My Fiancé Went Live Flirting, But The Account Is Mine

During the wedding rehearsal, my fianc said he wanted to test the livestream, so he deliberately switched on the streamer only whisper function.

My best friend was the first to send a message:

You messed up the wedding bed last night. Where's she going to sleep tonight?

Bernard stood beside me, looking at his phone, and typed back:

"Have the cleaner change the sheets. She won't notice."

I asked him why messages kept popping up on the screen.

He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and turned the camera toward us.

"Everyone's saying how beautiful the bride is."

My best friend quickly sent another one:

"Once the baby's born, are you really willing to let her be its ready-made mom?"

Bernard lowered his head and kissed my forehead, but his fingers tapped out a line on the screen:

"She loves me to death. Even if she found out, she'd just put up with it."

I asked him with a smile whether whispers were really only visible to the streamer.

He flicked the tip of my nose.

"Of course. Otherwise, why would they call them whispers?"

But he forgot that this wedding livestream account was registered under my phone number.

Half an hour ago, to test the playback, I'd already synced the account to the big screen in the banquet hall.

Every single word he and his best friend had just said was automatically recorded by the system.

All that was left was for me to press play.

......

My finger rested on the play button.

The big screen was still dark, reflecting my ghost-white face.

One tap, and every word Bernard and Kay had spoken would appear in front of everyone.

But I didn't press it.

It wasn't that I couldn't bring myself to. It was that people from Clearwater Media, Skyline Live, and Blissful Weddings were sitting out there.

They weren't here for a rehearsal. They were here to look at the project.

I was the project lead at Skyline Live, in charge of the wedding livestream product plan, not the on-site acceptance on the day.

That was exactly why Bernard dared to package my wedding as a showcase model.

Clearwater Media was the investor, and the biggest client.

Bernard only knew I handled execution at Skyline. He didn't know the chairman of Clearwater was my uncle.

This livestream account was the real-name main account Skyline uses for couples to run test broadcasts, and it had to be tied to the couple's phone number.

Back then Bernard had coaxed me:

"Your account is clean, it'll clear review the fastest. We'll switch it over to the corporate entity after the wedding."

Only now did I understand that he'd wanted me to take the fall for the permissions all along.

Stephens Corp was behind on the final payment, and its loan renewal was stuck in risk control.

The Clearwater deal was the last plank the Stephenss had left.

But I never imagined he'd counted our wedding in too.

Bernard held me close, smiling gently and gracefully.

"Marilyn, look at the camera."

I didn't move.

He murmured a reminder:

"Don't make a scene. Everyone here today is a partner."

So it turned out that me standing here in a wedding dress was the sample he was handing to the investors.

The camera pushed in, and he adjusted my veil.

"The luckiest thing in my life is marrying Marilyn Fox."

On his phone, Kay sent another message:

"Didn't you say last night that the one you really wanted to hold on the wedding day was me?"

Bernard lowered his eyes and replied:

"I'm coaxing her in front of the camera. The contract can't fall through."

The emcee asked with a smile:

"Would the bride like to say a few words too?"

Bernard's hand pressed against the small of my back, a warning in it.

I looked at the camera.

"I think today will be unforgettable too."

He smiled, satisfied.

After the rehearsal, he pulled me into the dressing room and pushed the "Wedding Livestream Material Supplementary Authorization Confirmation Form" in front of me.

The last page read:

Authorization for wedding livestream content to be used for commercial promotion, platform case studies, and data placement.

I asked, "Why are you only telling me now?"

He said, "It's all part of the livestream project."

I gripped the pen.

"And if I don't sign?"

His face darkened.

"Marilyn, we're just one step away. Don't embarrass me."

A soft laugh came from the doorway.

Kay walked in carrying hot water, my wedding necklace around her neck.

When I told her to take it off, her eyes instantly welled up.

Sure enough, Bernard frowned.

"Marilyn, it's just a necklace. Do you really have to make an issue of it?"

I laughed.

"She's wearing my necklace, and I'm not even allowed to make an issue of it?"

Kay cupped a hand over her belly.

"Bernard, I'm not feeling well."

Bernard immediately steadied her.

