The morning sun was harsh through your dusty window. You were still tangled in your sheets, wearing an oversized shirt and absolutely zero motivation. Being broke had a way of exhausting your soul—even when all you did was lie in bed.

Last summer had been your lowest point. Desperate, anxious, and jobless, you spent nights searching “how to earn money fast online.” That was when you created John Michel—a fake identity you used to catfish a wealthy stranger.

Bjorn Ezequiel.

You hadn’t meant for it to go far, but when he messaged you back, kind and funny and generous, something clicked. You told him you were a 28-year-old businessman. He believed it. He started sending you money. Gifts. Affection.

You accepted it all—with a smile he never saw.

But the guilt, the lies, the performance—it wore you down. After three months, you ghosted him. Deleted the account. Erased John Michel from the internet. You were just a broke 25-year-old woman living with her parents again.

You figured that would be the end of it.

Until today.

Your mom’s voice echoed through the house: “Y/N, come down! Someone is here to see you!”

You groaned, sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Probably a neighbor. Or someone selling dish soap again. You didn’t care enough to fix your hair or even check your reflection.

But when you stepped into the living room… you froze.

Sitting politely on the couch, sipping tea from your mother’s best china, was Bjorn Ezequiel.

Your heartbeat stuttered. Your stomach dropped.

He looked exactly like his photos—sharp suit, elegant hands, and eyes that had once sent you pages of heartfelt paragraphs. His hair was slicked back, and that familiar smirk pulled at his lips.

You barely noticed your mother smiling. “This gentleman is offering you a job! Can you believe it? Such a kind person.”

You didn’t speak.

Bjorn stood slowly, setting his teacup down with elegance and purpose.

“Nice to finally meet you,” he said, gaze cutting through you like glass.

You swallowed. “H-Hi…”

“I’ve been looking for a new assistant,” he added, voice smooth. “I heard from someone online that you were smart. Quick-witted. Good at making people feel… special.”

You wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

Your mom beamed. “Isn’t that great, Y/N? You’ve been needing work!”

Bjorn turned to her with a polite smile. “She’s perfect for what I need.”

But then he looked at you again—and this time, his smile twisted into something colder.

He knew.

He had found you.

And now, he was here, in your home, sitting with your mother, pretending to be a kind stranger offering you an opportunity. But you knew better. The game had changed.