Livestream Showdown With My Rival

I had just unveiled the centerpiece of my shop to three million viewers online pulling back the red silk with a flourish when Selena, my top-donating fan, kicked my front door open and walked in with two bodyguards at her back.

She slammed a pregnancy test and a stack of explicit love letters straight into my face.

"Quinn! You used my fianc's money to open this shop, and you're carrying his bastard child you make me sick!"

The comment section exploded. "Home wrecker, go die" flooded every inch of the screen.

In my previous life, the chaos had shattered me. I'd panicked and cut the stream. My best friend Vivian had locked me in the basement storage room under the guise of "letting things cool down."

That night, the restoration solvent in the storage room leaked.

I was poisoned to death in the dark. I clawed at the iron door until my fingernails tore and all I got in return was Vivian's cold laugh from the other side.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the exact moment before Selena's hand came down.

I shot my arm up and seized her wrist, let out a sharp laugh, and shoved the camera directly into her face.

"Selena, since you're claiming I'm carrying Ethan's child then let's invite Ethan into this livestream right now. In front of everyone. Let's find out exactly whose child this really is."

The heat of the studio lights burned against my cheeks.

The ringing in my ears hadn't faded yet, and Selena's face twisted with fury was already filling my entire field of vision.

Smack.

The thick stack of love letters and the pregnancy test hit the bridge of my nose like a wave of papers. The sharp edge of one page sliced a thin cut across my cheek.

The pain was real.

I wasn't dead.

I gulped air in ragged breaths. The burning sensation in my chest the one the chemical solvent had carved into me still lingered like a phantom. But everything around me was undeniably, unmistakably real. Three years in the past.

My antique restoration studio. The anniversary livestream.

"Quinn! Have you no shame!"

Selena's voice was sharp enough to blow out the microphone.

She was dressed in a tailored designer suit, four broad-shouldered bodyguards behind her, completely blocking the front entrance to my studio.

The viewer count in the top corner of the stream was climbing at a terrifying rate.

One million. Two million. Three million.

Selena was my top donor and one of the most well-known socialites in the industry. She'd commissioned over a million dollars' worth of restoration work from me. Every time I went live, she'd throw in massive tips and push my stream to the top of the platform.

Everyone had assumed she was here today to cheer me on.

Then she dropped the pregnancy test on my worktable.

"Everyone, take a good look! This is the so-called 'genius jewelry restorer' you've all been worshipping!"

Selena jabbed her finger in my face, her hand trembling.

"She's been living off my fianc Ethan's money, playing the independent woman act all while carrying his bastard behind closed doors!"

"Quinn, you've been spending my money and sleeping with my man. Don't you ever have nightmares?"

After a stunned silence, the comment section detonated.

"Oh my god, this is INSANE."

"Top donor exposing the other woman live? Let's gooo!"

"I literally just bought one of her mystery restoration boxes. Disgusting. I want a refund."

"Looks innocent on the outside and pulls this garbage. Unbelievable."

"Cancel her. This kind of trash influencer needs to be gone."

The curses and insults rolled across the screen like a tidal wave.

My fingertips rested on the edge of the worktable. They'd gone cold and numb.

I knew this.

I knew all of this.

It was the same day in my previous life. The same livestream.

I had just finished showing the world a sapphire tiara I'd spent six months restoring when Selena stormed in with her people.

Back then, my first instinct hadn't been to fight back. It had been fear. Fear that the studio's reputation would be destroyed. Fear that clients would cancel. Fear that years of work would collapse overnight.

Vivian had been standing beside me, eyes red, grabbing my arm in a panic.

"Quinn, cut the stream!"

"These people online just want drama. The longer you stream, the worse it gets. Selena's furious right now let's apologize to her privately, refund whatever she needs, and stop this before it spirals."

I had believed her.

I'd cut the stream in a panic.

Afterward, Vivian wrote a public statement on my behalf.

