Livestreaming My Husband's Downfall

On our wedding night, my husband Jack Hale got a call from his widowed sister-in-law, Bianca Vale, who whined about engorged breasts and demanded that he come over to "help massage them." I followed behind. The door hung open just enough for her voice to ooze through the c***k, sweet as syrup and dripping with lust. "Jack, hands off your cop wife tonight. You're mine." Jack scoffed, his voice thick with disdain. "Relax, marrying her was just a cover. That ice queen? I'd rather f**k a corpse." He even spat out an oath. "If I lay a finger on her, may I get hit by a truck and die childless." The second the words left his mouth, they melted into each other like liquid lust, and their lips smacked together obscenely. He never came back to our room. The bedframe next door banged against the wall all night, and her shameless moans never let up. I did not shed a single tear. I simply opened the surveillance feed, downloaded their little performance, and hit the button for a live stream. Within ten minutes, the hashtag #MrHaleFucksHisSisterInLawOnWeddingNight exploded to the top of the trending list. High definition screenshots and clips spread like wildfire. Bianca's university forums and official social media accounts were flooded with outrage. A: [Homewrecking skank! She's a disgrace to the profession!] B: [Teacher? More like predator! Fire her!] I ignored the calls from Jack's mother, Clara Wells, but her texts poured in like death threats. "You psychotic b***h! You've humiliated the Hale family!" "Post a retraction now. Say it's a deepfake. Write a public apology to Jack and Bianca, or I'll end you!" The second that last text dinged, the door slammed open. Jack stormed in like a bull seeing red, and he trembled with rage. "Fern Wilde, you've got a death wish!" he roared, his eyes bloodshot. "Bianca's a single mother. What's wrong with me helping my brother Lucas Hale's widow? How dare you ruin her!" I set my coffee down slowly, eyeing the claw marks raked across his chest, and I smiled. "Helping? Is that what you call f*****g her?" I crooked a finger and purred, "Patience, sweetheart. The full video is still uploading, every glorious detail. Want a preview?" "Shut your mouth!" He kicked the chair. The furniture screeched across the floor and toppled over with a crash. "Bianca and I were childhood sweethearts. Last night we just got carried away after drinking. She's a university professor. How is she supposed to show her face in public now? Are you hell bent on destroying us both?" I stood up, snapped the chair upright with a sharp clang, and locked eyes with his furious glare. I spat each word like poison. "A professor? That slut does not deserve to be called a professor. You two could not keep your hands off each other, a widow and her brother-in-law going at it like rabbits, and now you are blaming me for filming it? Where is that famous Hale family honor now?" Jack's face turned beet red. His hand flew up, trembling with the urge to slap me. "Go ahead," I taunted, raising my phone to record. My smile turned glacial. "Keep it coming. I have already got the next viral hashtag ready: #MrHaleBatteringWifeForMistress. Catchy, don't you think?" His arm froze mid swing. His knuckles cracked as he clenched his fists, and finally he hissed through gritted teeth, "You will pay for this!" The door slammed shut behind him with a thunderous crash. Within the hour, Clara stormed in with Bianca in tow. The old woman stabbed a bony finger in my face and shrieked, "If you could not keep your husband in your bed on your wedding night, that is on you as his wife. Fern, have you any idea what shame you are bringing to the Hale name?"