My Wife's Livestream Scandal - Chapter 3: Chapter 3
You are reading My Wife's Livestream Scandal, Chapter 3: Chapter 3. Read more chapters of My Wife's Livestream Scandal.
After scrutinizing the video frame by frame, I was almost positive—the woman in those clips wasn't my wife, Vivian.
First, while their bust sizes were close, the shapes didn't match. Vivian had given birth, so hers had a natural, subtle droop.
Second, in one of the videos, the woman wore a tight black bodycon dress.
Vivian didn't own anything like that.
She'd once told me she despised black clothing—even her lingerie was never black.
What a stroke of luck!
Relief washed over me as I shut off my phone and pulled Vivian into my arms that night.
Thank God I hadn't accused her. That would've been a disaster—needless drama, pointless damage to our marriage.
Guilt gnawed at me, so the next day, I left work early, picked up groceries, and ordered a bouquet of roses through an app. A little surprise to brighten Vivian's day.
I'd even asked her to come home early.
But by nine that night, Vivian still wasn't back. Lily and I sat at the dining table, waiting, until I dozed off.
My daughter's stomach growled as she nudged me. "Daddy, when's dinner?"
Frustrated, I called Vivian. No answer.
Again.
And again.
Finally, she picked up, her voice sharp with irritation. "What? Stop calling! I'm working overtime!"
"You could've told us you weren't coming home for dinner. Lily and I have been waiting for hours."
"Just eat without me! I've got back-to-back surgeries tonight—probably won't finish until midnight. Feed Lily and put her to bed. Don't wait up."
The line went dead.
Anger simmered in my chest.
Vivian didn't even work at a real hospital. She was always pulling these late shifts, yet her paycheck never reflected it—barely scraping five grand a month, a fraction of what I made.
What was the point?
But since it was work-related, I bit back my frustration.
After dinner, I bathed Lily and tucked her in.
Worried, I texted Vivian to ask if she needed a ride. Silence.
Stretched out on the couch, I mindlessly scrolled through videos when Marco—that guy from the car group—dropped a link with a sleazy grin.
"Boys, buckle up! Live stream tonight—hooking up with a smoking hot nurse! Premium content! Download the app, room code 888. Legit as hell!"
The group erupted. Some guys eagerly downloaded the app; others griped about the steep price.
Curiosity got the better of me. I installed it.
The platform was flooded with barely dressed streamers. Some rooms were already broadcasting explicit previews—just ten-second teases before paywalls locked everything down.
Minutes later, Marco's stream went live.
The guy was average—mid-thirties, decent-looking but oozing slimeball charm. His backdrop? A secluded grove on the outskirts of town.
Grinning at the camera, he announced, "Tickets ready, boys! 888 coins, and we go live once we hit capacity. Tonight's star? A nurse from a local medspa—100% real, killer body, face like an angel!"
A medspa nurse?
A cold prickle ran down my spine. Could it be Vivian's workplace?
Dozens of guys paid for access.
I hesitated. The whole thing reeked of a scam.
But I had to know if Marco was for real.
Fifteen minutes later, the woman stepped into frame.
First, while their bust sizes were close, the shapes didn't match. Vivian had given birth, so hers had a natural, subtle droop.
Second, in one of the videos, the woman wore a tight black bodycon dress.
Vivian didn't own anything like that.
She'd once told me she despised black clothing—even her lingerie was never black.
What a stroke of luck!
Relief washed over me as I shut off my phone and pulled Vivian into my arms that night.
Thank God I hadn't accused her. That would've been a disaster—needless drama, pointless damage to our marriage.
Guilt gnawed at me, so the next day, I left work early, picked up groceries, and ordered a bouquet of roses through an app. A little surprise to brighten Vivian's day.
I'd even asked her to come home early.
But by nine that night, Vivian still wasn't back. Lily and I sat at the dining table, waiting, until I dozed off.
My daughter's stomach growled as she nudged me. "Daddy, when's dinner?"
Frustrated, I called Vivian. No answer.
Again.
And again.
Finally, she picked up, her voice sharp with irritation. "What? Stop calling! I'm working overtime!"
"You could've told us you weren't coming home for dinner. Lily and I have been waiting for hours."
"Just eat without me! I've got back-to-back surgeries tonight—probably won't finish until midnight. Feed Lily and put her to bed. Don't wait up."
The line went dead.
Anger simmered in my chest.
Vivian didn't even work at a real hospital. She was always pulling these late shifts, yet her paycheck never reflected it—barely scraping five grand a month, a fraction of what I made.
What was the point?
But since it was work-related, I bit back my frustration.
After dinner, I bathed Lily and tucked her in.
Worried, I texted Vivian to ask if she needed a ride. Silence.
Stretched out on the couch, I mindlessly scrolled through videos when Marco—that guy from the car group—dropped a link with a sleazy grin.
"Boys, buckle up! Live stream tonight—hooking up with a smoking hot nurse! Premium content! Download the app, room code 888. Legit as hell!"
The group erupted. Some guys eagerly downloaded the app; others griped about the steep price.
Curiosity got the better of me. I installed it.
The platform was flooded with barely dressed streamers. Some rooms were already broadcasting explicit previews—just ten-second teases before paywalls locked everything down.
Minutes later, Marco's stream went live.
The guy was average—mid-thirties, decent-looking but oozing slimeball charm. His backdrop? A secluded grove on the outskirts of town.
Grinning at the camera, he announced, "Tickets ready, boys! 888 coins, and we go live once we hit capacity. Tonight's star? A nurse from a local medspa—100% real, killer body, face like an angel!"
A medspa nurse?
A cold prickle ran down my spine. Could it be Vivian's workplace?
Dozens of guys paid for access.
I hesitated. The whole thing reeked of a scam.
But I had to know if Marco was for real.
Fifteen minutes later, the woman stepped into frame.
End of My Wife's Livestream Scandal Chapter 3. Continue reading Chapter 4 or return to My Wife's Livestream Scandal book page.