I was hiding in the car, clutching a bottle of champagne, ready to surprise my girlfriend on her birthday. She was getting closer. Then I heard two voices, not one. A man’s, low and unfamiliar. A wave of confusion washed over me. I watched, frozen, as he pressed her against the tinted window of my own Ford Explorer, her gasps fogging the glass from the outside. There’s a song lyric about being under the car instead of in it. Right then, I understood. I saw exactly how wild things could get. The worst part? I was about to propose. And to make sure everyone could share the moment, I had set up a private livestream. Right now, both our families, all our friends, were watching this. Online. 1 Chloe’s eyes met mine through the dark tint, but she couldn’t see me. “Let’s get in the car,” she whispered, her voice breathy. A spike of pure panic shot through me. The livestream was running through the dashcam. If they got in, the camera would catch everything, and whatever shred of dignity I had left would be incinerated. My fingers fumbled as I dialed her number. Her phone lit up in her hand. She saw it was me, answered, and immediately rushed out, “Hey, I’m in a meeting, can’t talk.” Before I could say a word, she hung up. I watched her power the phone off completely. A moment later, the passenger door opened. They fell inside, a tangle of limbs and hungry mouths. He pushed her back against the seat, their kisses wet and desperate. It was over. The camera was recording it all. I was curled up in the trunk space of my own SUV, paralyzed. Today was her birthday. The plan was simple, something you see go viral online. She’d walk up to the car, I’d pop the trunk from the inside, and she’d find it filled with roses and gifts. I’d be there on one knee, nestled among the flowers, holding out a diamond ring. It was supposed to be romantic. The camera was angled perfectly to capture the joyous surprise on her face. Our friends and family were all waiting at my apartment. The plan was that as soon as I proposed, I’d walk in the door with my new fiancée, and they’d set off confetti cannons. Now, it was just awkward. Excruciatingly awkward. The livestream was broadcasting the sight of her clothes being peeled away, piece by piece, by this stranger. The man, this affair, chuckled. “Why didn’t you take your boyfriend’s call? Scared he’ll find out?” Chloe kissed him, her voice thick with excitement. “Not at all. If you want to play that game, I can call him right now.” He laughed, a smug, ugly sound, and pushed her down onto the backseat. “You’re a wild one, aren’t you?” “If we’re going to chase a thrill,” she murmured, “we might as well go all the way.” They were fully on the backseats now, oblivious to me in the trunk. I shakily pulled out my own phone, my hands trembling. The screen showed me a mirror of the livestream: the two of them, tangled together in my car, broadcast to a private room with a password. The viewer count was over a hundred. I don’t have that many friends. I knew, with a sickening certainty, that our guests had started sharing the password. The gossip was spreading like a wildfire. Over a hundred people, and not a single comment. The silence was deafening. I could picture them all, sitting in my living room, surrounded by cake and confetti cannons, just staring in horrified, awkward silence at their phones. Then, the worst thing yet. I saw one account spamming the stream with digital gifts. It was Chloe’s mother. My future mother-in-law. She kept sending them, one after another, because each time a gift was sent, a gaudy animation would flash across the screen, momentarily obscuring the awful view. She was old-school with technology; she didn’t know there was a button to hide all the effects. The poor woman was burning through her retirement savings, trying to shield her daughter’s shame, and all for nothing. I couldn’t stop it. The streaming software was running on the car’s infotainment system. I’d have to get into the front seat to shut it off. Just then, the man finally noticed something was off. “Wait a second,” he said, pausing. “Why is the car on?” Chloe laughed it off. “My boyfriend’s car has a remote start for the AC. I turned it on for you before I came down. Didn’t want you to get too hot.” He sounded impressed. “My Porsche doesn’t even have that, and it cost over a hundred grand. This thing is what, thirty?” She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his face close for another deep kiss. “Exactly. And here you are, in his thirty-thousand-dollar Ford, sleeping with his girlfriend.” Her words seemed to ignite him. He started pulling at her shirt again, whispering against her ear, “God, you’re something else. He lets you drive his car while he takes the subway to work every day, and you talk to me like that.” “That’s right,” she purred. “I’m a bad girl. Say it again, it just turns me on more. He’s my simp, but I’m yours.” Then, something truly bizarre happened. As he kissed her collarbone, he started to sing. It was an old, cheesy rock