Livestreaming My Cheating Billionaire Husband

Jasmine

The background jazz music was soothing as it wafted through the large dining hall. I found myself humming along until...

"Another glass of the Dom Pérignon, Madame Sterling?" the waiter asked in a thick French accent, tilting the bottle. "Mr. Sterling is delayed, but there is no reason the night cannot begin."

I looked at the empty chair across from me. Jason was forty minutes late. It wasn't the first time, but tonight was very special to us. I really wanted to believe tonight would be different.

"Yes, please," I said, forcing a polite smile.

I took a sip, the cold champagne bubbling against my throat. It tasted expensive, the kind of vintage my father used to stock by the crates in our winter estate. But I had spent three years pretending to be amazed by Jason's upper-middle-class lifestyle, letting him believe he was introducing me to a world I couldn't otherwise afford. It turned sour the moment I looked around the room. In the corner booth, a young couple was holding hands over a candle, whispering and laughing. Near the door, a man walked in with his arm wrapped tightly around a lady's waist, pulling her close.

My chest ached. Three years ago, Jason and I were just like them. Starry-eyed, holding hands, completely obsessed with each other. We married within six months. Today was supposed to be our third anniversary. We should have walked in here together, with his arm around my waist, just like the couple sitting in the corner.

My eyes wandered to them. They were leaning so close to each other that they were almost touching noses. I stared at them with dazed eyes, completely sucked in, until my phone beeped loudly.

I blinked, pulling myself back to reality. My heart did a quick, hopeful flutter as I grabbed my bag. I expected a text saying 'I'm downstairs,' or 'Stuck in traffic.'

It wasn't from Jason. It was an unknown number.

Unknown: You look very fine tonight, Mrs. Sterling. It's a shame Jason is balls deep in another woman right now. Sienna Suites, 104 West Lane. Penthouse B.

I froze.

Instantly, the warmth of the restaurant vanished, replaced by a wave of cold goosebumps that broke out across my arms. A violent spike of nausea hit me. My head spinning, I swept a panicked glance around the dining room, terrified that someone was watching me, laughing at me. But the waiters kept gliding past with silver trays, and the lovey-dovey couples remained locked in their perfect, smiling worlds.

My mind raced. I clutched my bag, my hands shaking so badly I could barely hold it. This can't be real, I told myself. Jason is cold; he's arrogant, but he would never do this. Can he?

I couldn't sit there for another second. I stood up, abandoning the bubbling champagne, and rushed out into the humid night air.

The drive across the city was a blur. Neon lights smeared across the windshield as tears burned behind my eyes. My grip on the steering wheel was trembling, the tires screeching as the car veered recklessly over the lane lines. I gasped for air, but my chest felt locked behind iron bands.

I had given up everything for him. My family's staggering wealth, my status, my inheritance-I had walked away from it all and accepted a vow of poverty to prove I loved a man who was currently throwing me away like trash. I had endured his mother's snide remarks about my lack of a family pedigree. I had let his friends look down on me as a penniless nobody.

When I finally pulled up to the Sienna Suites, I felt completely hollow.

I entered the lobby, legs wobbling. I approached the reception desk and mumbled the words, half-expecting the lady to turn me away or call security.

"I'm here for... Penthouse B. Jason Sterling."

Instead of looking confused or asking for identification, the receptionist smiled. It was a wide, brilliant, rehearsed smile that sent a shiver down my spine. It felt surreal, as though I had stepped into someone else's nightmare. I actually pinched the flesh of my inner arm to force myself awake.

"Ah, yes, Mrs. Sterling," she said cheerfully, sliding a sleek black card across the counter. "Our guest has been expecting you. Here is the master key card."

Expecting me?

I didn't breathe a reply. I snatched the plastic with a clammy hand and hurried toward the elevator. The ride up was dead silent, save for the thumping of my own pulse roaring in my ears.

Ding.

The doors slid open directly into the penthouse.

I didn't even have to look. The noises hit me first. A low, breathless giggle, followed by a heavy, familiar groan. I knew that groan. I had heard it a thousand times in the dark of our own bedroom. It was him. But the high-pitched, desperate whimper that followed didn't belong to me.

It belonged to Victoria-his stepsister.

The very woman I had spent months feeling insecure about. Every time I had brought her up, Jason had scoffed, calling me crazy, telling me it meant nothing.

My heart plummeted straight into my stomach. I took unsure steps forward, my heels making no sound against the soft, plush carpet. The double doors to the master bedroom were wide open.

