Chapter 1Stolen Identity Sweet Revenge

My roommate catfished Zach Cole by pretending to be me.

When he finally figured it out, she cornered me in our room, sobbing and begging me not to expose her. She claimed her family was in a financial crisis due to her grandmother’s terminal illness, and that she had only lied to Zach to accept his massive bank transfers—money she could never afford to pay back.

In my past life, I let my pity get the better of me. I went along with the lie, stepped into her shoes, and forced myself to be with Zach.

But years later, long after Janelle Miller had married a wealthy older man, Zach lost his mind. He turned his resentment on me, torturing me emotionally in our quiet home.

“Did you honestly think I loved your face?” he had screamed, his eyes wild with regret. “Your looks are nothing compared to Janelle’s soul. Give her back to me!”

Now, time has rewound to our senior year of college.

Zach corners me at the bottom of the dorm steps. He waves his phone, displaying our supposed intimate chat history, and leans in close with a smug, familiar smirk. "Hey, baby. Why are you acting like you don't know me?"

I look at him with cold, dead eyes.

"Get the fuck away from me."

* * *

Zach’s expression shifted instantly into something amused and mocking.

He looked down at the photo on his screen, his eyes moving back and forth to compare it to my face. "Interesting," he murmured, a slow grin spreading across his lips. "One second you’re calling me your husband, and the next you’re telling me to screw off. Isn't that a bit harsh, Ro?"

His dark eyes gleamed with a practiced, flirtatious warmth. The casual, intimate cadence of his voice was loud enough to make several passing students turn their heads to look at us.

I kept my face entirely blank. "You have the wrong person. Move."

Zach let out a sharp, disbelief-filled laugh. But he quickly softened his tone, taking a half-step closer. "Look, baby, I’m sorry. I know you said you weren't ready to meet in person yet. But I love you too much to keep waiting. I couldn't help myself."

He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone again. "Don't be mad. Let me transfer you five thousand dollars right now. Go buy yourself something nice, and let me take you out to a proper dinner. How does that sound?"

Having lived through the years of his cold indifference and eventual cruelty, seeing him act like a desperate, lovesick puppy was almost comical.

"Do you even know my name?" I asked.

Zach’s thumb hovered over his screen, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. "Rowan?"

I let out a cold, humorless laugh. "Did you bother looking at the name on the bank transfers? Because it isn't mine."

Zach reached out, intending to pat my head, but I stepped back, letting his hand hang awkwardly in the air. His fingers curled slowly into a fist before he forced his smile back. "Stop playing, Rowan. You’re the one who told me you were using your parents' joint account and didn't want them seeing the transactions, so you had me wire the money to your roommate's account instead."

I stared at him, exhausted by his density. "You’ve been talking to this girl for months. Did you ever once FaceTime her?"

Zach hesitated, then slowly shook his head.

"So you’ve never actually seen her face, and yet based on a few photos, you assumed the girl behind the screen was me," I said, my voice cutting through the humid afternoon air. "You wired her over a hundred thousand dollars without a second thought. Did they skip basic internet safety during your freshman orientation? You’re the victim of a textbook romance scam. I suggest you call the police."

Zach still couldn't wrap his head around it.

Convinced I was simply throwing a tantrum because he had showed up unannounced, his expression turned pleading. "Baby, please stop. We have something real. Meeting in person was always the end goal. Besides..." He lowered his voice, a hint of entitlement creeping in. "You sent me those private photos. I couldn't just sit around anymore. But I swear, I won't touch you until you say it's okay."

My chest tightened, a cold chill running down my spine. "What photos?"

Zach turned his phone toward me. On the screen was a photo of a woman’s silhouette, taken through a frosted glass shower door while she was changing. It was unmistakably my back.

"Come on, that’s clearly you," Zach said, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Who else could have taken something that private? Stop teasing me."

I didn't answer him. Instead, I swiped his screen upward to look at the chat log.

Janelle had sent the photo under my name, adding a pouty emoji: [Babe, finding an internship is exhausting. Look how much weight I've lost.]

Zach’s reply had been nearly instantaneous, followed by a transaction confirmation for twenty thousand dollars: [I can take care of you, baby. My dad just bought me a townhouse downtown with a pool. Why don't we just move in together?]

Janelle’s response: [Oh, I know exactly what you boys are after! I’m not ready yet. Let’s wait until graduation.]

I let out a quiet, bitter laugh.

In my past life, I had never actually looked at their chat history. I had always assumed Janelle took public photos from my social media accounts to fool him. I never realized she had been secretly photographing me in our shared space.

Without another word, I took out my own phone, snapped a photo of Zach's screen, and drafted an email to the Dean of Students.

Dean Avery, a student has taken non-consensual, private photos of me in my dormitory and distributed them to third parties. I am requesting an immediate investigation. If the university cannot handle this, I will be contacting the police.