Theater: NovelMaster | Language: English | NEW
Synopsis
I supported my boyfriend for three whole years, buying him designer clothes and driving luxury sports cars.
He told me he had to go out of town to close a massive business deal, promising he’d marry me the moment he got back.
Then, by pure accident, I opened the chat app he forgot to log out of on my laptop. His group chat with his buddies was on full display:
"That stupid rich girl is completely under my thumb. I just took out a seventy-thousand-dollar loan under her name. Catching a flight to vanish tonight."
Seeing the messages, I didn’t panic. I calmly scrolled through my contacts, found my dad’s number, and dialed.
"Dad, someone just took out a seventy-thousand-dollar fraudulent loan using my identity."
Two seconds of dead silence on the line. Then my dad said, "Understood."
Three minutes later, a text popped up from him:
"All his bank accounts are frozen. His credit cards are shut down. That one-way ticket to Bangkok he booked online has just been voided."
"I’m heading over to your place right now. Be careful."
Before I could type back, the front door clicked open. Logan was back.
He walked into the room, stopping right in front of me.
"Who were you just on the phone with?"
I froze for a split second, then turned around and gave him a sweet smile.
"Just calling my dad. He wants me to come home this weekend."
The suspicion on his face vanished in an instant. He walked over and slung an arm around my shoulders.
"Perfect timing. As soon as I close this deal, I’m going straight to your parents' place to officially ask for your hand."
A cold laugh echoed in my head. Three years. This man had worn this exact charming mask to deceive me for three whole years.
His acting was flawless—so good that I had genuinely believed him until five minutes ago.
I tilted my head, looking up at him with just the right amount of reluctance in my voice:
"Why is this business trip so sudden? What kind of deal is it anyway?"
He slipped his arm from my shoulders, turning around to gather some scattered documents on the desk. His tone was casual:
"A friend hooked me up with a huge project. Once I cash in on this, I’ll finally have enough money to marry you."
Marry me?
Taking out a seventy-grand loan in my name and fleeing the country—that’s your idea of marrying me?
I said nothing. Watching his busy silhouette, a wave of nausea rose in my throat.
Suddenly, he turned back to me with that familiar look of pure entitlement.
"Oh, by the way, can you wire me another fifteen thousand? I’m still a little short on cash for the upfront fee."
I blinked. Not because he was asking for money, but because he actually had the audacity to push for more right now.
"Things are a little tight for me recently. I can’t transfer anything this time."
I kept my voice as steady as humanly possible.
His brow furrowed slightly before smoothing out again. He peered at me, probing:
"What’s wrong? You used to just wire it right away. Did something happen?"
Used to?
I used to be an idiot.
Three years ago, I met Logan at a mutual friend’s party and fell head-over-heels for that face of his.
A sharp jawline, deep, bedroom eyes.
I was young and naive, believing that good looks were everything. I was the one who pursued him, and I was the one who offered to cover his expenses.
The moment he found out my family was wealthy, he quit his nine-to-five without a second thought and moved straight into my luxury penthouse.
I bought him bespoke suits, limited-edition sneakers, and even replaced his beat-up sedan with a six-figure sports car.
Three years. For three whole years, I spoiled him rotten, truly believing he loved me.
And in return?
He stole my identity to take out a seventy-thousand-dollar loan and planned to ditch the country tonight.
"Yeah, my family's business hit a bit of a rough patch. Mom’s side is running into some financial issues," I bluffed.
His expression flickered visibly. The corner of his mouth twitched, as if he was struggling to swallow a surge of anger.
"No worries, babe. I’ll figure something else out. Once I hit it big, I’ll be the one taking care of you."
With that, he turned toward the bedroom to pack. I followed, leaning casually against the doorframe, watching him.
He grabbed clothes from the closet, tossing them into his suitcase with hurried, frantic motions.
Suddenly, his hand paused. He picked up a small silver object, gave it a dismissive glance, and tossed it straight into the trash can.
It was the custom engraved lighter I bought him last month, personalized with his initials.
"Didn't I buy you that?" I asked quietly. "Why are you throwing it away?"He froze. His spine went rigid as a board.
After two agonizing seconds, he abruptly bent down and fished the lighter out of the trash, his movements flustered.
"My hand slipped! Total accident! How could I ever throw away something you got me?"
He turned around with an oily smile, carefully tucking the lighter into a side pocket of his luggage.
I said nothing, quietly watching the show.
At that exact moment, the veil completely dropped.
He had never cared about me. Not about the gifts, not about my feelings—all he ever cared about was my bank account.
Whenever I wired him money, he looked like a devoted prince. The second the cash dried up, his true, resentful colors showed.
"Keep packing. I’ll go see what we can order for dinner," I said, turning away from the bedroom.
He let out an audible sigh of relief, and the harsh sound of his suitcase zipper echoed behind me.
I walked into the home office and sat back down in front of my laptop.
His SnapChat was still logged in, the group chat open on the screen.
I pulled out my phone and took screenshots of every single message, scrolling from bottom to top. The more I read, the colder my blood ran.
