I nearly lost everything when a gorgeous woman paid me $500 to act as her boyfriend
I thought my life was under control—until a stranger offered me $500 to pretend to be her boyfriend for three hours. It seemed like easy money, but it soon turned into a nightmare that almost cost me everything I’d worked for.
My name is Anthony. I’m thirty-two, a marketing strategist, and the kind of guy people call “stable.” My life was simple: work hard, care for Mom, and avoid distractions. After Dad left when I was twelve, Mom sacrificed everything for me. She worked double shifts so I could go to college and smiled through exhaustion. Now it was my turn to protect her. Every choice I made revolved around security—for her and for me.
I wasn’t the type to date casually or go out drinking. My coworkers joked I was allergic to fun, but between Mom’s medical bills and career goals, I couldn’t afford distractions. I was on track for a promotion. That is, until one Saturday afternoon in September.
I was at my favorite café, reading marketing journals, when a stunning woman approached. Auburn hair, green eyes, and the kind of presence that made conversation impossible to ignore. Without invitation, she sat down.
“Hi. I’m Meredith. Want to earn $500 for three hours of your time?” she asked.
I nearly choked. “I’m sorry—what?”
“I need a fake boyfriend,” she said, dead serious. “One lunch, three hours, and you get five hundred bucks. Cash.”
She explained that her father was pressuring her to settle down. The original “boyfriend” bailed, and she needed a replacement. Rationally, I should have walked away. But her smile was disarming, and she added, “I picked you because you look trustworthy. My parents will approve.”
It seemed harmless: one lunch, $500, and I could help Mom cover physical therapy sessions. I agreed.
We walked to the restaurant rehearsing our story—how we met, what we liked, how long we’d “been dating.” I felt uneasy, but nothing prepared me for the sight waiting inside.
At the corner table sat David—my boss, the CEO of my company, and Meredith’s father.
I froze. Meredith slid her arm through mine. “This is my boyfriend, Anthony.”
David looked at me, raised an eyebrow, and forced a smile.
The lunch became a grueling test. David quizzed me about work—campaigns, clients, quarterly targets—while his wife praised my “drive.” By dessert, he warned, “If you ever hurt my daughter, you’ll never work in this industry again.”
Afterward, Meredith suggested a “romantic walk.” Once out of sight, I confronted her.
“You need to tell your dad the truth. I can’t risk my job over this.”
She laughed. “Relax. It’s just one lunch.”
“One lunch? You dragged me into a dinner with my CEO’s family!”
She smirked. “Next week, we do it again.”
I realized I had stepped into something dangerous.