on her heels.

I don’t even say anything. Instead, I turn the screen toward her. Her eyes widen, and she gasps.

“You got it! That’s amazing, Bee!” she squeals, flinging her arms around me, almost knocking over the mug of iced mocha I’ve had next to me for hours.

I stare at the email again, unable to wipe the grin off my face. I got it . I really got it. This is my chance to step up. The gig is huge, well, for me at least. A high-end wedding in the city? This is exactly the kind of opportunity I’ve been dying for. But then reality hits. The excitement fades as fast as it came.

I turn to Amy, my voice dropping slightly. “But the bartending gig at the Hudson Hotel...I’m still not sure. What if I mess up?” I chew on the inside of my cheek.

Amy rolls her eyes, walking into the room with her hands on her hips. “First of all, you’re amazing at photography. You know that. Second of all, I’m the one who’s got your back at the bar. It’s a fancy hotel, Bee. You can handle it. Besides, what's the worst that can happen? You mix up a drink, but people still get drunk, and they’ll love you anyway.”

“Right,” I mutter, unsure. “It’s just...what if I’m terrible? What if they fire me?”

“You’ve got this, Bee. You know how to work a camera and a cocktail shaker—just give it a shot.” Amy grins, her infectious optimism outweighing my doubts. "Besides, we need the cash."

I nod, trying to steady my nerves. Amy’s right. I can do this.

Amy’s already on her phone, offering me a last-minute pep talk as she heads out the door. “You need to calm down. No risk, no reward, right? This is like the time we snuck into that club in Jersey and didn’t get caught. It’s the same thing, but with more fancy people and way more expensive drinks.”

I can’t help but laugh at her. Amy’s all jokes and snark, but she’s also one of the most optimistic people I know. She always knows how to make me feel like everything will be fine.

“Yeah, I guess. No reward if I mess up, though,” I grumble, my eyes still scanning the email for any new details I might have missed.

Amy stops in the doorway, throwing a wink over her shoulder. “No one’s gonna remember the girl who mixed up the Cosmopolitan. But the girl who landed a gig at a wedding ? That’s the girl people remember. You’ve got this.”

I feel a little bit more at ease, and it helps that Amy’s enthusiasm is as infectious as ever.

“You’re right. Okay, let's celebrate. Even if we don’t have much cash, we’re going to enjoy tonight.”

Amy’s eyes light up. “Pizza and cheap wine. It’s the New York way, Bee.”

The city’s pulse wraps around us as we step outside. Manhattan is electric tonight, the lights flashing and the honking taxis weaving through the streets.

The sidewalks are crowded with people of all kinds, tourists snapping pictures, locals with a look of purpose on their faces, and the occasional businessman in a suit who looks like he’s just walked off the set of Sex and The City .

The air smells like street food and exhaust, but it’s all part of the charm.

We walk toward the nearest pizza joint, the neon sign glowing brightly above the entrance. As we step inside, the familiar scent of melting cheese and pepperoni fills the air.

“I’ll take a slice with everything,” I tell Amy, looking over the glass counter.

“Same,” she says, leaning against the counter with a sigh. “I can’t believe we’re already a month into being here in this city. It’s crazy.”

I glance around at the bustling pizza shop, listening to the laughter from the booths and the noise of the arcade machines in the back. It’s all so alive, so different from the quiet suburb I left behind. Here, every corner holds something new.

We sit by the window, devouring our cheesy, crusty slices of heaven. People pass by outside, tourists with shopping bags, groups of friends, and couples holding hands. The lights of Times Square are just a few blocks away, and I catch myself staring at the glow of the signs as they flicker like a never-ending dream.

The wedding’s tomorrow, and everything is about to change.

***

I arrive at the winery venue a little earlier than I need to, hoping to get a feel for the space before the chaos begins.

The sprawling vineyard stretches out behind the old stone building, bathed in the golden glow of the early afternoon sun. The scent of the grapes in the air mixes with the faintest hint of fresh grass and floral arrangements being set up around the ceremony site. It’s a gorgeous day, and the setting is like something out of a fairy tale.

The wedding planners are bustling about, arranging tables draped in white linens and soft pink florals, while servers make sure the champagne towers are in place.

I slip my camera strap over my neck and start taking test shots of the venue, hoping to capture some of the natural beauty before the guests arrive.

The bridal party is getting ready inside, and I’m introduced to the bride and her bridesmaids. The bride, Kelsey, is stunning in a silk robe, her golden hair falling in soft waves around her face. The bridesmaids wear soft lavender gowns, and their laughter fills the room as I snap a few candid shots.