Not a single line admitted I'd been the other woman but every sentence implied I was "naive," "deceived by Ethan," and "willing to take full responsibility."

The next day, Selena brought people to wreck my studio.

Irreplaceable antiques were smashed to pieces. Restoration chemicals soaked the floor.

Then came the solvent leak in the basement.

I was locked inside. The fumes crept down my throat, slow and patient.

From behind the door, I heard Vivian's voice.

"I told you to sign the studio over to me. You had to be stubborn. Now look your name is ruined, your reputation is gone. This place was always going to be mine in the end."

In that moment, every unanswered question fell into place.

Now, I was back at the starting point of my own destruction.

A cup of warm water appeared at my elbow.

Vivian's voice dropped low still wearing that mask of frantic concern.

"Quinn, you look terrible. Listen to me don't go head to head with Selena right now."

"She's furious. Just back down a little. Tell her you didn't know Ethan was engaged. Keep her calm for now and I'll handle the PR afterward."

The rim of the cup was half an inch from my hand.

I didn't take it.

Vivian had been my college roommate. My co-founder and operations director at the studio. I handled restoration, authentication, and on-camera work. She handled business development, advertising, and community management.

The studio had grown from a basement workshop to ten million followers. She'd had a real hand in that.

In my previous life, I'd believed that too.

Right up until I was choking on poison gas and heard her laugh.

Vivian noticed I hadn't taken the water. Something flickered behind her eyes a split-second stiffness she almost managed to hide.

Then the mask of worry slid back into place.

"Quinn, the comment section is already filling up with reports. We built this business on our reputation. That's everything."

Reputation is everything.

But in my previous life, caring too much about my reputation was exactly what got me killed.

I took a slow breath, looked past Vivian, and fixed my gaze on Selena's furious face.

I didn't cut the stream.

Instead, I grabbed the backup phone from its stand, brought the lens in close, and pointed it directly at Selena and at the pregnancy test sitting on my worktable.

"I'm not cutting the stream."

My voice was quiet, but it landed like a stone in the silence.

Vivian's lips twitched.

"Quinn, are you out of your mind?!"

"I'm not the one who's lost their mind."

I steadied the camera and looked directly into the lens.

"Selena. Since you've decided I've been involved with Ethan, let's settle this properly."

"You're saying I'm carrying Ethan's child. That I've been taking his money."

"Fine. Then call Ethan. Right now."

"In front of everyone watching I want to ask him myself where this child came from."

The entire studio went dead silent.

The comment feed stuttered for a moment then exploded at ten times the speed it had before.

"She's fighting back?! The owner is actually fighting back?!"

"The nerve on this woman absolute ice."

"Still denying it even with a pregnancy test in her face. Classic."

"Waiting for the guy to show up. Three-way confrontation. This tea is piping hot."

Selena clearly hadn't expected this.

In her version of events, I was supposed to collapse in tears. Beg for forgiveness. Run.

She ground her teeth and locked eyes with me.

"Quinn, you never know when to quit."

"You think Ethan's going to protect you? He figured out what you are a long time ago."

She pulled out her phone, jabbing at the screen with hard, furious taps.

"I'm calling him right now. Let him tell everyone exactly who you really are."

The call connected.

Ring. Ring.

Every tone tightened the nerves of the millions watching.

Vivian suddenly stepped forward, putting herself between me and Selena.

Her eyes glistened. Her voice broke with what sounded like genuine distress.

"Selena, please don't do this to Quinn!"

"Quinn is a victim too! Ethan told her he was single the whole time. She had no idea you existed. We're all women here why push her this far?"

The moment those words hit the air, the comment section shifted.

"The best friend just admitted it!"

"Wait so she's basically confirming Quinn knew Ethan and had a relationship with him?"

"Knowing about the fiance or not doesn't matter. Taking the money is a fact. A home wrecker is a home wrecker."

"That best friend is something else pretending to defend her while stabbing her in the back."

