My Ex Scammed Me for $150K — He Didn’t Know He Also Stole From The Mafia
Part 1
Heartbreak completely empties your bank account.
I sat in a dimly lit Chicago lounge, trying to drown the reality of my ruined life.
I was overweight, entirely broke, and utterly alone.
Rain lashed against the tinted windows of the speakeasy, mirroring the relentless storm inside my chest.
I sat hunched over the polished mahogany bar.
My dark green wrap dress felt entirely too tight tonight.
For the past three months, food had been my only comfort, adding twenty pounds to my frame.
The soft curve of my stomach and the thick lines of my thighs were physical manifestations of my emotional armor.
I was trying to build a wall against a world that had chewed me up and spat me out.
I stared down into my glass of well whiskey.
I was twenty-eight years old, an auditor for a prestigious accounting firm.
Yet I had been stupid enough to let a man destroy my life.
Tyler Miller.
Just thinking his name made my chest tighten with a suffocating mix of rage and shame.
Tyler had been charming, handsome, and seemingly completely in love with me.
Once he had me under his spell, he convinced me to cosign a massive business loan.
He forged documents, drained my personal savings, and maxed out three of my credit cards.
Then he vanished into thin air.
Now I was staring down the barrel of a hundred and fifty thousand dollars in debt.
My life was a complete disaster.
I took another burning sip of the whiskey.
A rogue tear escaped my lashes and carved a track down my flushed cheek.
I swiped it away angrily with the back of my hand.
I had promised myself I wouldn’t cry tonight.
Hours slipped by, and my tab grew right alongside my numbness.
The thought of facing my empty apartment made me feel physically sick.
A tall, aggressively confident man slid into the empty stool beside me.
He leaned in entirely too close, his breath washing over my neck.
I stiffened, pulling my heavy coat tighter around my full figure.
His lip curled into a sneer as he looked me up and down, letting out a harsh, derisive snort.
“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart,” he slurred loudly enough for the bartender to hear.
Tyler’s voice echoed in my head, reminding me that no one else would ever want me.
He used to tell me nobody else would ever want me because I was too fat, too loud, too much.
I stared at the bar, my cheeks burning with humiliation.
The drunken man reached out, wrapping his hand forcefully around my wrist.
I pulled back, my voice shaking with fear.
Before the man could tighten his grip, a large, impeccably manicured hand clamped down onto his shoulder.
The grip was paralyzing, digging deep into the man’s collarbone with bone-crushing force.
A deep, chilling voice murmured from above.
The drunk man spun around, ready to throw a punch.
The words died in his throat the moment he looked up.
The sheer aura of danger radiating from the stranger was suffocating.
He wore a tailored suit and possessed an imposing height.
Two massive men in dark coats had silently materialized behind him.
The stranger didn’t have to raise his voice to convey exactly who he was.
The drunk stammered his excuses, his face draining of all color.
He stumbled backward, sprinting for the exit.
I sat frozen, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I stared at the terrifying, ridiculously handsome stranger who had just saved me.
He turned his attention to me.
The lethal coldness in his eyes melted instantly into something warm, dark, and possessive.
He slid into the stool the drunk had just vacated.
His voice softened as he asked if I was all right.
I stammered my thanks, pulling my wrist against my chest.
I felt wildly out of place next to him.
He looked like a billionaire, flawless and dangerous.
I was a heartbroken, overweight auditor with mascara running down my face.
He signaled the bartender, ordering an expensive scotch for me and some water.
He looked back at me, his gaze sweeping over my face.
He introduced himself as Dominic.
I whispered my name, mesmerized by the intensity of his stare.
He wasn’t looking at me the way men usually did, with pity or dismissal.
He was looking at me as if I were the only woman in the entire room.
He asked why a woman like me was drinking well whiskey and crying alone on a Tuesday night.
His eyes mapped the soft contours of my face.
The dam finally broke.
The floodgates opened, and every humiliating detail spilled out to this gorgeous stranger.
My dead-end job, the crushing debt, and my insecurities about my weight poured from my lips.
The story of the man who had destroyed me soon followed.
Quiet sobs shook my shoulders as the expensive scotch burned down my throat.
The confession of how Tyler had made me believe he loved me was the hardest part to say aloud.
He loved my body, my mind, but he just wanted my credit score.
Now he was gone, and I was drowning.
Dominic reached out his warm thumb, gently wiping a tear from my cheek.
The physical contact sent a jolt of electricity straight through my spine.
He asked me quietly for the man’s name.
I stared down at my lap, my chest hitching with a broken sob.
I wiped my tears and whispered his name, completely unaware that I had just handed a dead man over to the devil himself.
