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SCAMS

SCAMS They arrive in your messages at 2 a.m. A photo that isn’t theirs. A name that was stolen from a dead soldier, or a widowed teacher in another country. They say they saw your face and felt something shift inside their chest. You believe them because you are tired of being alone. First week they listen. They remember your dog’s name, the way your mother pronounced your childhood nickname. They send good-morning voice notes with perfect accents that were bought for twelve dollars on a freelance site. They never ask for money yet. They are patient gardeners. They water the hope first. ===================== Then the story arrives. A contract in Dubai. A sick daughter in London. A bag of cash blocked at customs. A cryptocurrency wallet that needs “a small bridge loan” to unlock millions. ===================== An inheritance from an uncle you never had, held by a lawyer who only communicates through this new love. They cry on the phone. You hear the tears. You send the first two hundred euros because love should not have to wait behind customs forms. The amounts grow. Five hundred becomes two thousand becomes eight. They teach you to open new bank accounts, to lie to your family, to take out credit lines you cannot repay. They call you “my wife,” “my king,” “my everything,” while they forward your bank codes to someone else in another city. When the money stops, the account disappears. The profile is deleted. The phone number is dead. You are left with the screenshots of hearts and promises, and a bank statement that looks like a crime scene. ===================== Some people lose twenty thousand. Some lose two hundred thousand. Some lose the house they grew up in. Some lose the will to wake up. There are hospital beds filled with hearts that believed too hard. There are graves that began as a direct message. ===================== They do not lose sleep. They open a new account with a new face. Another widow, another soldier, another lonely heart scrolling late. The machine never stops. The photos are recycled. The love words are copy-paste. The tears are optional sound effects. You feel stupid. You feel ashamed. You hide from your children. You stop answering the phone. The shame is part of their method. Silence protects them more than any firewall. They never learn the names they kill. They never see the coffins. This is not romance gone wrong. This is hunting. They study loneliness the way generals study maps. They know exactly which wound to press. They do not see humans. They see balances. They see withdrawal limits. They see a pulse they can stop once the transfer is complete. If you hear this, and you are bleeding money into a stranger’s promise, close the chat. Block the number. Call someone who can look you in the eyes. There is no shame in being kind. The shame belongs to the ones who sold your kindness for rent money. You are not stupid. You are human. And humans were built to trust. They simply found the bug in the code and exploited it for profit. Close the tab. Breathe. Breathe. ===================== You are still here. ===================== That is already the first victory. That’s already the win.