My Wife's Livestream Scandal - Chapter 4: Chapter 4
You are reading My Wife's Livestream Scandal, Chapter 4: Chapter 4. Read more chapters of My Wife's Livestream Scandal.
The woman wore a crisp white nurse's uniform, her face completely hidden behind a black mask—only her piercing eyes visible.
But anyone could see it—this streamer was gorgeous.
And that body—Christ. The short skirt barely covered anything, revealing legs that went on for miles, pale and smooth, practically begging to be looked at.
"Alright, boys, listen up!" Marco Valentino's voice cut through the stream, loud and cocky. "This one's a married nurse—hubby's some code monkey. No bullshit. Last round, let's go! No more waiting!"
Then—black screen.
Son of a bitch.
I clenched my jaw, fingers flying as I caved and dumped 888 coins into the damn app. By the time the stream reloaded, it was already in full swing.
And this time—outdoors.
The nurse was pressed against a tree, her back to the camera, that tight little skirt riding up just enough to show off every sinful curve.
Marco was behind her, moving in a way that left nothing to the imagination, all while egging the chat on—"Tip more, and I'll give you a better angle!"
Still, no face.
Who the hell was she?
Someone in the chat threw money, demanding she turn around.
She hesitated, playing shy, keeping her face turned away. The dim glow of the woods made it impossible to see clearly. Then, suddenly, she was on her back in the grass, Marco looming over her.
It was filthy.
But the longer I watched, the tighter my chest got.
Because something wasn't right.
Even with her face hidden, the shape of her—the slope of her waist, the way her legs bent—it was all too familiar.
Then I saw it.
The mole.
Right there, just above her chest.
Exactly where Vivian had one.
Another fucking coincidence?
Or was that her?
My pulse roared in my ears as I spammed screenshots, desperate for proof. A dozen blurry images later, I still couldn't tell.
I scanned the background—thick trees, probably the outskirts.
Less than thirty minutes from Beverly Hills Medical Center.
Where Vivian worked.
I couldn't breathe.
Keys in hand, I bolted for the car, tires screeching as I tore toward the hospital.
The drive was a blur, the night swallowing the road whole. By the time I got close, the stream had ended.
I never saw her face.
At the hospital, I called Vivian. No answer.
The doors were locked.
The night guard shrugged. "She left around seven. No surgeries tonight—just daytime procedures."
My stomach dropped.
She'd lied.
Why say she was working late?
Where the hell was she?
Was that really her in Marco's stream?
I called again. And again.
Finally, she picked up, voice sharp. "Ethan, are you serious right now? I told you I was working!"
This time, my voice was steel. "I'm at the hospital. It's closed. Where are you?"
A beat of silence. Then—"Fine. I lied. But it's not what you think. I'm coming home. We'll talk there."
"Where are you? Send me your location. Now."
If her GPS put her near those woods, I'd have my answer.
And God help me—I prayed I was wrong.
But anyone could see it—this streamer was gorgeous.
And that body—Christ. The short skirt barely covered anything, revealing legs that went on for miles, pale and smooth, practically begging to be looked at.
"Alright, boys, listen up!" Marco Valentino's voice cut through the stream, loud and cocky. "This one's a married nurse—hubby's some code monkey. No bullshit. Last round, let's go! No more waiting!"
Then—black screen.
Son of a bitch.
I clenched my jaw, fingers flying as I caved and dumped 888 coins into the damn app. By the time the stream reloaded, it was already in full swing.
And this time—outdoors.
The nurse was pressed against a tree, her back to the camera, that tight little skirt riding up just enough to show off every sinful curve.
Marco was behind her, moving in a way that left nothing to the imagination, all while egging the chat on—"Tip more, and I'll give you a better angle!"
Still, no face.
Who the hell was she?
Someone in the chat threw money, demanding she turn around.
She hesitated, playing shy, keeping her face turned away. The dim glow of the woods made it impossible to see clearly. Then, suddenly, she was on her back in the grass, Marco looming over her.
It was filthy.
But the longer I watched, the tighter my chest got.
Because something wasn't right.
Even with her face hidden, the shape of her—the slope of her waist, the way her legs bent—it was all too familiar.
Then I saw it.
The mole.
Right there, just above her chest.
Exactly where Vivian had one.
Another fucking coincidence?
Or was that her?
My pulse roared in my ears as I spammed screenshots, desperate for proof. A dozen blurry images later, I still couldn't tell.
I scanned the background—thick trees, probably the outskirts.
Less than thirty minutes from Beverly Hills Medical Center.
Where Vivian worked.
I couldn't breathe.
Keys in hand, I bolted for the car, tires screeching as I tore toward the hospital.
The drive was a blur, the night swallowing the road whole. By the time I got close, the stream had ended.
I never saw her face.
At the hospital, I called Vivian. No answer.
The doors were locked.
The night guard shrugged. "She left around seven. No surgeries tonight—just daytime procedures."
My stomach dropped.
She'd lied.
Why say she was working late?
Where the hell was she?
Was that really her in Marco's stream?
I called again. And again.
Finally, she picked up, voice sharp. "Ethan, are you serious right now? I told you I was working!"
This time, my voice was steel. "I'm at the hospital. It's closed. Where are you?"
A beat of silence. Then—"Fine. I lied. But it's not what you think. I'm coming home. We'll talk there."
"Where are you? Send me your location. Now."
If her GPS put her near those woods, I'd have my answer.
And God help me—I prayed I was wrong.
End of My Wife's Livestream Scandal Chapter 4. Continue reading Chapter 5 or return to My Wife's Livestream Scandal book page.