Chapter 3 - The Price of a Livestream
"Mr. Moretti, please," Arthur Pendelton finally spoke, his voice trembling. He looked at Madison as if she were a plague rat. "The Apex Group had no knowledge of this. If we had known these... these creatures were associated with such behavior, we never would have considered them for the Harbor City project."
Madison’s jaw dropped. "Mr. Pendelton? What are you talking about? We have a contract—"
"You had a proposal," Pendelton snapped, his professional veneer cracking under pure terror. "And it is officially dead. As of this second, the Apex Group severed all ties with Cole Marketing and Price Enterprises."
Madison’s phone slipped a fraction of an inch in her hand. The comments on her livestream were moving so fast they were a blur.
Who is that guy? Did he just call him Moretti? Oh my god, look at the CEO's face, he's terrified. Is she going to jail?
"You can't do that," Madison whispered, her voice cracking. "We invested half a million of our own capital into the preliminary campaign! If you pull out, we're ruined!"
"Then you are ruined," Gabriel said smoothly. He pulled out a chair from the adjacent table, turned it backward, and sat down. He looked at Madison, his dark eyes reflecting the glow of her phone's ring light. "Do you know who I am, Miss Cole?"
"I... I don't care who you are," she lied, her bravado crumbling.
"My name is Gabriel Moretti," he said.
A collective gasp echoed from a nearby table where a group of young executives were sitting. They knew the name. Everyone in Harbor City’s upper echelon knew the name. He was the ghost that controlled the docks, the concrete that built the skyscrapers, and the shadow that decided who succeeded and who disappeared.
"And the woman you chose to humiliate for the amusement of your digital audience," Gabriel continued, leaning forward, "is my wife."
The silence that followed was absolute.
Madison felt the blood drain from her face so fast she became dizzy. She looked from Gabriel to Arthur Pendelton, who was nodding grimly, confirming the nightmare. She looked down at her phone. The internet, which had been cheering her on five minutes ago, had completely turned.
SHE DRENCHED A MAFIA BOSS'S WIFE?! RIP Madison Cole. Bro, Evan is literally crying. Someone check the obituary tomorrow.
"I... I didn't know," Madison stammered, tears finally welling in her eyes, threatening to ruin her expensive mascara. "She was just a waitress... she was slow, and it was just a joke for the stream! It was a prank! People do pranks all the time!"
"A joke," Gabriel mused. He tapped his chin. "Viktor, do I look like a man who appreciates comedy?"
"No, Boss. You have a terrible sense of humor," Viktor replied deadpan.
Gabriel stood up, walking slowly around the table until he was standing directly behind Madison. He leaned down, his breath warm against her ear, though his words were ice. "My wife is a saint, Miss Cole. She works here because she believes in honest labor, because she refuses to be corrupted by the wealth I offer her. She handles the ugliness of the world with grace. But I am not a saint."
He reached out and gently took the phone from Madison’s hand. She was too paralyzed with fear to stop him.
May you like
Gabriel looked into the camera. "To everyone watching," he said, his voice carrying a calm, terrifying authority. "This stream is over. And so is the career of Madison Cole."
He dropped the phone into Madison’s half-eaten bowl of pasta. The screen flickered, went green under the sauce, and died.