ballad. “I'm forever yours… faithfully.” Chloe giggled, kissing him back. “That’s right, baby. That’s us.” I couldn’t understand it. Who sings during something like this? Maybe it was their own private joke. Or maybe guys who drive Porsches just have that effect on women. But it was profoundly, deeply cringey, especially knowing it was being broadcast live. I knew I had to do something. It was my account. If this went any further, if something truly explicit was shown, I could be the one facing legal trouble. I cleared my throat. A small, pathetic cough. In an instant, the two of them shot upright, their romantic bubble popped. When Chloe saw me, her face went white. “You’re supposed to be at work,” she stammered. “It’s your birthday,” I said, my voice flat. “I took the day off. I wanted to surprise you.” How pathetic. I’d taken time off, planned everything, just for this. The strangest part was, I didn’t feel rage. Not a single spark of anger. A cynical thought had always lived in the back of my mind: until you’re married, you’re just sleeping with someone else’s future wife. Well, the proposal was off. In my eyes, she was already his. I glanced at my phone again. The viewer count was now over a thousand. In a password-protected room. What did that mean? It meant the link had been shared with our entire university alumni group, our respective company Slack channels, and every distant cousin and great-aunt on both sides of the family. A total, multi-platform social collapse. As if on cue, a group of people emerged from the elevator into the parking garage. I recognized them. Chloe’s coworkers. They weren’t heading to their cars. They were clustered together, phones in hand, staring right at us. They had come down for a front-row seat. Chloe, now in a full-blown panic, saw them too. She hissed at me, “Don’t you dare start a fight with me now. My colleagues are right there. Don’t you embarrass me.” I stared at her, dumbfounded. “You’re worried about being embarrassed?” “Look, you caught me. There’s no point in pretending,” she said, her tone shifting from panic to ice. “Let’s just break up. I think I deserve better.” “What did I ever do to you?” I asked, the words feeling hollow. She ignored me, climbing into the driver’s seat and starting the car. As she pulled out, her voice was cold. “You were good to me, I won’t deny that. But I deserve better. A woman who’s ridden in a Porsche doesn’t go back to a Ford.” The man, Ryan, was awkwardly pulling his clothes back on. It was only then that I noticed something crucial. A wedding ring on his left hand. I pointed at it. “Is that what you call ‘better’?” Chloe’s voice was like steel. “Would you still be saying that if you knew he gives me two thousand dollars a month? In cash?” I sucked in a breath. Online, two grand a month might not sound like a fortune. But in our world, it was huge. My entire monthly take-home pay was barely over four thousand. Even my thirty-grand SUV was financed. Ryan finished dressing and shot me a look. “Look, man, I get it. Name your price. I’ll pay you to keep this quiet and make this a clean break.” I just stared at him. “You want to buy my silence?” “It’s not about buying it,” he said, his voice hardening. “It’s about you being required to give it.” Chloe pulled up next to a Porsche parked in a reserved spot near the building’s entrance. A sign on the space read: VP Parking Only. Of course. She turned to me. “I’m warning you, Leo. Don’t even think about getting revenge by telling everyone. He’s a Vice President from corporate. You can’t afford to mess with people like him.” I was stunned. Not because I was scared of some VP. I was stunned because Chloe’s own coworkers were witnesses. With the livestream viewership exploding, there was no way this story wasn’t already scorching its way through their entire company, from the local branch to corporate headquarters. This guy wasn’t just going to lose his promotion; he was going to lose his job. And I’d bet anything his wife was already in that chat room. There’s no way, with that many employees watching, that someone didn’t have her number. Right on cue, Ryan’s phone rang. I saw the screen. The caller ID said: Wife. He instantly declined the call and sent a canned text: In a meeting. Will call you back. The phone immediately rang again. This time, the caller ID read: Chairman. Ryan clearly didn’t dare decline that call. He hesitated, his face a mask of indecision. Chloe said nervously, “It’s the chairman. You should probably answer. It could be important.” Ryan’s eyes darted to me, then back to the phone. Finally, he snarled, “I can’t risk it. I can’t risk what this idiot might say.” He declined the chairman’s call and sent the same text message. They were both in the livestream. His wife and his boss. Ryan powered his phone off. “I’ll call them back later. I’ll just say my battery died.” “Good idea,” Chloe nodded. I sighed. He shouldn’t have turned it off. If he’d left it on, someone might have sent him a text, a warning. But watching Chloe care