My Wife's Livestream Scandal - Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Vivian Lowell took a delicate sip of her chicken soup and flashed me a sweet, practiced smile. "Honey, you should head home. You've got work tomorrow—no need to wear yourself out here."
So eager to get rid of me. Planning a little rendezvous with Marco Valentino, are we?
I kept my face neutral, shaking my head. "Don't worry about me. There's a bed right here—I'll stay and keep you company."
No matter how much she insisted, I played the devoted husband, pretending my stubbornness was all about her well-being.
Her smile tightened. Her fingers twitched against the spoon. She was pissed, but what could she do?
Good. Let her squirm.
I wasn't about to let this scheming bitch have her way.
Late that night, once her breathing evened out in sleep, I slipped out of bed and grabbed her phone. A quick tilt toward her face, and the screen unlocked.
Predictable.
She'd wiped her chat history clean—but she'd forgotten who she was dealing with. I'd already backed up every incriminating message, photo, and video to my cloud.
With practiced ease, I installed the monitoring software I'd prepped, then embedded a Trojan in a document she'd never think to check.
Mission complete, I slid back into bed, feigning sleep.
Now the real fun begins.
The next morning, Vivian was practically shoving me out the door. "My parents are visiting today," she lied smoothly. "You should rest at home."
I nearly laughed in her face.
"Rest"?
More like clearing the stage for her and Marco.
Disgusting.
Back home, I pulled up the feed from her phone.
No parents in sight.
Right on cue, Vivian called him—Marco Valentino, the bastard with the pretentious WeChat handle.
He slinked into her hospital room like he owned the place, sliding onto the bed beside her. "Your clueless husband still hasn't caught on?"
Vivian smirked. "Please. He's too buried in work to notice anything."
Marco chuckled, hands already wandering. "Good. Then let's pick up where we left off, baby. I've been dying to—"
Oh, I'll give you dying.
Just as Marco's greedy fingers started fumbling with her gown, I triggered the horror movie soundtrack I'd queued up—a ghostly, blood-curdling wail.
"Wooooo… give me back my life…"
The hospital room plunged into eerie silence, then—
"HOLY SHIT!"
Marco practically levitated off the bed, scrambling underneath like a roach caught in the light. Vivian yelped, clutching the sheets.
The sound cut off abruptly.
Marco peeked out, wild-eyed. "What the hell was that?!"
Vivian's voice shook. "I—I don't know—"
"Nope. Nope. I'm out." Marco crawled free, backing toward the door like the room was haunted. "We'll finish this when you're discharged. This place is cursed."
Vivian reached for him. "Don't leave me here alone!"
"Hell no!" He shuddered. "And don't let your husband touch you, got it?"
She rolled her eyes. "That loser? Please. He's just a paycheck. Once I get my promotion, I'm taking half his assets and dumping him."
Marco grinned, pressing a sloppy kiss to her cheek. "That's my girl. Later!"
And just like that, he bolted.
Pathetic.
But neither of them knew—this was just the opening act.
I had something much bigger in store.