They weren't just discussing the fraudulent loan—they were openly laughing at what a gullible sucker I was.
"Bro, that chick's money is so damn easy to squeeze. Whisper a few sweet nothings and she wires thousands."
"You're living the dream, man. Free penthouse, endless cash, and you get to sleep with a rich girl."
"By the time she realizes the loan is under her name, I’ll already be in Thailand living like a king, lmao."
I screenshotted every single line.
Scrolling through his recent chats, I noticed another contact pinned to the top. The display name read: "My Baby".
I clicked it. It was a chat thread with a girl that spanned over two years.
Their messages were nauseatingly intimate. Morning texts, goodnight texts, virtual kisses and hugs—almost identical to the lines he fed me every day.
Her name was Victoria. Judging from the chat history, they had met at a downtown bar, and he had convinced her he was a struggling entrepreneur.
He had even told Victoria the exact same lie: "Once I close this big deal, I’m coming back to marry you."
I scrolled down and found several PayPal transfers he’d sent her. Small amounts—a few hundred here, a thousand there.
The most sickening part? Every transfer memo read: "A little gift for my future wife."
Funded entirely by my money.
I screenshotted every transaction and saved them to my phone.
My phone vibrated in my palm. A text from my dad:
"I’m downstairs."
My heart thumped hard against my ribs. I got up immediately, heading for the front door.
Just as I reached the foyer, the bedroom door opened.
Logan stepped out, pulling his carry-on behind him. Seeing me standing near the door, a flicker of panic flashed across his eyes.
"Babe, where are you going?"
He hurried over and grabbed my wrist.
"I’m leaving in an hour. Aren't you going to spend my last few minutes with me?"
When he said that, his eyes were dripping with tenderness.
I sneered inwardly. Still acting right up until the grand escape. Truly dedicated.
"Just opening the door to let some air in. It feels stuffy," I said, trying to pull my wrist back.
He held on tight.
"Don't open the door. Come sit with me on the couch."
He tugged me toward the living room.
I yanked my arm back with force.
The sudden movement jostled his jacket pocket. A small square packet slipped out, bouncing on the floor and sliding to a stop.
An unopened condom.The apartment went dead silent.
I stared at the bright wrapper on the hardwood floor, feeling the blood drain from my face.
For three years, he had played the role of a conservative gentleman, claiming he wanted to save himself and respect me until our wedding night.
I had actually respected him for that.
And now?
He had condoms ready to go in his pocket?
"That's not mine!" Logan blurted out, his face turning ghostly pale.
"I swear it's not mine! A buddy must've shoved it in my coat at the bar the other night and I forgot to throw it out!"
His voice was trembling, beads of sweat breaking out across his forehead.
I had never seen him this terrified before.
"I didn't say it was yours," I said, tilting my head with a cold smile. "Why are you so defensive?"
"I'm not defensive! I just don't want you getting the wrong idea!"
He bent down, snatching the wrapper off the floor, gripping it so hard his knuckles turned white.
"Relax. I believe you," I said, turning back to the front door.
He visibly exhaled.
I swung the door wide open. My dad was standing right there.
He was wearing a tailored black overcoat, tall and imposing.
Flanking him were two men in dark suits—uniformed state investigators.
"Mr... Mr. Vance? What are you doing here?"
Logan’s voice cracked. Every ounce of color evaporated from his face.
He whipped his head toward me, his eyes filled with sheer disbelief.
"Why didn't you tell me your dad was coming over?!"
I ignored him, stepping aside to welcome my dad in.
My dad’s cold, calculating gaze swept over Logan’s face.
"He's here to pick you up," I finally said.
Logan crushed the wrapper in his fist, the plastic crackling sharply in the silence.
"Pick me up? What are you talking about? I don't understand."
Logan forced an awkward chuckle, taking a hesitant step forward.
My dad didn't flinch.
The two investigators stepped forward in unison, blocking his path.
Logan froze in his tracks, his feet seemingly glued to the floor.
"Mr. Vance, what is the meaning of this?" He looked at me, eyes practically begging for help. "Babe, tell your dad! What is going on?"
I leaned back against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest.
Logan held out his hands in a posture of complete innocence.
"Is there some kind of misunderstanding here?"
"Misunderstanding?" My dad finally spoke.
Just one word, yet Logan’s shoulders visibly shrank.
"Logan, do I look like a man who jokes around?"
"Sir, did someone feed you some rumors about me?" Logan was still trying to scramble for an out, the fake smile slipping off his face. "My feelings for your daughter are real. I love her with all my heart."
A dry laugh escaped my lips.
Three years. I had heard those three words countless times.
He said them every time I wired him cash. He said them every time I bought him expensive gifts. He said them whenever he needed me to back down.
As if those three words were a magic key that unlocked my wallet.
"Your love?" I looked him dead in the eye. "Is your love stealing my personal identity to take out a seventy-thousand-dollar loan?"
Chapters (3)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Watch & Promotions
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