The alpha begged for forgiveness after hurting me

"Ah... baby, not so rough~"

"Hold me tight... let's come together."

Breathy moans mixed with low grunt-like groans spilled from the phone's speaker.

The cab driver couldn't help himself-he glanced in the rearview mirror at the stunning girl in the backseat. Awkward and half-joking, he said, "Young lady, I get that times have changed, but maybe leave those spicy videos for some private time at home with your guy, yeah?"

Carol Bennett slowly looked up. Her gorgeous features now carried a layer of frosty detachment.

She tilted her phone, revealing a clear live feed from a home surveillance camera. Her voice was as cold as ice. "That is my boyfriend. From my home security system."

The driver immediately shut up, giving her a silent, sympathetic look before snapping his eyes back to the road.

The sounds from the phone only seemed louder in the silence.

Carol lowered her head again, staring at the messy entanglement of bodies onscreen. Ryan Morgan-the guy who swore he loved her, who said they'd marry once her long-distance job ended-was now getting it on with another woman.

She clenched her fists so hard her nails dug into her palms, the sting barely grounding her from the nausea and hurt twisting in her gut.

No tears. No dramatic breakdown. Just a subtle, steady chill settling in her eyes.

With practiced calm, she exited the video, opened her phone's editing app, trimmed the most damning few seconds, and uploaded it anonymously to a trending video site.

She gave it a clean, cutting title-"Riverton's Playboy: Ryan's At-Home Feature"-and hit send.

Done. She exhaled slowly, then dialed the contact labeled "Donald Bennett."

He answered almost immediately.

No greetings, no pleasantries. Her voice was cold, emotionless, firm enough to bruise.

"Fifty grand. Send it to my Venmo now. That marriage you mentioned? I'm in. After that, we go our separate ways."

There was a pause. Then a man's voice, thick with barely held excitement:

"Carol, you've finally come to your senses! I'll-"

She hung up before he wasted another word.

Within seconds, her phone chimed-"Venmo: $50,000 received."

The driver's hands visibly trembled, making the car jolt slightly. He glanced back again, this time like he couldn't quite believe the scene unfolding behind him.

Carol didn't acknowledge the look. She simply lifted her chin and said in an even tone, "Change of plans. Take me to the County Clerk's Office."

The driver dared not ask questions and quickly turned the wheel at the next intersection.

Ten minutes later, they pulled up in front of a quiet government building.

It was early evening-well past closing time-but a sharply dressed man stood waiting at the side entrance, hands clasped, posture professional.

As soon as Carol stepped out, he approached with practiced ease.

"Ms. Bennett, hello. This is your and Mr. Ethan Mitchell's marriage certificate, fully signed and processed. Please keep it safe."

He handed her a crisp white envelope-standard issue, but freshly sealed.

Carol paused for half a second. She had assumed the marriage was symbolic, just for show. But this? No in-person appearance, no ID checks, not even a signature?

That was something else.