Chapter 1 The Stream That Broke the Marriage

# Chapter 1 – The Stream That Broke the Marriage

I never thought my life would unravel in front of thousands of viewers.

The soft glow of my ring light illuminated my face as I chatted with my followers during my Thursday night livestream. My channel, "Lillian's Living Room," had grown steadily over the past year to nearly half a million subscribers. That night, I was reviewing luxury skincare products—nothing extraordinary, just my usual content.

"This serum is absolutely divine," I said, applying a drop to the back of my hand. "The texture is like silk, and it absorbs instantly. Definitely worth the splurge if you're looking to—"

My sentence hung in the air as a notification pinged. Comments suddenly flooded the chat faster than I could track them.

*OMG behind you!!*

*Look at the door!!*

*YOUR HUSBAND???*

I turned instinctively toward our bedroom door, which I thought I'd closed before starting the stream. It was ajar now, offering a partial view of our living room. The camera angle captured just enough—Daniel, my husband of three years, with his hands tangled in Vivian's hair, kissing her with an intensity he hadn't shown me in months.

Vivian. My college roommate. My maid of honor. My supposed best friend.

My blood ran cold, but somehow, I maintained my composure. Years of media training for my channel kicked in. Without missing a beat, I swiveled back to face the camera.

"Well," I said, my voice surprisingly steady, "it seems we've got an unexpected segment tonight."

I should have ended the stream immediately. Any reasonable person would have. But something dark and vindictive unfurled inside me—a need for witnesses, for this betrayal to be documented. So I continued for another thirty seconds, explaining that I needed to address a "situation" and would return to social media when I could.

Only after ending the broadcast did I allow myself to feel. The trembling started in my hands, then spread through my entire body like a seismic wave.

I walked to the living room, where Daniel and Vivian had sprung apart. Vivian was frantically buttoning her blouse, her lipstick smeared across her chin. Daniel stood with his back to the window, his face a mixture of shock and anger.

"Lillian—" Vivian started, her voice quavering.

I raised my hand to silence her. "Get out."

She grabbed her purse and practically ran for the door, not even stopping for her shoes.

When the door closed, Daniel's expression morphed from shock to fury. "What the hell was that?" he demanded, as if I were the one who had done something wrong.

"That," I replied coldly, "was the end of our marriage playing out live for my followers."

"You filmed us? You deliberately left that door open, didn't you?" He paced the room like a caged animal. "You've just destroyed my reputation! My mother watches your stupid channel! My colleagues watch it!"

I laughed, a hollow sound that surprised even me. "Your reputation? You were kissing my best friend on our couch, Daniel. You destroyed your own reputation."

"Turn it off," he growled, snatching my phone from the coffee table. "Delete the video. Call those gossip vultures and tell them it was a prank or something."

"It's too late," I said, feeling strangely calm. "It's already trending. #LilliansCheatingHusband is probably climbing the charts as we speak."

His face paled as he checked his own phone, thumbing through notifications that were undoubtedly pouring in. The Rhodes family name carried weight in Boston's business circles. His mother, Cynthia, controlled one of the largest private media conglomerates on the East Coast. This scandal would be front-page news by morning.

"You set me up," he said, his voice dangerously low. "You planned this."

"Did I force you to kiss her? Did I put your tongue down her throat?"

He slammed his fist against the wall. "This was your angle all along, wasn't it? Marry into money, build your pathetic little internet fame, then publicly humiliate me for what? More followers? A divorce settlement?"

His words stung more than I wanted to admit. We'd met at a charity gala four years ago. I was working as a PR assistant for the event, and he was there representing the Rhodes Foundation. Despite our different backgrounds, we'd connected instantly. At least, I thought we had.

"You betrayed me," I said, my voice finally cracking. "Not the other way around. It's not my fault you chose to embarrass yourself."

Daniel's expression shifted suddenly, a calculating look crossing his face. He pulled out his phone, scrolled for a moment, then tossed it onto the coffee table between us.

"You want to talk about betrayal?" he asked. "Take a look."

On the screen was a banking app showing a transfer of three million dollars to an account with my name. Below it was a grainy image from what appeared to be security footage—me, sitting across from his mother in her office, accepting an envelope.

"You think you're the only one who can play games?" Daniel's voice was ice. "Three million as a bet—you took it. So tell me, Lillian, who's betraying whom?"

My stomach dropped. He wasn't supposed to know about that. Not yet.

"That's different," I whispered.

"Is it? You've been working with my mother behind my back. Testing me? Setting me up to fail?" His laugh was bitter. "And you have the audacity to act wounded?"

I stared at the evidence before me, mind racing. The game had changed—I'd underestimated Daniel. Or perhaps I'd underestimated Cynthia. Either way, I was now playing defense when I should have been delivering the killing blow.

"This changes nothing," I finally said. "You still cheated. With my best friend."

"Ex-best friend, I would imagine." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Pack your things. I want you out by morning."

"This is my apartment too."

"Is it? Check your precious marriage contract. The penthouse belongs to Rhodes Enterprises. You're just a guest who's overstayed her welcome."

As he walked toward the bedroom, I called after him, "This isn't over, Daniel."

He paused at the doorway where he'd been caught just an hour before. "You're right about that. It's just beginning."

After he disappeared into the bedroom, I sank onto the couch—the same couch where my husband and best friend had betrayed me. My phone buzzed incessantly with notifications, messages from concerned followers, interview requests from media outlets, and texts from acquaintances suddenly interested in my welfare.

But one message caught my eye—from an unknown number:

*Perfect execution. The board meeting is tomorrow. Ready for phase two?*

I took a deep breath and typed back: *Ready.*

Whatever Daniel thought he knew, he'd only scratched the surface. The three million was just the opening move in a much larger game. And despite tonight's complication, I was still several steps ahead.

Because Daniel was right about one thing: this was just the beginning.