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Then I go downstairs and walk out the front door, into the rest of my life.

6

Abby

SK Compound, Myanmar (Burma)

Three months later

“Wake up, Abby.”

Lucky, the Thai girl who dealt drugs with Nico long ago, back on Ko Pha Ngan, shakes me gently. “If we’re late they’ll make us run again.”

I blearily swing my legs over the side of the bunk, rubbing my eyes. She gives me a sympathetic glance. “Bad dreams again?”

I nod.

“Don’t worry.” She gives me an understanding smile. “The nightmares fade after a while, I promise.”

Lucky should know. She’s been held captive here at Shway Kyaarpaann—or SK, as we all call the Myanmar scam farm—since she disappeared seven years ago, back when Nico and I knew her.

I shake my head, struggling to return her smile as we headto the communal bathroom. “I don’t know how you do it, Lucky. How you’re still so kind after so long in this place.”

She lifts a shoulder, her sloping eyes glowing with a warmth I can only admire. “I am Thai, Abby. We are Buddhists. And Buddhists live by the four noble truths, all of which acknowledge the truth of suffering.” She touches my arm gently. “I can choose to hate this place and suffer or find joy in the small things. And today”—she turns the shower on and grins at me—“we have hot water for our shower. This is definitely a joy.”

Her smile is infectious enough to cut through the cobwebs of sleep and the hopeless despondency of waking to another day in this place. It buoys me into my brief shower and lasts through breakfast.

It fades as soon as I enter the huge open-plan office, sit down at my desk, and put my headset on. I’m messaging a girl called Rachel, who I met on a dating site a month ago.

Well,Ididn’t meet her.

Matthew James, one of my many aliases, met her. Matthew, according to his fake social media profile, is a day trader who lives in New York. It’s important that he lives a safe thousand miles from Rachel’s home in Topeka, Kansas, or else he’d have to actually meet her.

Rachel is a single forty-five-year-old teacher who owns her own home, has a modest salary, and has tucked away a small amount of savings.

Or rather, shehada small amount of savings, until Matthew recently convinced her to invest them in crypto.

Rachel thinks she has doubled her money. She’s very excited and keen to invest more.

Which is good, since Matthew is currently encouraging her to take out a second mortgage on her home to do exactly that. He’s also been promising that they will meet soon, inNew York. He’s going to fly her there and take her out on a very expensive date.

Except the date will never happen. And when Rachel tries to withdraw her supposed investment, she will discover that her account never existed—and neither did Matthew.

I glance around warily to ensure none of the armed supervisors are watching.Please,I type into our private chat,do your due diligence, Rachel. Make sure you are very comfortable with this investment.

“You!” One of the meaner supervisors, a ferret-faced man with broken teeth, cuffs my head hard enough to knock me sideways on my chair and glares at my screen. “You giving warnings to client.” His Chinese accent might be thick, but unfortunately, he reads English all too well.

“I’m asking her to re-mortgage her house.” I speak calmly, meeting his eyes. “This is how I gain her trust. It’s in the script.” I wave a sheaf of paper at him, and he sniffs contemptuously, pressing the muzzle of his automatic rifle into my shoulder hard enough to leave yet another bruise. “I watch you,” he snaps warningly before he turns away.

Of course you will. You’realways watching.

I swallow my anger and lower my head, staring blankly at the script in my hand.

I wasn’t lying. While we have a lot of creative license in how we scam our unsuspecting victims, the script also gives us specific lines to gain their trust. Inviting people to do their due diligence is one of those ways.

People never do, of course.

Particularly lonely women who are being love-bombed day and night by the handsome, fictional Matthew James and his fake billionaire lifestyle.