They were right there on the bed.

Jason's tailored suit jacket was discarded on the floor; his shirt was torn open, his pants pulled down around his thighs. They hadn't even had the decency to fully undress. Victoria was straddling him, her silk dress bunched up around her waist.

I stood paralyzed in the shadows, watching her back arch, her fingers tangled in his dark hair as she rode him. The sickening wet sounds filled the room. I couldn't see her face, but Jason's face was framed perfectly by the headboard. His eyes were locked on her with a look I hadn't seen directed at me in years.

The shock hit me like a physical fist to the gut. The suffocating mix of betrayal, rage, and grief tightened around my throat, choking out my air. I wanted to scream. I opened my mouth to tear the room apart.

But no sound came out.

And then, as the initial shock settled, I felt myself go very still. The violent shaking in my hands stopped entirely. The chaotic panic evaporated, replaced by a cold, razor-sharp clarity.

The three-year test was officially over.

And Jason Sterling had just failed it.

I stood perfectly straight, my shoulders dropping as my face smoothed into a flawless, emotionless mask. Slowly, calmly, I reached into my designer bag and pulled out my phone.

I opened the camera app, framed the sweating, writhing couple perfectly in the lens, and hit the button to unlock the live feed to my family's network.

Jasmine

The camera on my phone didn't shake. I held it perfectly steady, watching the little red 'LIVE' icon blink. Thanks to the master access credentials I'd quietly retained after helping design parts of Sterling Media's shareholder communications network years ago, this wasn't just going to my private socials.

The feed was streaming directly onto Sterling Media's global shareholder platform and the massive screen inside the headquarters, where their late-night investor presentation was currently happening. It was perfect timing.

The grunts, groans, and wet, slick sex noises from the room suddenly stopped.

Victoria was the first to notice. Her eyes snapped open, looking straight at me. Instead of panicking, a slow, incredibly smug smile spread across her face. She didn't even pull the sheets up.

"Oh. Look who decided to show up," Victoria purred, intentionally shifting her weight to stay tangled with my husband. "You're late for your anniversary, Jasmine."

Jason froze. He turned his head slowly, his face instantly draining of color when he saw me standing in the doorway. He scrambled backward, nearly tripping over his own trousers as he tried to pull the duvet over himself.

For a fraction of a second, something sharp twisted in my chest. Three years of love, sacrifice, and humiliation flashed through my mind.

Then the feeling disappeared.

I felt nothing.

"Jasmine! Wait-it's not what it looks like," Jason stammered, his hands shaking as he tried to cover his chest. "I swear, I... we were just... I'm sorry. This doesn't mean anything. I can explain, let me explain."

I didn't blink. I didn't cry. My expression remained completely blank.

"Explain what, Jason?" I said, my voice deadpan. I glanced between them. "The fact that you are fucking your stepsister right now? The same one you told me I was insecure about?" My gaze settled on him. "Or the fact that you chose to do this on our anniversary night?"

"Don't act so holy, Jasmine," Victoria snapped, sitting up and crossing her arms, her voice dripping with venom. "You've been a ghost in his life for three years. A penniless, boring drag. He deserves a real woman, not a charity case. You have nowhere to go anyway, so shut up and let him handle it."

"Right. A charity case," I murmured, entirely unbothered.

Jason looked completely desperate now, sweating despite the perfect air conditioning. "Jasmine, please. Just put the phone down. Let's talk about this privately. We can fix this."

"Nah," I shook my head. "I highly doubt that." I glanced at my phone screen. "I've already taken it to hell."

"Stop being such a pathetic bitch and give him the phone!" Victoria yelled, finally realizing something was wrong as her own phone on the nightstand started buzzing repeatedly.

Jason noticed the angle of my arm. He lunged out of the bed, reaching aggressively to snatch the phone out of my hand. "Give me the damn phone, Jasmine!"

I stepped back seamlessly, completely out of his reach.

At that exact moment, my screen started flashing with financial alerts. I glanced down. The live chat on the shareholder platform was moving too fast to read, thousands of furious investors screaming for answers. News reports were already breaking. The headline at the top of my screen read: Sterling CEO Caught in Live Affair. Right below it, the real-time stock ticker showed a sharp, violent red line.

Sterling Group stock had just plummeted by 8% in less than four minutes.

Numbers kept climbing, the stocks kept falling, and the panic was spreading.

Jason's phone began to ring loudly, likely a call from someone at the company. He froze, looking from his phone to me, his chest heaving with panic. His eyes were wide with fear. "What have you done, Jasmine?"

