Livestreaming My cheating Hockey star fiancé

I stormed toward the exit, cheeks burning. Logan was waiting by the car when I got there, scrolling through his phone with a satisfied grin. “Hey, babe. Everything good?” I forced a smile, sliding into the passenger seat as he held the door. “Yeah. Just… ran into Chase Ryder.” Logan’s expression darkened instantly. “That prick. What’d he say?” I hesitated, then repeated the words. Logan’s jaw clenched, knuckles white on the steering wheel as he pulled out. “Typical Chase. Always has to poke the bear. Don’t let him get to you.” He reached over and rested his hand on my thigh, squeezing. “We’re the golden couple, right? He’s just jealous.” I nodded, leaning my head back against the seat. “Right.” But as the city lights blurred past the window, I couldn’t stop replaying that smirk, those gray eyes, the way his voice had wrapped around my name like a challenge. Logan’s hand felt warm and safe on my leg, but my skin still tingled where Chase had touched me. I pushed the tho

AllieI hadn’t left the bed in two days. Mia’s guest room felt like a cave. The curtains drawn tight, blankets pulled over my head, the world reduced to the soft glow of my phone screen and the ache in my chest that wouldn’t go away. Every time I tried to get up, the memories slammed back: the cake hitting the floor, Logan’s panicked face, that woman’s legs around him. The livestream. The comments. The entire internet watching my life shatter in real time.Food tasted like nothing. Sleep came in fitful bursts filled with nightmares. I just wanted to disappear.A sharp knock on the door made me flinch. “Allie? It’s me.” Mia’s voice, urgent. The door creaked open before I could answer. She flipped on the lamp, the sudden light stabbing my swollen eyes.“You need to get up,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her face was serious, phone already in hand. “Right now. Open Instagram.”I pulled the covers higher. “I don’t want to see it. More hate? More clips? I can’t.”“Allie.” She

Allie I was still buried under the blankets in Mia’s guest room, staring at the ceiling like it held answers. Anger simmered in my chest, hot and constant. Logan. That selfish, lying bastard. Two days after his livestream, the damage kept spreading. My inbox was full of accusations, brands ghosting me, and strangers calling me a controlling abuser. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him in that bed, heard his voice twisting our entire relationship into something ugly. How dare he? After everything I gave him? My phone started buzzing on the nightstand. Notifications lighting up like fireworks. I groaned, pulling the pillow over my face. Not again. Was Logan doing another livestream? More lies? More ways to paint me as the villain while he played the wounded hero? With a heavy heart, I grabbed the phone and opened I*******m. The app loaded, and my feed flooded with tags, reposts, and trending audio. But it wasn’t Logan this time. It was Chase Ryder. His story was pinned at the top,

AllieMy hands wouldn’t stop shaking as I stared at the proof Chase had sent. Screenshots. Messages. Timestamps from road trips and hotel stays stretching back over a year. Logan with other women. Bragging about it. Laughing about “what Allie doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” Each new image felt like another knife twisting in my chest. The betrayal ran so much deeper than that birthday disaster. I’d been living in a fantasy while he played me for a fool the entire time.I cried until my eyes burned dry. Then anger took over. Pure, shaking rage. When Chase’s follow-up DM came asking if I wanted to meet for coffee—“somewhere public, no pressure”—I almost said no. But the silence in Mia’s apartment was suffocating, and part of me needed answers. Or at least to look the man who’d dropped this bomb in the eyes.We agreed on a quiet café downtown, tucked away from the usual hockey crowd. I arrived early, nerves twisting in my stomach. I expected arrogance—the same smirk from the hallway, the co

AllieThe morning light filtered through Mia’s curtains as I scrolled through TikTok, coffee growing cold beside me. I’d told myself I wouldn’t look. That I’d take a break from the internet’s endless noise after the café meeting with Chase. But the algorithm had other plans. Video after video popped up, women coming forward with their stories about Logan.One girl, a pretty brunette with nervous eyes, stared into her camera. “I didn’t want to say anything at first, but after seeing what happened to Allie… Logan DMed me last season after a game in Chicago. Paid for my drinks all night, acted like we were just talking. Then he invited me back to his hotel. Said his girlfriend didn’t understand his stress.”Another video. A blonde in a club dress. “He told me he was single. Bought me a necklace the next day. Ghosted when I asked about the couple photos online. Dozens of us, I bet.”Dozens.My stomach twisted as comment sections filled with similar stories. Hotel keys. Late-night texts. P