My Wife's Livestream Scandal - Chapter 7: Chapter 7
You are reading My Wife's Livestream Scandal, Chapter 7: Chapter 7. Read more chapters of My Wife's Livestream Scandal.
I took a deep breath, marking all her messages as unread before sliding the phone back into her bag. Stepping into the hospital room, I kept my face blank—like I hadn't just seen my life unravel.
"Babe, have you seen my phone?" Vivian asked, her voice tight with urgency.
"Right where you left it—in your bag."
I handed it over, watching as she snatched it and scanned the screen. The moment she saw the unread notifications, her shoulders relaxed. "I'm starving," she said casually. "Could you grab me something to eat?"
"Sure. What do you feel like?" I forced my voice to stay even.
"Surprise me."
Downstairs, I logged into a burner account and punched in the number.
Bingo.
Same guy—both in her contacts and WeChat.
His username? Marco Valentino.
Of course. The same bastard from my car club.
My vision blurred with rage, but I swallowed it down. I sent a friend request. Instead of accepting, he fired back: Who's this?
"Friend of a friend," I typed. "Heard you've got some... exclusive content."
I'd used a colleague's photo for the profile. No way I'd tip my hand yet.
"Yeah, got a fresh batch. How much you want? Though fair warning—latest stuff's still raw. Had some... complications."
"Forget it then."
"Whoa, whoa—don't walk away. Even the rough cuts are insane. I deal in the real, uncut shit. Prices? More than fair." A preview clip popped up.
A wooded area. A nurse in a black mask, hips swaying against a tree like some cheap porn fantasy. Beside her, a guy grinned at the camera.
The same damn livestream.
That nurse—was it really Vivian?
And the "husband" they'd mocked? The clueless programmer?
Me.
I wanted to drive my fist through the wall.
No doubt now. This "Marco Valentino" was the same guy who'd used that metal rod on her in the massage room. The same guy from the stream.
He hadn't just violated my wife—he'd monetized it.
I was going to bury him.
My hands shook so badly I could barely type. "Fine. Send it."
The transfer went through. Marco tossed in a laugh with the file: "Bonus clip—unfinished, but all real. Like it? Catch me live next time."
I opened it, teeth grinding hard enough to draw blood.
The video cut mid-scene.
Vivian collapsed on the table, bleeding. Then—a panicked 911 call.
This time, her face was clear.
She lay there, letting him touch her, use her. Eyes rolling back, legs spread like an invitation to the world.
Disgusting.
I clenched my fists so tight my nails bit into my palms. I wanted to storm back upstairs and choke the truth out of her.
But I didn't.
Murder meant prison. And Marco? He'd covered his tracks too well.
Losing control would let them off easy. If I wanted revenge, I had to be smarter.
Right now, only one thought burned in my skull:
Divorce.
Then ruin them.
Or better yet—watch them burn.
"Babe, have you seen my phone?" Vivian asked, her voice tight with urgency.
"Right where you left it—in your bag."
I handed it over, watching as she snatched it and scanned the screen. The moment she saw the unread notifications, her shoulders relaxed. "I'm starving," she said casually. "Could you grab me something to eat?"
"Sure. What do you feel like?" I forced my voice to stay even.
"Surprise me."
Downstairs, I logged into a burner account and punched in the number.
Bingo.
Same guy—both in her contacts and WeChat.
His username? Marco Valentino.
Of course. The same bastard from my car club.
My vision blurred with rage, but I swallowed it down. I sent a friend request. Instead of accepting, he fired back: Who's this?
"Friend of a friend," I typed. "Heard you've got some... exclusive content."
I'd used a colleague's photo for the profile. No way I'd tip my hand yet.
"Yeah, got a fresh batch. How much you want? Though fair warning—latest stuff's still raw. Had some... complications."
"Forget it then."
"Whoa, whoa—don't walk away. Even the rough cuts are insane. I deal in the real, uncut shit. Prices? More than fair." A preview clip popped up.
A wooded area. A nurse in a black mask, hips swaying against a tree like some cheap porn fantasy. Beside her, a guy grinned at the camera.
The same damn livestream.
That nurse—was it really Vivian?
And the "husband" they'd mocked? The clueless programmer?
Me.
I wanted to drive my fist through the wall.
No doubt now. This "Marco Valentino" was the same guy who'd used that metal rod on her in the massage room. The same guy from the stream.
He hadn't just violated my wife—he'd monetized it.
I was going to bury him.
My hands shook so badly I could barely type. "Fine. Send it."
The transfer went through. Marco tossed in a laugh with the file: "Bonus clip—unfinished, but all real. Like it? Catch me live next time."
I opened it, teeth grinding hard enough to draw blood.
The video cut mid-scene.
Vivian collapsed on the table, bleeding. Then—a panicked 911 call.
This time, her face was clear.
She lay there, letting him touch her, use her. Eyes rolling back, legs spread like an invitation to the world.
Disgusting.
I clenched my fists so tight my nails bit into my palms. I wanted to storm back upstairs and choke the truth out of her.
But I didn't.
Murder meant prison. And Marco? He'd covered his tracks too well.
Losing control would let them off easy. If I wanted revenge, I had to be smarter.
Right now, only one thought burned in my skull:
Divorce.
Then ruin them.
Or better yet—watch them burn.
End of My Wife's Livestream Scandal Chapter 7. Continue reading Chapter 8 or return to My Wife's Livestream Scandal book page.