THE FACE SHE STOLE

CHAPTER THREE– THE SCAM REVEALED

“Who are you? And why are you standing in my room?” I demanded, my voice firmer than I felt. My heart thudded in my chest, but I refused to show fear.

The woman turned slowly to face me. Calm, composed, and utterly confident. “I should be asking you that,” she said, her tone almost amused. “Who are you, and how did you get access to my apartment? My boyfriend bought this place for me last year. Are you… his side chick?”

Disgust shot through me. My stomach twisted. “Side chick? I don’t even know your boyfriend! I’m nobody’s side chick!” I raised my voice, taking a small step toward her. “I bought this apartment online, before I even arrived in New York. And it’s mine!”

The woman crossed her arms, eyebrow arched. A faint smirk played on her lips. “Mine. It is mine. And I’m calling the police on you, not leaving because you’re trespassing in my house.”

I blinked, stunned. “I… what? I’m calling the person I bought it from.” My hands trembled as I pulled out my phone and dialed the number from the listing.

It rang. And rang. And then… “The number you’ve dialed does not exist.”

My eyes widened in shock. I tried again. Same response. My throat went dry. “No… no… no. This can’t be… this is my house…”

The woman sighed, a note of pity creeping into her voice. “I’m afraid you’ve been scammed. Completely.” She walked over to a small pile of papers on the counter and handed them to me. “My boyfriend bought this apartment for me last year, for my birthday. I hadn’t moved in yet because we were traveling, but we just returned. Here, see for yourself.”

I stared at the stack — deeds, receipts, legal documents with her name clearly on them. My hands shook as I leafed through them, my stomach sinking lower with each page. My vision blurred.

“I… I…” Words failed me. Hopelessness wrapped around me like a heavy blanket. I wanted to scream, to cry, to throw the papers across the room. Instead, I sank onto the edge of the bed, feeling utterly small and foolish.

“Listen,” the woman said softly, almost gently now," I understand this is a shock. I live with my boyfriend anyways so you can stay here for a week since i have no use for it yet while you find another place. ”

I nodded, still in a daze, unable to speak. My fingers grazed the edge of the bed, gripping the sheets tightly. I wanted to disappear.

She turned toward the door, giving me a final glance. “Figure it out. And… try not to get into trouble.” Then she left, closing the door behind her. The click echoed in the silent apartment like a verdict.

I sat there for a long moment, staring at the empty space she’d left behind. My mind spun. How could this have happened? I had saved and planned, thought I had control, and yet… everything I believed in crumbled in an instant.

Then my phone vibrated in my hand. I quickly wiped the tears I hadn’t realized were falling, smoothed my hair, and answered.

“Hi, Mom,” I said, forcing my voice to sound cheerful. “I’m fine. Just tired from work.”

“Oh, honey, are you settling in okay? Did you find your place?” her voice was warm, caring, and I wanted to tell her everything — but I couldn’t.

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. Just… exhausted,” I murmured, keeping my tone light. I couldn’t let her worry, not while I was still processing this nightmare.

After the call, I sank back on the bed, letting the weight of it all press down on me. A week. That was all I had. I had to find another apartment, another safe space, another corner of New York where I could breathe without fear.

The next morning, I woke late. Late. My alarm was ignored, my body heavy from staying up working on the sketches my team leader assigned. Panic clawed at me as I rushed to get ready.

At Blackwell Industries, I creeped towards my desk, trying not to draw attention when one of the assistants emerged from Ethan’s office.

“Amelia?” she said, spotting me. My heart skipped a bit. I had been caught. s**t!

"Yes" I answered , startled

"You have to go to Mr Blackwell office, now!" she said, almost commanding.

“Uh… what?Me? Why?” My pulse spiked.

“You’ll see when you enter. Just go,” she shrugged and left, leaving me standing there, completely bewildered.

My stomach sank. Have I been caught slacking? or maybe someone had reported my lateness. I braced myself, trying to steady my racing heart.

I took a deep breath, dropped my bag on my desk, and made my way to Ethan’s office. The door was closed. I knocked lightly, then entered.

Ethan was already standing, his expression unreadable. Before he spoke, instinct took over — I stepped closer, almost on reflex, and knelt slightly in a half-desperate, half-bold move, gripping his leg. “Please… don’t fire me. I won’t come late again, I swear.”

I looked up, expecting a reprimand, but instead, I froze. His expression — usually so composed — faltered. Surprise flickered across his features as he stared at me. I felt heat rush to my face and I quickly released his leg, stepped back, and whispered an apology.

Before he could respond, an employee knocked lightly and entered, looking at me and handing Ethan a file. “Sir, the monthly report.”

Ethan barely glanced at him. “Drop the file and take your leave,” he said sharply, then returned his full attention to me.

“So,” he began, slow and deliberate, clearing his throat ,the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth, “you came late today. Should I fire you?”

I swallowed hard, my cheeks warming. “I… I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” I stammered.

He leaned back slightly, his gaze unwavering. “Hmmm… what’s your name? And where are you from?”

“Amelia Rivera… from Wemabod,” I answered softly, still tense.

He repeated my name, almost savoring it, then asked, “Are you happy to work here?”

“Yes,” I said quickly, then hesitated. “Why… why did you call me?”

He tilted his head slightly, lips curving in amusement. “I didn’t call you directly. I asked my assistant to pick someone from the new team for a task, and she chose you. Lucky, or unlucky, depending on how you see it.”

Relief washed over me. “Oh… what task is it?” I asked, trying to hide the tension in my voice.

Ethan reached for a pen and a piece of paper on his desk and extended it toward me. I stepped forward, but my leg wobbled suddenly — my nerves, exhaustion, and embarrassment all colliding. I felt myself tipping forward, and before I could brace, his hands were there. His arms wrapped around my waist,my hands pressing me lightly against his chest.

My heart slammed in my chest. His touch was cold and firm, precise, yet heavier than I expected. I froze, embarrassment flooding me. We stared at each other, his sharp, controlled eyes meeting my wide, flustered ones.

“Do you really like touching me so much?” he asked, his voice low, teasing, making reference to my earlier bold move.

My stomach twisted, and I bit my lip. Words failed me. I could barely breathe, caught between shock, shame, and an odd, dizzying awareness of the space we shared.

I felt his gaze drill into mine, amused, questioning, almost as if he were testing me. I cleared my throat, trying to step back, and immediately my feet found solid ground again. My hands dropped to my sides, and I muttered, “I… I’m sorry.”

Ethan’s smirk deepened, but he didn’t let go of the subtle tension between us. Instead, he handed me the paper. “Pick this up, Amelia. Carefully,” he said, voice teasing but commanding.

I took it, my fingers trembling slightly. My heart was still racing, and a part of me couldn’t believe what had just happened. A part of me wanted to melt into the floor, another part… felt an inexplicable thrill.