I turned my head and looked at Vivian with cold, flat eyes.

"Vivian. When did I ever say I knew Ethan?"

Vivian's expression froze. Her gaze darted away.

"Quinn, this isn't the time to be difficult! Men will throw anyone under the bus to protect themselves. If you just admit he deceived you, that's way better than letting people think you went after him on purpose."

"So your advice is to admit to something I never did, just to 'cut my losses'?"

I stepped closer to her, my gaze sharp as a blade.

"Vivian, are you my operations director, or are you working for Selena?"

Vivian's foot started tapping frantically. Tears streamed down her face.

"Quinn, how could you think that about me? I've been grinding through this with you since we were in a basement. I'm trying to save you!"

Save me.

That was the same line she'd used in my previous life every time she steered me one step deeper into the trap.

Every time she made me bow my head. Every time she made me stay quiet. All of it had led to a place I couldn't come back from.

Click.

The call went through.

Through the speaker came a low, slightly raspy male voice.

"Hey, what's going on?"

Selena grabbed onto it like a lifeline. Tears spilled down her face.

"Ethan! I'm at Quinn's studio! Tell everyone didn't she deceive you? Isn't she the one who took your money and tried to trap you with a pregnancy?"

A few seconds of silence on the other end.

Then the voice let out a slow sigh.

"Quinn, let it go."

"Just give Selena back whatever needs to be returned. You and I... this is where it ends. I don't want to hurt anyone."

The comment section detonated.

"Ethan just confirmed it! What else is there to explain?"

"Trash man, trash woman perfect match."

"He's calling her by her nickname and she wants us to believe nothing happened?"

"Quinn get out of the restoration industry. Give back the money!"

Selena let out a cold, triumphant laugh and held the phone up in front of me.

"You heard him. Quinn what do you have to say now?"

I stared at that phone. Listened to the voice coming through it that voice with just a faint trace of static and I smiled.

Not bitterness. Not performance.

The thrill of finally getting your hands on what you've been chasing.

In my previous life, that voice had been the last straw that broke me.

Now, it was the first card in my winning hand.

"Ethan, right?"

I leaned toward the mic, my voice perfectly steady.

"You say you don't want to hurt anyone. So why won't you turn on video? Why won't you show your face?"

Silence.

"You're saying you know me. That we had something. Fine let me ask you a few questions."

I picked up a tool from the worktable.

"Last month, you said your favorite piece I'd ever restored was an emerald necklace. So tell me what technique did I use on the pendant?"

Faint breathing on the other end.

Selena jumped in to defend him. "Ethan's a mess right now. Who memorizes the craftsmanship on some necklace?"

I ignored her and kept my eyes on the phone.

"Okay. Too technical. Can't remember. Let me make it easier."

"If you've visited my studio as often as you claim tell me what's displayed in the entryway, right when you walk in. What antique. What design."

The seconds ticked by.

Millions of viewers held their breath.

Vivian quietly edged back half a step, her hand slipping into her jacket pocket.

Ten seconds.

Twenty seconds.

The "Ethan" on the other end finally cleared his throat.

"I've got a stomach thing. I'm at the hospital. I'm not doing this."

"Not doing this?"

I let out a short, cold laugh.

"A man who supposedly visited my studio constantly. Who was so close with me that I'm pregnant with his child. And he doesn't even know what my front door looks like?"

"Ethan is it really that your stomach hurts? Or is it that you have never once set foot in this place?"

Something shifted in the comment section a hesitation, a crack.

"Okay but that's kind of a good point. Why can't he answer anything?"

"If you're such a regular, how do you not know the layout?"

"What if the fiance staged this whole thing to sabotage her?"

"Hold on, let this play out. This is getting strange."

Selena's expression flickered, but she recovered fast.

"Quinn, stop trying to change the subject! Failing a couple of trivia questions doesn't prove anything. The bank transfers are real and they're on paper!"

She pulled a stack of printed bank statements from her bag and slapped them on the table.