so much about protecting him, a strange numbness settled over me. She got out of my car and walked to the back. When I popped the trunk, my meticulously arranged surprise of balloons and flowers was revealed. How pathetic. The camera was supposed to capture her ecstatic face. Now, her expression was just cold. Fitting, I suppose. We were past all that now. “Look, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice flat. “Take the flowers and the gifts back. Let’s just be clear. Name a price. How much for your silence?” “Is that really what you think of me?” I asked, my voice cracking. “You think I’d blackmail you over this?” “I just need to be sure. He signed a prenup. I can’t be the reason he loses everything.” I glanced at Ryan. His wife was probably already on her way to a lawyer’s office. “I took care of you for years,” I said. “When you’re bending over backward to protect him, have you thought about me at all?” “You caught me cheating,” she snapped, her patience gone. “Do I really need to consider your feelings now? Get real, Leo.” I took a deep breath. She was right. There was no need to consider each other’s feelings anymore. I wasn’t going to take their money. The moment they sent it, it would be extortion, and I’d be the one in jail. I’ve lived a clean life, and I wasn’t about to start breaking the law now. Besides, what good would my silence do? Everyone already knew. “I don’t want your money,” I said. “And I won’t say anything. Let’s just break up. I’ll return the ring.” She looked surprised. “I didn’t think you’d be this cooperative. I thought you’d make a scene. Since we’re breaking up, let’s make it a clean break. Let’s go back to the apartment so I can pack my things. I’ll be out tonight.” I shook my head immediately. “I’ll pack your things for you. Don’t come up.” Honestly, I was trying to protect her. Our friends and family were in that apartment. Some were embarrassed, some were furious. If she walked in there with this guy, it would turn into a brawl. She could get seriously hurt. Despite everything, the thought of what might happen to her in that apartment terrified me. But she didn’t see it that way. “No. I have to go back. The cash he gave me… I hid it. I’m not leaving without it.” “Tell me where it is,” I pleaded. “I’ll get it for you.” Suddenly, Ryan sneered. “You think we’re that stupid?” Chloe looked at him, confused. “What’s wrong with him getting it?” “You think he doesn’t want the money because he has dignity?” Ryan said, his eyes locking onto mine. “He’s just afraid of a bank transfer. A record that we could use to report him for extortion.” Chloe’s eyes widened in dawning realization. “I get it. The money you gave me is all cash. If he takes it, I can’t prove how much was there. If I call the cops, it would just lead back to you.” Ryan nodded, a smug look of satisfaction on his face. “See? You’re smart.” Chloe’s face twisted in fury as she turned back to me. “So that’s why you were being so ‘nice.’ You really are the worst kind of snake. The poorer the man, the more schemes he has. I almost fell for it.” She looked at Ryan with a mixture of gratitude and adoration. “Thank god you were here. The guys who make it to VP really are on another level.” I finally understood. My honesty was my biggest flaw. I was being completely sincere, and they had spun it into some Machiavelian plot in their own minds. And the worst part? Their paranoid theory was so logical, so well-constructed, that even I almost believed it. I was about to tell them about the livestream, but Ryan jabbed a finger in my face. “You listen to me. You’re the one who refused the money. If you breathe a word of this to anyone, do you have any idea what I’ll do?” “What will you do?” I asked. “I’ll lose everything in the divorce,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “But believe me, before that happens, I’ll set aside a hundred grand. I’ll find someone to break your arms and your legs. Twenty grand an arm. You’d be surprised how many people are willing to do that kind of work.” I couldn’t believe it. He was threatening me with violence, admitting to planning a violent crime. And it was all being recorded by the dashcam, witnessed by over a thousand people. This guy wasn’t just going to lose his money in the divorce. He was going to prison. As I stood there, reeling, Chloe, as if she thought I didn’t believe him, added with a cold smile, “You should listen to him. Last month, a janitor at the office saw us. She tried to shake us down for a lot of money. A few days later, she was in a car accident. Do you really think that was a coincidence?” In that moment, the world stopped. Over a thousand people were watching this livestream. And she had just said that. Out loud. If that story was true, Ryan wasn’t just going to jail. He was going away for a very long time. He gave me one last, cold look. “That ‘coincidence’ could happen to you, too.”
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "385959", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel