Chapter 3Captive Hearts: Catfishing the Kingpin's Son

When everyone was asleep, I pulled out a burner phone hidden inside my mattress.

I sent screenshots of all the chats and transfer records to a strange number.

The reply came quickly: "Are you injured?"

"No. I can go to the mall tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, 12:00 PM. By the flagpoles. White van."

"Okay."

I stared at the phone for a few seconds, then typed: "Can I bring the other girls?"

"Can you guarantee there are no moles for Victor among them?"

I couldn't. I didn't even dare talk to them for fear of my life.

"They will die."

"But this is your only chance to go home."

I stayed silent for a few seconds, deleted the screenshots, and hid the phone.

I stared at the ceiling.

Thinking of the word "Home," my heart skipped a beat.

I tried to trace the letters in the air, but my hand was shaking too much to write.

My fingers brushed against the tally marks scratched into the wall. I sighed.

The girls in my room had changed eight times already.

The current batch arrived a month ago, lured by high salaries for customer service or livestreaming jobs.

When they realized it was a scam factory, they protested, cried, and refused to work.

I knew their fate all too well.

Either you scam, or you end up in the Red Light District.

If you still don't listen, one needle in the arm turns you into a slave to your own addiction.

I was different. I was the biggest idiot.

I had a legitimate tech job after graduation. The company offered a "team building retreat" overseas as a reward for top performance.

Greedy for a free trip, I worked my ass off to be number one. I came, and I never left.

To stay alive, I used to close small deals—a few thousand here and there—just to meet the quota.

But last month, I overheard Victor and Shane.

Victor said my numbers were too low. He was planning to sell me to another syndicate.

I didn't want to die.

I just wanted to go home.