His s*x Tape Exposed, I Leave Him

One week before her wedding, Rose Leonardo received an anonymous email. The second she clicked the link, the graphic assault of the images stole her breath clean out of her lungs. The link led to a shady site called "Animal World," stuffed to the brim with explicit videos of men and women hooking up. Every performer wore an animal mask over their face, and against a pitch-black backdrop, pale bodies twisted and tangled together. The explicit content was so over-the-top it made her jaw drop. She slammed the browser shut in a panic, but the after image burned into her retinas froze her solid from head to toe. In the pinned trending video right at the top of the page, the man in the rabbit mask matched her fiancé Chris perfectly, from the shape of his jaw, to the lines of his build, even the low, rough gasps that rumbled out of him. Dead silence suddenly hung over the conference room. The investor's face had gone dark as thunder. "Ms. Leonardo, are you alright?" Rose forced herself to steady her breathing, tugged up a wobbly, strained smile, and pushed through with her work report. But the churning unease and doubt coiled in her chest only grew thicker and more suffocating with every passing second. The second the meeting adjourned, she filed for leave and rushed straight home. Clicking the link open again, she pinned her gaze to the active live stream, her fingers trembling so hard she could barely punch in Chris's number. And right there in the "Animal World" stream, the familiar ringtone blared out of nowhere. The man in the rabbit mask glanced at the screen once, then tossed the phone aside without a second thought. He pressed into the woman in the fox mask straddling him harder than ever, their heavy gasps and groans growing louder and thicker. The live chat blew up instantly. The live broadcast dragged on for a full four hours before it finally cut out. Rose sat frozen in front of her computer, her whole body ice-cold, too numb even to summon the strength to stand up. But when the camera panned across the man's lower abdomen, she blew out a huge breath she didn't even realize she'd been holding. There was no scar there. That wasn't Chris. She could never, ever mistake the scar on Chris' body, not in a million years. A moment later, the click of a key turning in the front door lock echoed from the entryway, and Chris pushed the door open and stepped inside. His features were soft and gentle, his tailored suit pressed perfectly clean, not a single wrinkle in sight. He looked so warm, so proper, nothing at all like the wild, depraved man in the video. Chris stepped closer, his eyes soft as he took in her pale face, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Sorry, Rose, work was crazy today. I didn't check my phone once. You need me for something?" Rose slammed her laptop shut in a flurry, her heart skipping a guilty beat. "It's nothing, I just wanted to ask what time you'd be home." She kept repeating it to herself over and over that couldn't be Chris. Chris loved her more than anything, he would never betray her. Years ago, when she'd been diagnosed with kidney failure and teetered on the edge of death, Chris hadn't hesitated for a second. He'd hidden it from his own family and volunteered to get tested for a match. The first words he spoke when he woke up from the kidney donation surgery, weak but dead serious, were, "Rose, as long as you get to live, I'll do anything for you." That scar on his lower abdomen had been left from that operation, it was irrefutable proof of how deeply he loved her. What's more, Chris had always struggled with severe obsessive cleanliness, by nature aloof and strictly abstinent. When his last female assistant accidentally bumped into him and brushed his arm, he fired her on the spot and blacklisted her across the entire industry. After the incident, he scrubbed his arm over and over with disinfectant, scrubbing nonstop for a full hour. Even when she occasionally clung to him for cuddles and sweet petting in their daily life, he would gently push her away with a helpless, soft smile and say, "Rose, don't be so clingy, okay?" He loathed being touched by any woman who wasn't her. How could a man this pure and devoted to her ever fool around wildly with a complete stranger? "Rose, what are you thinking about over there?" Chris carried over a warm glass of milk. He had changed into a loose silk lounge wear set that accentuated his sharp, lean, handsome frame perfectly. But the scenes Rose had seen that afternoon played on loop in her head, and the dark, heavy fog of doubt came churning back into her chest. The mattress beside her dipped slightly as Chris wrapped his arms gently around her waist from behind, his voice soft and warm. "Go to sleep, you've got that big important meeting tomorrow." Rose turned, her fingers drifting unconsciously to his lower abdomen. The familiar, rough texture of his old scar came clear under her touch, and the weight that had hung heavy on her chest all day finally dropped away completely. Chris furrowed his brow slightly, a false, playful, wounded note in his voice, "Why do you keep touching my scar? Do you think it's ugly?" "No." Rose tightened her arms and pulled him closer, her voice rough with emotion. "Chris, I love you." He froze for a second, then hugged her back just as tight, his eyes holding nothing but pure, tender warmth. "I love you too, Rose. Only you. Only seven more days until I'm your husband. Just rest these next few days, okay? Relax and wait for our wedding." Rose nodded softly and closed her eyes. She was just too anxious, overthinking everything. The man in the video just looked like Chris, that was all. But in the dead of night, she jolted awake suddenly. The spot beside her was completely empty, long gone cold. Chris' slippers still sat by the front door, but it was obvious he'd slipped out in the middle of the night. Rose's heart hammered against her ribs, a crippling wave of dread washed over her whole body. Almost against her will, she reached for her computer and opened it again. Amazingly, the rabbit-masked man's stream was still live. There he was again, the man in the rabbit mask, tangling wildly in heated, reckless passion with the woman in the fox mask. Even hidden behind the mask, the blazing, hungry thrill in his eyes couldn't be masked, it was nothing like the aloof, abstinent Chris she knew in daily life. One raw, intimate position after another played out across the screen, until both of them were utterly drained, and the frantic movement finally slowed to a stop. Rose glued her gaze to the man's lower abdomen, and her pupils snapped tight in an instant. Under the stream's lights, that familiar scar sat stark and unmistakable, plain as day for the camera to see! All audio on the stream ran through a voice changer. The fox-masked woman's tone was cool, laced with faint irritation. "I hate this scar on you. It's a mark you left for another woman, and you still refuse to get rid of it." The man in the rabbit mask chuckled softly, leaned down to press a kiss to the woman's lips, his voice lazy and indulgent. "Didn't have time to cover it with concealer tonight. Don't be angry. I'll give you that villa in the Western Suburbs. Isn't that enough to cheer you up?" "It's not enough," the fox-masked woman huffed, greedy and stubborn, "not unless you promise me, we'll have another tryst right there at your wedding in seven days. I'm your maid of honor, for crying out loud. No one will spot us, no one will ever suspect a thing." The man in the rabbit mask went quiet for a long moment, and didn't answer her right away. The fox-masked woman let out two cold snorts and pretended to pull away to leave, but he shot a hand out, grabbed her hard, and dragged her right back into his tight embrace. "Okay. I'll do anything you want."