I set the pen back on the table.

"I'm not signing."

Before I left, Kay leaned close to my ear:

"Marilyn, if you don't sign now, you'll still have to sign tomorrow."

"Bernard knows better than anyoneyou can't stand to make the people around you look bad."

The door closed, and I pulled up the backend.

The whisper records, system logs, account sync information, test playback numbersit was all there on the screen.

I was the one who'd modified this system for Skyline.

Test playback only recognizes real-name accounts. The project side can delete local materials, but they can't touch the account's original cache.

And to reassure Clearwater, Bernard had signed a joint risk-control agreement.

Once a verified account raises a dispute, Skyline freezes the project side's permissions, and Clearwater can pull the playback.

This was the knife he'd handed me himself.

I took screenshots and backed them up.

My right hand was still shaking when I went to the back office to pull the security footage.

The staff in the monitoring room recognized me.

"Miss Fox, is there something you need?"

"I want to see the full footage of the rehearsal just now."

He looked uncomfortable.

"Mr. Stephens gave instructions that all footage be reviewed by him first."

"It's my account, it's my wedding. Why can't I see it?"

Just as he was about to pull it up, Kay arrived.

She leaned against the door frame, her face pale, but her voice carried a smile.

"Marilyn, are you really going to look into this?"

The staff member made an excuse about grabbing a hard drive and left.

I turned on the recording.

Kay glanced at it and smiled.

She stroked her lower belly.

"This baby was restless all last night. Bernard was so worried, he said he'd have you help take care of it from now on."

My stomach turned.

"Kay, how do you have the nerve?"

She tilted her head and smiled.

"Because he's the one who gave me the nerve."

I turned to leave, and she suddenly grabbed my right hand, her nails digging hard into my palm.

"Marilyn, don't go."

I shook her off.

"Let go!"

She used the momentum to press my hand against her belly and fell backward.

Behind her were three steps.

She fell so precisely, her waist and belly clearing the sharp corner, her knees slamming hard against the edge.

Blood seeped down her calves into the hem of her skirt, and from the doorway it looked like she was bleeding under her dress.

She wasn't betting on the baby.

She was betting that everyone would see the blood first, and hear her cry after.

That was the moment Bernard rushed in.

"Kay!"

Kay sobbed, trembling.

"Bernard, I only wanted to talk Marilyn out of canceling the wedding, and she pushed me..."

I looked down at my own hand.

The spot where she'd dug into my old scar had split open, blood dripping down my palm onto the red carpet.

I pointed at the cameras.

"Pull the full footage. It'll show her grabbing my hand."

Bernard scooped Kay up and glanced at me.

No shock, no concern.

Only calculation.

When the manager and medical staff arrived, I said again:

"Pull the footage."

But Bernard said to the manager:

"Seal the footage for now. Don't let it get out."

My head snapped toward him.

"Bernard!"

He avoided my eyes and said to the medical staff:

"She's been emotionally unstable lately. She did get into a physical altercation with Kay just now."

He never said, out loud, that I pushed her.

But everyone understood.

I was the emotionally unstable bride, and Kay was the pregnant woman I'd hurt.

As she was being lifted into the ambulance, she cried and clung to Bernard:

"Bernard, are we going to lose our baby?"

Bernard held her hand.

"No. I'm here."

I stood where I was, blood dripping onto the red carpet.

Ten minutes later, a video appeared in the family group chat.

Kay's skirt stained with blood, and me cropped down to a shot from behind, mid-push.

Caption:

"On the eve of the wedding, bride allegedly shoves her pregnant bridesmaid."

Bernard called.

"Marilyn, Kay's fine for now."

I asked:

"So you know she's fine?"

"And you know I didn't push her?"

He was silent for a moment.

"Now isn't the time to get into who's to blame."

I laughed.

"Then when is the time? After I've been cursed out? After your project is signed? Or after her baby is born?"

His voice went cold.

"Marilyn, she's already bleeding!"

I looked at my hand, stitched up until it had gone purple.

"I'm bleeding too."

He said:

"You only hurt your hand."

Then he added:

"The wedding goes ahead as planned tomorrow. I'll keep tonight's business quiet."