I looked down at my hand. I reached down, twisted the diamond wedding band off my finger, and let it drop. It hit the hardwood floor with a sharp click, rolling right to his bare feet. The sound it made as it hit the floor was too loud in the quiet room.

"There, I'm officially asking for a divorce."

At that point, all the color had drained from his face. "What?" he asked in disbelief.

I didn't look at Jason. I looked directly into the camera lens of my phone.

"As of tonight, the Sterling name is a liability," I said clearly.

I ended the stream, turned on my heel, and walked out.

I drove straight back to the Sterling mansion. I didn't have much to pack, just a few personal clothes and a small box of sentimental items I'd kept from my life before this marriage. I kept it quick, wanting to be out before the media circus caught up to the estate.

But someone was already waiting for me.

When I dragged my small suitcase out through the front doors, the sky had completely opened up. Rain was pouring down in sheets. Standing under the grand porch was Jason's stepmother, Eleanor. She was holding two more of my old bags, her face twisted in absolute disgust.

Before I could even step onto the driveway, Eleanor threw the bags straight past me. They landed with a heavy, wet splash right into a massive puddle of mud at the curb.

"You absolute piece of trash!" Eleanor shrieked over the sound of the rain, her voice shaking with rage. "You ruined my son's company with your pathetic little stunt! How dare you! Look at you! You're leaving here with absolutely nothing, just like the day you dragged your penniless feet into this house! I knew he should never have had anything to do with your poverty-stricken self. I warned him, but he never listened. Now look what you've done!"

I stopped. I looked at the cheap bags soaking in the mud. Then I looked at Eleanor.

A small, genuine smile broke across my face.

"You're right, Eleanor. I am leaving with nothing of yours," I said softly.

"Don't you dare smile at me, you orphan!" she barked, stepping forward to glare down her nose at me. "Go on! Walk down the street in the rain. Let's see how long your pride lasts when you're begging for a meal!"

I didn't answer. I just stepped over the wet clothes, walking casually out to the curb.

"You're pathetic! You'll get what's coming to you, I promise..."

I drowned out her voice. Right as I reached the edge of the driveway, Eleanor's expression suddenly changed. Her rant stopped mid-sentence. Confusion flickered across her face.

Then the dark street lit up.

Headlights appeared through the heavy rain. One pair. Then another, and another.

I slowly turned around.

A loud, synchronized roar of engines cut through the sound of the heavy storm. A flawless convoy of six sleek, armored black SUVs pulled up to the curb. They moved with military precision, completely blocking off the street.

The door to the vehicle in front clicked open.

A man in a perfectly tailored, formal suit stepped out into the pouring rain. He didn't care about the water. He walked straight toward me, stopping exactly two feet away before bowing at a perfect, rigid ninety-degree angle.

"Welcome back, Miss Vance," his voice boomed, clear and commanding. "The global board of directors is fully assembled and awaiting your arrival."

I nodded once. Then I stepped inside the dry, leather-scented warmth of the luxury vehicle.

Through the tinted glass window, I looked back one last time. Eleanor was standing frozen at the edge of the porch, the driving rain soaking her expensive hair. Her mouth hung open. Her eyes were fixed on the convoy.

For the first time since I'd known her, she looked afraid.

Then the mansion disappeared behind us.

And so did my old life.

Jasmine

The car was still on the inside, but outside, it was the complete opposite. The rain lashed against the bulletproof windows, blurring my view of the city.

And then I finally broke.

The cold mask I had worn in the penthouse and on the driveway crumbled. I pulled my knees to my chest, buried my face in my hands, and let the tears come. I sobbed until my throat burned, shaking with the humiliation of the last three years.

I had given that family my youth, my peace, and my dignity. I had cooked their meals, endured their insults, and let them treat me like dirt-all for a man who was screwing his stepsister while I was all by myself at an anniversary dinner date he organized for us.

A box of tissues was quietly pushed into my field of vision.

I looked up through blurred eyes. Marcus was sitting across from me, his posture perfectly rigid. He had been my personal bodyguard since I was seven years old. Looking at him now, he hadn't changed a bit-same sharp, unreadable dark eyes, same silver-flecked hair, same calming, assuring presence.

"Would you like to divert to the estate and rest for the night, Miss Vance?" Marcus asked, his deep voice carrying a rare, gentle softness.