"Everyone look! Over the past six months, Ethan transferred five hundred thousand dollars to this woman. Every single note says 'Quinn studio rent' or 'Quinn materials'!"

The camera zoomed in on the papers.

Black text on white.

Recipient: Quinn.

Account ending in: 8892.

Vivian sucked in a sharp breath beside me, covering her mouth.

"Quinn... you actually received all of this? You told me every transaction in the studio was legitimate restoration fees."

That line landed exactly where she aimed it neat and precise, cementing the image of me pocketing a small fortune.

I looked at those bank records and let out a quiet, internal laugh.

In my previous life, this had knocked me flat. Because the account ending in 8892 was genuinely opened under my name.

But I had never once seen that card.

I turned and walked to the safe, entered the code, and pulled out a thick stack of ledgers and a USB drive.

"Selena, you're saying Ethan transferred me five hundred thousand dollars."

I plugged the drive into the computer and threw the studio's official account records directly onto the livestream screen.

"This is every single transaction that has passed through Restored by Quinn since we opened. Every deposit has a corresponding restoration contract, invoice, and client signature."

"You're welcome to hire any auditing firm you want. Go through every line. Find one cent that came from Ethan."

Selena's lip curled. "Of course he wouldn't use the business account. He sent it to your personal account. Ending in 8892."

"Is that so?"

I held up my ID in front of the camera.

"I have two bank accounts. One ending in 3341. One ending in 0927."

"If you don't believe me, I'll log into mobile banking right now. Or we can call the police and let them verify whether I have any account ending in 8892."

Selena faltered.

Something behind her eyes went uncertain as she looked at my steady expression.

"That's impossible. I exported that from Ethan's phone myself. Your name is right there on the transfer."

"Names can match. You can even open accounts with fake ID."

I held her gaze, word by word.

"Selena, you've been deceived."

"Someone used my name, created a fraudulent account, and took your money."

"You're lying!" Selena's voice shot up. "Ethan loves me. He would never do that."

"Whether he loves you or not isn't my business. But I can tell you whoever that 'Ethan' is on the phone, he is not the man you think he is."

I turned and looked at Vivian, who had been quietly pressing herself into the corner.

"Vivian. What do you think?"

Vivian flinched, her eyes darting sideways.

"Why are you asking me? I don't I don't know anything about this."

"You're the operations director. Every client file, every identity verification it all passes through you. If someone used my name to open a fake account, you'd be the first person to know."

I kept closing the distance.

"Last month, you told me the platform needed an annual compliance review took my original ID and a copy of the business license, and disappeared for an entire day. Where did you actually go?"

Vivian went white.

"I was turning in documents to the platform! You don't get to accuse me of things! Selena is the one questioning you stop dragging me into this!"

A few longtime viewers who had been watching quietly started weighing in.

"Attorney Marcus: Platform compliance reviews are fully online. There's no reason to take original documents anywhere in person. Quinn, I strongly recommend calling the police. This looks like identity theft and fraud."

Attorney Marcus was a regular in my stream a well-known criminal defense lawyer.

His words hit the room like a grenade.

"WAIT. Plot twist?!"

"Best friend steals identity, opens fake account, scams the top donor?! No screenwriter would dare write this."

"If this is real, that best friend is genuinely evil."

Selena looked between me and Vivian, visibly losing the thread.

"Quinn, stop performing! You think one little excuse wipes the slate clean?"

"If it's just an excuse, it's easy enough to test."

I picked up my phone and opened SnapChat.

"Selena the number you just called. It's linked to Ethan's PayPal, right?"

Selena watched me with guarded eyes. "What are you doing?"

"That account ending in 8892 is in 'Ethan's' hands. So right now, in front of millions of people send one cent to that account."

The corner of my mouth lifted into something cold and sharp.

"Put in the note: 'Ethan I'm watching the stream. Come find me.'"

"Whoever's phone goes off that's your 'Ethan.'"