Chapter 2

Stockton's smile stiffened for just a moment before bloming back into full warmth. "Of course! Samantha, did you hear that? Go ahead and thank Mr. Johnson!"

Samantha looked at me, hesitant, and said quietly, "Thank you, Mr. Johnson."

Chris curled her lip. "What's a trainee going to do? Whatever, as long as the money shows up I don't care who's there."

I left them with my new phone number.

Under their gredy, contemptuous stares, I walked out of that upscale matchmaking agency.

The sunlight outside was sharp.

I took out my phone and made a call.

"Wesley."

"Sir." My personal assistant Wesley picked up immediately.

"I need you to look into a matchmaking agency called Heavenly Match. Also two people — one named Chris, one named Samantha."

"And prepare two documents for me. One standard contract, and one deed of gift."

I hung up and turned the crumpled napkin over in my pocket.

The girl's handwriting still held a trace of warmth. In a city this cold, that tiny act of kindness felt like something rare.

I didn't know why she'd tried to help me. But I knew I wasn't going to let her get swallowed up by these wolves.

The next morning, Wesley's report landed in my inbox.

Efficient as always.

Heavenly Match was a front — a full-scale fraud operation.

They specifically targeted men with limited social circles but some savings, whose finances weren't easily tracked. Veterans. Programmers who'd spent years working away from home.

They fabricated the persona of a wealthy, beautiful woman and used every trick available to earn the target's trust, then bled them dry under the guise of marriage.

Chris was their star performer. Multiple prior offenses. Several victims had already lost everything.

But the section of the report about Samantha stopped me cold.

Samantha was a finance major and a top student — she'd held the national first-class scholarship for three consecutive years.

She was an orphan, raised at Sunshine Home, a children's care facility on the edge of the city.

She'd taken this part-time job to raise money for surgery for a younger boy at the orphanage who'd been born with a congenital heart defect.

She'd been tricked into working there.

Stockton had lured her in with promises of high pay, had her sign a contract, then confiscated her ID and student card to keep her trapped.

Worse — the photos gang used in their online profiles were all taken from Samantha's personal accounts. They used her fresh, wholesome image to reel in targets, then swapped her out for Chris once the hook was set.

The last page of the report included a photo: Samantha at the orphanage, holding a thin little boy, smiling the softest smile.

Sunlight fell across her. Clean. Untouched.

I closed the email. Something sat heavy in my chest.

She was already stuck in the mud herself, and she was still reaching out to pull someone else free.

My phone buzzed. A text from Samantha.

Mr. Johnson, please don't trust them. They're all scammers. Just go to the police — please don't have any more contact with them.

There was a crying emoji at the end.

I could imagine exactly how frightened she'd been when she sent that.

I replied: I know.

Then I called Wesley.

"Sir?"

"Get ready. Tomorrow, we close the net."