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หน้าหลัก / They Livestreamed My Humiliation, I Streamed Their Downfall / Chapter 2

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Chapter 2

ผู้เขียน: Cocojam
By 8 a.m., the scandal hit the underworld like stray bullets in a shootout. It was everywhere.

I sat in my studio, coldly watching the red data points spike on my main screen.

The original stream had been sliced into a hundred different clips, each one more humiliating than the last.

"The Don's Betrayal Confession" had 2.3 million views.

"Useless Donna Gets Roasted" was over 4.1 million.

The tag #SaddestMobWife was trending globally on the dark web.

My phone wouldn't stop buzzing. I couldn't even mute the notifications fast enough.

Screenshots of comment sections calling me "pathetic" and "deserved it."

Someone had turned my wedding photo into a meme: "When you think you married for power but you're just the warm-up act."

Every black-market gossip site was running the story.

Even legitimate news outlets were covering the "modern Mafia power play" in coded language.

Underworld Tonight even ran a special report.

On the screen, a panel of masked capos laughed their asses off, placing bets on when Marcello would finally kick me to the curb.

Then I heard heavy footsteps outside the door.

He's here.

I hit a hotkey, shutting down the kill lists and switching to an open social media app.

I dug my nails into my thigh. Hard. Tears instantly welled up.

I curled up in a corner of the studio, hugging my knees, perfectly arranging myself into "broken, useless Donna" mode.

The puffy, red eyes weren't entirely an act.

Bang! The studio door flew open.

Marcello strode in. He was still wearing the same foul-smelling Brioni pants from last night.

"Oh, baby." He walked over to me, his face a perfect mask of practiced sympathy. "I just saw. I'm so sorry this is happening to us."

Us.

Like he wasn't the star of the goddamn show.

"How did they get that video?" I whispered, my voice choked.

Marcello perched on the edge of my work table, his hand on my shoulder. "I've been trying to figure that out all morning. One of our rivals must have hacked the safe house security. You know how these scumbags are. There's no such thing as privacy anymore."

The lies rolled off his tongue so smoothly, I almost had to admire the performance.

He'd clearly spent the morning, probably with Chloe's help, crafting this bullshit story.

"But the things you said..." I trailed off, studying his face for any crack in the facade.

"Seraphina, look at me." His voice took on that Don's authority, the same tone I'd heard him use to order an execution. "That wasn't real. It was a political play. A stupid, regrettable one. Chloe's family needed a show of force, a sign of our alliance. The whole thing was an act, baby. For our territory."

A political play. The sheer audacity was breathtaking.

"You called me frigid," I said quietly. "You called me useless."

"Because that's the character I had to play!" His grip on my shoulder tightened, as if he was hurt by my misunderstanding.

"You know how these cartel families are. Everything has to be over the top. Dramatic. I was playing a role, Seraphina. A vile one that I hated, but it wasn't real."

I stared at him, letting him see the conflict in my eyes. The part of me that wanted to believe him fighting the part that knew better.

"Three hours, Marcello. You played that role for three hours."

"I know how bad it looks. I know this must have destroyed you. But you have to trust me. Our marriage is real. My... feelings for you are real. Everything else is just... business."

My phone buzzed again. I glanced at the screen.

It was a notification from Chloe's social media.

My blood ran cold.

She'd posted a picture of herself in Marcello's blood-stained leather jacket, hair a mess, with the caption: "When you're living your best life and some people just can't handle the jealousy 💅✨ #NoRegrets #LiveYourTruth #SorryNotSorry"

The hashtags were a direct assault.

#SaddestMobWife was front and center.

Followed by #Upgrade and #TheRealDonna.

Marcello followed my gaze. His jaw tightened. "She wasn't supposed to post anything else. I told her specifically—"

"You told her what?" The words came out sharper than I intended.

He caught himself, shifting back into concerned-husband mode.

"I told her to keep her goddamn mouth shut while we handle this. This is what I was afraid of—she's turning it into a circus."

I refreshed Chloe's page and watched the engagement explode.

Her follower count had jumped from 2.3 million to 4.7 million overnight. The comments were a mix of worship and hate.

And that level of engagement was exactly what her father's cartel needed to solidify their power.

Another post popped up: a video of her playing with Marcello's gold Desert Eagle. The gun my father gave him as a symbol of his duty to protect me.

The caption: "You need firepower in all aspects of life 😉 Thanks for the support, everyone! Big announcement coming soon! 💋"

The message was clear.

She was climbing the ladder on the back of my humiliation, and it was working.

"She's celebrating," I said, holding the screen up to his face.

His expression darkened, but I saw something else in his eyes.

Pride, maybe. Satisfaction.

"I'll handle Chloe. This attention has gone to her head."

"How? Are you going to rip her tongue out?"

"I'll make her understand this needs to die down. For both of our sakes." He took my phone, expertly scrolling through the comments. "Jesus. Look at these numbers. She gained over two million followers since last night."

The admiration in his voice was subtle, but it was there.

He wasn't angry about Chloe's posts.

He was impressed by the viral reach.

He was getting off on this raw display of power.

My dignity, my pain—it was just collateral damage. A sacrifice he made to gain clout with the mob.

The fanaticism flashed in his eyes before he pulled me into a rough hug.

"Shh, don't worry about it. You know you're the only one I love."

I didn't fight him.

I let myself lean against his chest, playing the part of the brainwashed, idiot wife.

The cheap, sweet smell of Chloe's perfume on his shirt was nauseating.

But behind my closed eyes, my mind was racing.

Total viewership was now over fifty million.

Chloe's bounty on the black market had shot up 340%.

Good. The higher they climb, the harder they fall.

Before I'd switched screens, the network my father left me had already locked onto every promoter, every distribution platform, and every single money-laundering stream the cartel used.

"It's okay, Seraphina," Marcello murmured, his hand stroking my hair with the arrogance of a man in control. "I promise. I've got everything under control."

"I know," I choked out, burying my face in his chest, my voice as soft as a lamb's. "You're all I have, Marcello."

Yes. You think everything is under control.

He had no idea the game was already in motion.

And he was the pathetic prey, already caught in the crosshairs, still thinking he was the hunter.
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  • They Livestreamed My Humiliation, I Streamed Their Downfall   Chapter 13

    "Tear that painting down. It disgusts me."I leaned back in the large leather chair, my voice devoid of all warmth.Two armed Cleaners stepped forward.Without hesitation, they ripped the painting of the suffering Madonna—a symbol of meekness and pity—from the wall.It had been Marcello's favorite.He used to say that my quiet submission was as perfect as the woman in the painting.The heavy frame slammed onto the marble floor.Glass shattered with a piercing crack.The wall slowly rotated.A massive crest was revealed in the morning light.The blood-red and black crown of the Capo dei capi—the boss of all bosses.My father's true family crest.It had been hidden in this room for eighteen long months.Today, it finally saw the light of day again.I stood up and straightened the lapels of my dark, custom-tailored suit.No flowing skirts. No frilly lace. No pathetic decorations designed to please a man.This was my armor.The door opened on time.Silas walked in, his boots crunching on t

  • They Livestreamed My Humiliation, I Streamed Their Downfall   Chapter 12

    "NO! Sera! Please don't put me in there!"The 3 a.m. wind whipped off the East River, cutting like a knife across the abandoned Brooklyn pier.Marcello, like a dog with a broken spine, clawed at the rough concrete floor.His fingernails bent back and split, leaving ten bloody streaks in his wake.Two massive Cleaners grabbed him like a sack of garbage and dragged him to a large, classic Mafia-style oil drum.It was already half-full of wet cement.The sharp, chemical smell mixed with the cold stench of the river water made Marcello piss himself.A dark, foul-smelling stain spread down his expensive trousers.Four high-definition cameras were already in position, their lenses aimed coldly at him.The setup was far more professional than the one he'd used in our bedroom.I stood in the shadows, just outside the glare of the floodlights, and watched him break."Silas. Begin," I said calmly.Silas, at the control console, hit a key.The dark web link with the skull icon was reactivated.Th

  • They Livestreamed My Humiliation, I Streamed Their Downfall   Chapter 11

    The family estate's deepest, darkest private cell.The cold air was thick with the smell of blood and sewage.The clanking of heavy chains echoed with a desperate, animal-like struggle."Let me go! I'm your Boss! Sera! Let me see you!"Marcello's raw-throated screams bounced off the empty hallways.I walked down the blood-stained steps, the heels of my custom shoes clicking on the concrete.Silas opened the rusted iron door for me.The single, swinging bulb in the cell was blinding.Marcello was chained to the damp wall.The once-untouchable Don. The man who had laughed at me for the whole world to see.The man who had fucked his mistress on our marriage bed.Now he was in rags, covered in his own filth and dried blood.His mind was completely broken.He looked up at the sound of the door.When he saw me, a wild joy erupted in his bloodshot eyes."Sera! My wife! You finally came!"He lunged forward, the chains digging into the wall, his wrists raw and bloody.He still dared to call me

  • They Livestreamed My Humiliation, I Streamed Their Downfall   Chapter 10

    "Donna, I was wrong! It was just a misunderstanding!"Thomas's scream tore through the dead silence of the ballroom.This was the same casino magnate who had put his hands on me at the last gala. The same man who'd made a slimy pass at me.Now, he was on his knees at the edge of the red carpet, slamming his head against the floor like a dog.His forehead was split open, blood smearing the marble.Silas stood beside him, expressionless, holding a blood-drenched antique Sicilian stiletto.The same hand Thomas had put on my waist was now wrapped in a bloody bandage.Silas had just taken two of his fingers as an "appetizer."The severed digits had been kicked into a corner like trash."Shh," I said, seated on the high-backed chair in the center of the room, gently swirling the red wine in my glass. "You're being too loud, Thomas."Silas's wrist flickered. The hilt of the dagger slammed into Thomas's mouth.The scream stopped, replaced by a muffled whimper as several teeth clattered to the

  • They Livestreamed My Humiliation, I Streamed Their Downfall   Chapter 9

    The sound of choked sobbing filled the air."I never knew it would go this far. You have to believe me. I'm a victim, too."On the massive screen in my studio, Chloe's once-perfect face was swollen and puffy.She was hiding in a cheap, mildew-scented motel room near the Mexican border.The walls were peeling. The light was dim.The once-powerful cartel princess was now covered in filth.Her perfect blonde hair was matted and greasy.After escaping the casino, she probably wished she'd died in there.In one day, her father's cartel, its funds completely cut off, had been devoured by rivals.Her family was gone.Her bank account was emptier than her head.The cops and the mob were both hunting her.But the idiot was still dreaming of a comeback.She was live-streaming from a shattered burner phone."Marcello lied to me!" Chloe wailed at the camera, cheap mascara running down her face. "He told me he and his wife were over! He said she was a crazy bitch! I was just a girl, blinded by love

  • They Livestreamed My Humiliation, I Streamed Their Downfall   Chapter 8

    BAM! Marcello's fist slammed down on the long table, knocking over a glass of whiskey."Who betrayed me? Somebody talk!" his roar echoed through the safe house's panic room.Eight of his remaining Capos sat around the table, staring at each other.The air was thick with suspicion."Boss, they were too fast," a bald Capo who ran the Queens operation said, his voice trembling around his cigar. "Three main docks, hundreds of millions in cash. Gone. In one night. This wasn't an outside job. It has to be a rat.""Then find me the rat!" Marcello's eyes were wild, like a cornered dog's. "I want him skinned alive! I want his bones broken, one by one, and stuffed in a drum in the East River!"He paced back and forth, his chest heaving."When I find who's behind this, I will make them beg for death," he seethed.Just then, a loud, dull thud came from outside.The sound of a heavy boot kicking in a lock.Followed by a loud CRASH!The door was kicked open, slamming against the wall.The eight Capo

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