Chapter 1

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?"