Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1:
To be completely honest, I never imagined that one day I would become a professional con artist.
Desperation is a dangerous thing. I still cannot recall where or how I picked up the habit, but one day I simply found myself creating a fake profile on Facebook under the name Madam Jema. Knowing that my actual face would not turn any heads online, I combed through the profile of a random Nigerian influencer and saved a handful of her photographs.
She wasn't overwhelmingly stunning—just an ordinary girl with a charming chocolate complexion, a sweet smile, and a decent build. But compared to my reflection, she was a masterpiece. My real face was nothing to brag about, which was precisely why I resorted to cat fishing.
Before long, my posts began attracting attention. In particular, a user named Khalid became a permanent fixture in my notifications, liking and commenting on almost everything I uploaded.
Curiosity eventually got the better of me, and I clicked on his profile. To my disappointment, it was completely bare. His profile picture was merely an image of a white dove, and only his masculine name gave away the fact that he was a man.
Soon enough, he migrated from my comment section straight into my Messenger inbox. Since I rarely stayed online for long, we eventually exchanged phone numbers.
Based on my fabricated online persona, Khalid genuinely believed I was living a life of luxury. He assumed I was wealthy. If only he knew that every evening, I would purposefully take walks past high-end bars and grand casinos just to blend into affluent crowds and catch the eyes of wealthy men, he would never have called me rich.
"What do you do for a living, beautiful?" Khalid asked one evening, breaking the lull in our conversation.
"What else would I be doing, my dear, other than fixing people's broken bodies?" I giggled, letting the lie slip effortlessly from my tongue. "I am a medical doctor."
"Impressive," he replied. "And how old are you, Jema?"
"Take a guess. How old do I look?"
"With a face as youthful as yours, it is hard to tell," Khalid teased.
"Oh, stop it. I am only twenty-five," I cooed, altering my voice to sound as sweet as possible. In reality, I was twenty-eight, and a wave of embarrassment washed over me for lying about my age.
"So young, yet so successful. I must say, I am incredibly intrigued by you."
"And what about you, Khalid? What do you do?"
"I am just a businessman," he replied casually. "Today I might be in Tanzania, tomorrow China, and the next day France. I rarely stay in one place for long."
"Where are you currently stationed?"
"I am in Arusha at the moment. When will you be free so I can send you a travel allowance to come visit me?"
My heart skipped a violent beat at the mention of money.
"Jema? Why the sudden silence, dear?"
"I was just checking my schedule," I lied, keeping my tone perfectly composed. "I have about four days off coming up. If you can send the fare, please do so. However, I must warn you—I absolutely despise taking the bus."
"A bus? For a beauty like you?" Khalid laughed. "Never. I am sending you a plane ticket, Jema. A woman of your stature shouldn't be crammed into a bus like bananas in a crate. Should I send the funds to this number? Don't worry, I will add extra for your salon expenses as well."
My heart pounded against my ribs, leaving me completely speechless.
(To be continued............)