I asked softly:

"What you're keeping quietis it the rumor, or my innocence?"

He didn't answer.

The nurse said if it split open again it might leave a scar.

I looked at the ugly stitches across my palm.

A scar would be fine.

Something has to remind me not to be blind again.

I went straight from the hospital back to the hotel, heading for the data center in the basement.

The verified account playback could prove the affair and the humiliation, but it couldn't clear me of "shoving a pregnant woman."

I needed the complete backstage footage from the banquet hall.

The hotel's server room ran on an internal network, so surveillance footage couldn't be transmitted out directlyit could only be copied onto a physical hard drive and carried out for review.

That was why I had to come in person.

The technician on duty looked a little troubled when he saw me.

"Miss Fox, Mr. Stephens said he's taking over all the footage."

I set down my ID and my verified account information.

"The account is mine. I'm the authorized person."

"I want to copy the original footage of my own wedding."

He hesitated, then nodded.

The progress bar crept forward bit by bit.

The door was suddenly pushed open.

Bernard stood in the doorway, and his face changed when he saw the computer.

"Marilyn, what are you doing?"

I unplugged the hard drive and turned to go.

He clamped down on my wrist.

"Give it to me."

I sucked in a breath from the pain.

"Let go."

He saw the blood on my hand and panicked for an instant, but he still said,

"Don't blow this up."

I looked up.

"Are you afraid I'll blow it up, or afraid I'll bring out the truth?"

His throat bobbed.

"Kay's pregnancy isn't stable. If you pull that footage now, it'll drive her out of her mind."

"So you want me to keep being the one who shoved a pregnant woman?"

"I'll explain it for you."

"When?"

"After the wedding."

After the wedding, again.

In his mind, everything could wait.

My innocence could wait.

My injury could wait.

Only his project couldn't wait.

He reached out to grab the hard drive.

I gripped it as hard as I could.

Bernard lowered his voice.

"Marilyn, I'm saving Stephens Corp, and I'm saving our future too."

"You can endure one night. It won't kill you."

I looked at my bleeding hand and suddenly laughed.

"So as long as I don't die, none of it counts as anything."

As we struggled, my back slammed into a metal rack, and the edge sliced open my forearm. Blood gushed out at once.

The pain blacked out my vision, but I still didn't let go.

His assistant hurried in.

"Mr. Stephens, Clearwater is pushing for a risk-control statement."

"The video's already spread to the partner group chat. If there's another twist, tomorrow's signing might"

Bernard closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

He pried my fingers apart.

The stitches tore, sharp pain exploded through me, and I dropped to my knees.

He took the hard drive.

I looked up at him.

"You know it proves I didn't push her, don't you?"

His face was dark. He didn't dare look at mebut he took it anyway.

The assistant asked,

"How do we handle it?"

Bernard kept his back to me.

"Clean up the sensitive content."

This wasn't Bernard's first time packaging a project.

He figured that by deleting the hotel's local hard drive and rewriting the backend logs to read "operated by the account holder," all the blame would land on me.

In his eyes, I was his fianceand also the most convenient person to take the fall.

Stephens Corp's tech team quickly faked the anomaly records into my verified operation.

In the system logs, I became the person who deleted the footage and transferred the permissions.

Half an hour later, I got a notice from Skyline Live.

"Marilyn Fox, because you are suspected of privately operating the backend of a partner project, deleting live-broadcast footage, and causing serious public-opinion risk, the company has decided to suspend your project-lead privileges pending an internal investigation."

This project was something I'd worked three months to build, and in the end it became the knife Bernard used to shove the blame onto me.

I went to the company for a backup, but the manager wouldn't look at me.

"The footage has been taken over, the original files are being overwritten, and the permissions have already been transferred to Stephens Corp's tech team."

In the family group chat, that edited video was spreading even more wildly.

Someone tagged my dad.

"Mr. Fox, you'd better rein your daughter in. Don't let her disgrace the whole Fox family."

My face changed on the spot.

My dad has a weak heart.

Bernard knew that.

I called my father right away. No one answered.