I wiped my cheeks, shaking my head violently. "No. There's too much to deal with. The board is waiting." I swallowed the lump in my throat, looking at him. "How did you even know to come for me tonight? To set the meeting with the board?"

Marcus gave a faint, almost imperceptible tilt of his head. "We saw the livestream, Miss. The moment it hit the news, I knew exactly what you wanted. I knew the test had ended, and the wait was over."

A fresh wave of tears hit me, and I didn't even try to stop them. Without a word, Marcus shifted across the leather seat and wrapped a heavy, protective arm around my shoulders, pulling me to his side. I leaned into his shoulder, crying for the girl who had spent three years trying to force herself into a box that was too small for her.

As the car sped toward the corporate district, I thought about my father.

His final, bizarre wish had been the blueprint for my misery. Before he passed away, right after I returned from my schooling abroad, he had sat me down with his lawyers. The will was ironclad: I was not to touch a single dime of the Vance Global fortune until I either found true love or had children of my own.

"The Vance name is a target, Jasmine," he had told me, his eyes tired and heavy. "Wealth like ours breeds monsters. I want you to know what real happiness feels like before the boardrooms consume you. Find someone who loves you for you, not the empire."

So, I had obliged him. I hid my name. I took a vow of poverty, using only a small stipend to get by, working a mundane desk job where I eventually met Jason. The world knew Vance Global had a sole, mysterious heir, but the public had been thrown into a decade-long frenzy trying to uncover who it was. Investigative journalists had spent years chasing ghosts.

By the time the convoy reached Vance Tower, my tears had stopped.

I wiped my eyes, staring out at the towering skyscraper of Vance Global as it loomed into view.

The test was officially over. My father's romantic dream was dead, buried in a cheap penthouse suite on West Lane. But I was finally ready.

An hour later, the elevator doors of the executive floor slid open.

I stepped out, the wet clothes and tears completely gone. Now, I wore a tailored, crisp white pantsuit that hugged my frame. My dark hair was pulled back into a sleek, high ponytail, exposing the sharp lines of my jaw.

Laura hurried beside me. "Hello, Miss Vance, it's a pleasure to see you again," she said, her tablet buzzing with endless notifications.

I smiled at her. "Thank you, Laura."

Laura had worked with my father in the last years of his life. She was one of the few people who had known and kept his most important secret: my identity.

"The board of directors is furious, Miss Vance," Laura whispered quickly, trying to match my aggressive stride. "They're displeased to be called in at midnight on such short notice. However, the moment we logged the alert that the official Vance heir was finally stepping forward to address them, every single seat was filled within twenty minutes."

"Let them grumble," I said, my voice cutting through the quiet corridor.

As we neared the massive mahogany double doors of the grand boardroom, the muffled sound of angry, impatient male voices leaked through the opening.

"...utterly ridiculous to drag us out of bed for a ghost!" one older director was scoffing. "If this heir thinks he can just toy with the governance of this company-"

The security guards threw the doors open.

The room fell into a dead, suffocating silence the exact second I came into frame. A dozen elderly, wealthy men froze in their leather chairs, their mouths hanging open. Standing at the perimeter of the room, a small, hand-selected group of media personnel let out a collective gasp.

Suddenly, the cameras went completely berserk.

The flashes were blinding, casting sharp white light against my white suit. I didn't blink. I walked straight down the center of the room, flanked by Marcus and three elite bodyguards. I didn't sit at the foot of the table. I walked right to the head of the boardroom, placing both hands flat on the polished wood.

"You're Jasmine Sterling?" one of the men asked, peering at me through the ridge of his glasses.

"Jasmine Vance," I corrected.

"That is impossible!" another muttered under his breath.

"Well, from my birth certificate and the will my father signed, which the lawyer would present a copy of to you if you so wish..." I gestured towards the tall, lanky man seated at the end of the table. He nodded in agreement. "It says I am Jasmine Vance, heir of Vance Global."

"That can't-"

"In the absence of any more interruptions..." I cut in loudly. "I'd like to say a few things."

The grumbling ceased entirely. Every eye in the room was locked on the "penniless orphan" they had read about in the tabloids just an hour ago.

I looked slowly around the table, my expression ice-cold.

"Good evening, gentlemen," I said. The silence in the room was deafening. "Let's not waste time. Your first order of business tonight is simple."

I leaned forward slightly, my eyes locking onto the chief financial officer.

"Short every single stock owned by the Sterling family. Pull our tech licenses from their servers, and dismantle their logistics network by sunrise. I want Jason Sterling to wake up to a kingdom made of ash."