บททั้งหมดของ They Livestreamed My Humiliation, I Streamed Their Downfall: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

My father always said, "There's no love in the Mafia." I believed our marriage would prove him wrong.Turns out, I was wrong....[You should see who your man's fucking on the livestream.]It was late. I was going over the quarterly numbers for my three money-laundering casinos when the anonymous message popped up.I stared at the words. My fingers froze in mid-air.In the eighteen months I'd been married to Marcello, I’d ignored dozens of messages like this.Some from "allies" pretending to care. Some from the jealous daughters of drug lords. Others from low-level guys who just wanted to see a train wreck.I knew they were all waiting. Dying to tear down my "perfect Donna" facade.I threw them all in the trash.Because I was running a test.I wanted to see, if this man I'd chosen didn't know I controlled a vast, dark empire, would he stay loyal?I had to know. Was my father's rule—"There's no love in the Mafia"—truly unbreakable?But this message was different.It was too direct. Too

Tuesday, 2:47 p.m. An email came through.It was from Marcello's second-in-command. Marked "URGENT.""Donna, the boss needs you to deliver a set of arms clearance documents to the executive suite at the casino. 32nd floor, VIP room A."I stared at the message, my hand tightening around my phone.Marcello had been cold lately. He wouldn't look at me at breakfast. He'd leave the room to take calls.For a second, I wondered if this was an olive branch.Was he trying to bring me back into the business?The elevator ride to the 32nd floor felt like an eternity.I clutched the bulletproof briefcase. Inside were the shell-corporation papers I myself had forged to launder the deal.The irony was staggering.I was being sent on a delivery-girl errand, carrying documents for a smuggling operation that I secretly controlled.The hallway was dead quiet.Room A was at the far end, its armored door slightly ajar.As I got closer, I heard voices.Marcello's distinct, low growl, followed by a woman's

This discreet underground bar on Fifth Avenue had always been our spot.Neutral ground. The place where we'd made million-dollar assassination deals over whiskey.Today, I sat across from Silas.He was my father's deadliest consigliere, the man who acted as the public face for the vast laundering network and offshore assets that I secretly controlled.I watched him flip through what looked like divorce papers, speaking in the coded language we'd perfected over years of backroom deals."The timeline for the restructuring is aggressive," Silas said, his voice holding the professional distance of a true cleaner. "Are you certain you want a full liquidation of assets?""This union is no longer viable," I replied, playing my part perfectly. "I need to understand my options for... a fresh start."To any observer, we were discussing my impending divorce.In reality, Silas was giving me the final briefing on the annihilation of Marcello's family."Your husband's recent actions suggest he's not

It only took four hours.A bloody storm tore through the North American underworld.I sat in my studio, watching the red alerts flash across my screen as I sipped my black coffee.Silas's team of Cleaners moved like killing machines.They gave no one a chance to beg.Marcello's three key smuggling ports in Brooklyn were wiped out in under thirty minutes.Piles of contraband weapons were seized and torched.The arrogant dock bosses and crew leaders had their throats slit before they could even draw their guns.Meanwhile, in the digital world, my battlefield was bloodless, but far more lethal.My fingers flew across the keyboard.A few heavy keystrokes.Marcello's entire money-laundering network was drained dry.Tens of millions in black money were forcibly transferred, broken apart, and vanished into a thousand untraceable offshore accounts.In the darkness before dawn, Marcello's empire crumbled.He had nothing left.Suddenly, the screech of tires echoed from outside.The front gate wa

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