The nurses' station picked up, and the nurse said urgently,

"Miss Fox, you need to come right away."

"A Mrs. Stephens just came by. She's talking to your father about the wedding."

As I bolted out, Kay sent me a photo.

In the hospital room, my father's face was pale.

Mrs. Stephens was shoving the "bride shoves pregnant woman" video right in front of his eyes.

Kay sent a message:

"Marilyn, do you think your uncle will believe you, or believe what he saw with his own eyes?"

When I got to the hospital, Mrs. Stephens was already inside the ward.

The nurse had tried to stop her.

"Mr. Fox just finished his cardiac evaluation. He can't be upset."

But Mrs. Stephens only held her phone closer.

"His daughter's caused a scene like thisshouldn't her own father know about it?"

On the hospital bed, my dad's face was frighteningly pale.

Mrs. Stephens sneered.

"It's all on video, and you're still covering for her?"

"She's got the reputation of shoving a pregnant woman now, and Skyline Live suspended her. Besides Bernard, who else can cover for her?"

I rushed in.

"Shut up!"

When my father saw the bandages all over my hands and the blood on my sleeve, his eyes went red at once.

"Marilyn, did they hurt you?"

I hadn't cried while I was cursed at, blamed, and pinned down bleeding outside, but one sentence from him and my tears spilled over instantly.

Mrs. Stephens was still going.

"The wedding goes ahead tomorrow as planned. She walks onstage with a smile, and the rumors die down on their own."

My father whipped his head toward her.

"If my daughter doesn't want to marry, then she doesn't marry!"

He said it and started to get out of bed, then suddenly clutched his chest, his face draining white.

"Dad!"

His forehead struck the bed rail, and blood ran down from his temple.

Doctors and nurses rushed in.

"Family, step back!"

I knelt on the floor, and the wound on my hand tore open again.

"Doctor, please save my dad!"

When the red light over the intensive care unit came on, Bernard arrived.

He saw my blood and panicked for only a moment before he said quietly,

"Marilyn, Uncle Walter is already like this. All the more reason the wedding tomorrow can't be canceled."

"If you stand beside me, everyone will think the video was just a misunderstanding."

"After the wedding, I'll help you get your job back, and I'll arrange the best doctors for Uncle Walter too."

I looked at him and suddenly he felt like a terrifying stranger.

I asked,

"If my dad really dies, are you going to make me finish broadcasting the wedding first?"

He said nothing.

His silence was the answer.

I pried his hands off me.

"Fine. The wedding goes ahead tomorrow."

His eyes brightened for a moment.

"I knew you wouldn't be that unreasonable."

At four in the morning, the doctor said my dad was out of danger for now, but still needed observation.

I used my verified account to submit a "Dispute Review Application," uploading the private-message ID, the server-room recording, and the ward video all together, then sent them to my uncle.

He only replied with one line:

"Do whatever you want to do. Uncle Nathan's here."

Before I left, the caregiver and the head of cardiology were already stationed outside the ward.

At seven that morning, I put on my wedding dress.

The red carpet, the media, the friends and family, the partnerseveryone was there.

Bernard stood at the far end of the stage, gentle and dignified in his white suit.

He took my hand and murmured,

"Marilyn, thank you."

I smiled.

This was the last time I would ever act alongside him.

The emcee announced the exchange of rings.

Bernard knelt on one knee, his voice full of tenderness.

"Marilyn, it's been eight years."

"From today on, I'll protect you and never let you suffer the slightest wrong."

Comments flooded the screen.

"So moving!"

"Yesterday's stuff must have been a misunderstanding."

I looked down at him.

Yesterday, it had been this same face.

He'd said it was only a hand injury, said the wedding couldn't be canceled, said that since my dad was in the ICU, all the more reason for me to stand onstage.

I reached out my hand.

He let out a breath of relief, picked up the ring, and was about to slide it onto my ring finger.

The banquet hall lights suddenly went dark.

The applause cut off all at once.

The big screen at the back of the stage flickered without warning.

The ring in Bernard's hand fell to the floor.

The next second, Bernard heard the sound of his own rehearsal broadcast coming from the big screen.

He whipped his head around.