I’m focused on the moment when I hear the unmistakable shuffle of feet outside, and I glance up just in time to catch sight of the groomsmen arriving.

One of them, in particular, catches my eye. He’s a handsome man with salt and pepper hair and a face that looks like it’s been carved from stone. He stands out among the others, his presence commanding. He catches my gaze for a moment, and I quickly turn my head, pretending I didn’t notice.

But it’s hard to ignore him. Something about him, something intense , lingers.

The ceremony begins as the soft sound of string instruments fill the air. The guests take their seats, and the sun, now lower in the sky, casts long shadows across the vineyard, giving everything an ethereal glow as the bride makes her entrance, her arm linked with her father’s.

I get into position, capturing the moment with my camera, and watch as Kelsey’s delicate veil billows behind her like a dream. The crowd watches in awe, some with hands clasped in front of them, others wiping at their eyes. Her father looks at her with pride, and I can see the bittersweet emotion in his eyes.

The groom stands at the altar, a smile breaking out on his face as he sees her. His mother, sitting in the front row, dabs her eyes with a tissue. I snap a photo of her as she tries to control her tears—her dress, almost too close to white, makes me pause for a second, but I continue shooting. The intimacy of the moment is so raw, so beautiful.

The maid of honor stands next to the bride, tears streaming down her face as she watches the couple exchange vows. Her hand rests gently on Kelsey’s shoulder, and I catch the exact moment she squeezes it in support.

The decor is flawless: white and lavender florals surround the altar, intertwined with delicate vines that twist around the oak wooden beams overhead. String lights are strung between the trees, casting a soft glow. It’s simple yet stunning. Everything about this wedding speaks of timeless love, and I’m honored to be here, capturing it all.

After the ceremony ends, the cocktail hour begins. The guests migrate to the reception area, sipping on champagne and nibbling hors d’oeuvres while the bridal party gets ready for the official photos. I’m doing my usual thing, getting group shots, snapping pictures of the guests mingling, but my attention keeps drifting back to him.

The older groomsman.

Noah.

I finally overheard someone call him by name earlier.

It’s hard not to notice him.

His icy blue eyes seem to flicker in my direction every now and then, and I can’t help but feel a bit nervous under his gaze. He’s tall, commanding, and just...effortlessly handsome. But I remind myself that I’m here for the photos, not for distractions.

When I move to take pictures of the groomsmen, he’s standing a little too close for comfort, and my heart skips a beat. He’s talking with another groomsman, and for a second, I’m thankful that he’s not paying attention to me.

But that’s when it happens.

Without thinking, I call out, “Hey, Noah, maybe don’t stand so close to the other guy. I’m trying to get a clean shot here!” The words are out before I can stop them, and the entire group turns to look at me, a stunned silence hanging in the air.

Noah blinks, clearly embarrassed, his jaw tightening for just a moment. “You’ve got a sharp eye,” he mutters dryly, his voice suddenly colder than before.

My cheeks flush, and I immediately regret the outburst.

It’s a strange, tense moment, and I quickly redirect my attention back to the photos. But the air between us has shifted, and it’s undeniable. His eyes follow me as I walk away.

Later, during the reception, I find myself circling the dance floor, taking candid shots of the happy couple as they share their first dance. The music swells, and the guests surround them in a soft glow. But my attention keeps slipping back to Noah.

He’s standing near the bar now, talking to a few other guests, but his gaze keeps catching mine across the room. He’s got a quiet, commanding energy that draws people in, but when he finally walks over to where I’m standing, I freeze for a second. He’s close, too close, and I suddenly feel that familiar flutter in my chest.

“Nice shot earlier,” he says, his tone a little wry. “You caught me off guard there.”

I smile, my nerves settling into something lighter. “Well, someone had to remind you to behave.”

He smirks. “Maybe I needed the reminder.”

We fall into an easy, teasing banter, and I find myself enjoying the back-and-forth more than I expected. It’s strange, this chemistry, this magnetic pull between us. He’s charming and sharp, but there’s something more behind his eyes, something guarded.

It’s only been a few weeks since I broke up with Zack, but I’m already starting to feel like this , whatever this is, feels like an unuttered agreement. A promise of what's to come.

Noah seems to sense it, too. His smile lingers, his eyes a little warmer than before.

However, before the moment can go any further, I pull away, raising my camera to capture a spontaneous moment of the bride and groom spinning across the floor.

The attraction is undeniable, but the timing is still off.

For now.