Ryan Carter was halfway through organizing his desk when the dorm room door slammed open. Mark Lawson, his tall, broad-shouldered roommate, stormed in with a scowl that could curdle milk.
"Ryan, what the hell, man?" Mark's voice was sharp and loud, the kind that turned heads in a crowded cafeteria. "Emily—my girlfriend I introduced you to—has been blowing up my phone all morning. She says she's been trying to reach you for days and you're ghosting her. You realize how crappy that makes me look?"
Ryan didn't even glance up from the desk drawer he was sorting. "You mean your online girlfriend?"
Mark thrust his phone into Ryan's hands. "Read it. Look at all the messages she sent me asking about you. She's freaking out!"
The contact name read "Emily_Baby 💕." Ryan skimmed through the texts—lines of concern, flirty emojis, and "please tell him to respond."
He knew the truth already. He'd figured it out weeks ago: Emily didn't exist. She was just a bunch of stolen pictures from some model's Instagram account, all part of a con Mark had been running on him. Ryan had already made his move once—stripping away two of Mark's basic skill proficiencies in the system—but apparently, the guy hadn't learned his lesson.
Ryan inhaled slowly, reached over, and with a flick of his thumb opened Mark's mobile banking screen. Six thousand five hundred dollars sat neatly in his Venmo balance.
Without a word, Ryan tapped "Transfer," keyed in his own account, then grabbed Mark's wrist and pressed his thumb to the phone's fingerprint scanner.
Ping! "Transfer successful."
Ryan pulled out his own phone, accepted the money, and slid it into his account.
"WHAT THE—Ryan! Did you just take my money?!" Mark's eyes went wide, then bloodshot with fury.
Ryan's gaze flicked down to Mark's shiny new iPhone 13 Pro—easily an $1100 phone. "Bought it with my money too, huh?" He plucked the phone out of Mark's hands and, with a casual twist of his wrist, hurled it to the tile floor. The device split in two with a crack and a spray of shattered glass.
"Are you out of your damn mind?!" Mark shouted.
Gavin Brooks, their other roommate, peeked out from behind his laptop. "Whoa, what's going on here?"
"This idiot," Mark jabbed a finger toward Ryan, "is mad about his breakup, so now he's trashing my stuff!"
Ryan stood, his voice low and ice-cold. "Breakup? Don't insult my intelligence. Emily doesn't exist, Mark. You found some model's pictures online, slapped them into a fake profile, and catfished me so you could bleed me for cash. What was it—fifty, sixty grand by now? There are transfer records, moron."
Mark's mouth opened, then closed. He stammered, "That's—that's not—"
Ryan cut him off. "You forget your old phone? The one you left logged into 'Emily's' account? I saw the messages, Mark. You weren't even subtle."
The fight drained out of Mark's posture for a split second, but then anger returned like a mask. "Fine. You want to accuse me? Go ahead. But you just stole my money and destroyed my phone. I can call the cops right now."
"Do it," Ryan said, stepping forward. "Because then I'll show them every wire transfer, every PayPal receipt, every text from your little fake romance scheme. You'd be facing felony fraud charges before dinner."
The room went quiet except for the hum of Gavin's computer fan.
Gavin's jaw tightened. "Mark… tell me you didn't scam him."
Mark didn't answer. His eyes darted between them, then he scooped up the wreckage of his phone and shoved it into his backpack.
"You're not worth it," Mark muttered, but his glare promised he wasn't done. He stomped out of the dorm.
Gavin exhaled sharply. "That guy's unbelievable. You've been nothing but decent to him, and he pulls this crap?"
Ryan shrugged, though the tension in his shoulders didn't ease. "Some people mistake kindness for weakness."
Gavin ran a hand through his hair. "You want me to help track him down later?"
"No need. I'll deal with him when the time's right. For now…" Ryan checked his watch. "We've got a bigger problem—finding an apartment before the school kicks us out of the dorms."
Gavin, who had graduated from his internship into a junior sales rep position, nodded. His base pay was around $3,900 a month, with commission pushing it higher when he closed deals. The income was steady enough for them to split rent.
Ryan had just landed a job at Vertex Dynamics, a tech startup one bus stop away from Gavin's office. The location was perfect.
They spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon pounding the pavement, scrolling rental apps, and taking Uber rides across town. By 5 p.m., they struck gold: a two-bedroom, one-bath apartment above a coffee shop in the heart of Main Street. Hardwood floors, clean kitchen, decent furniture included.
Rent was $2,500 a month, three months upfront. Split down the middle, each owed $3,750 to move in. The money Ryan had just recovered from Mark covered his share almost to the dollar.
They signed the lease on the spot.
Gavin grinned. "First round of drinks tonight is on me. Let's celebrate."
Ryan shook his head. "Rain check. I've got dinner plans."
By the time he made it back to campus, it was nearly six. He headed toward The Copper Lantern, one of the most upscale restaurants in town. The last time he'd been here was two years ago, when he and his dormmates had splurged on a celebratory meal. The bill had hit $280, and they'd barely eaten enough to justify it.
Outside the restaurant, someone paced nervously near the entrance.
"Professor Young?" Ryan called.
Linda Young, his faculty advisor, turned sharply. "Ryan—oh, what a coincidence." Her smile was polite, but there was tension in her eyes. "How's the job hunt going?"
"Actually landed one," Ryan said. "Start Monday."
"That's wonderful. Congratulations."
Ryan hesitated, glancing at her worried expression. "You okay? You look… preoccupied."
She waved it off. "It's nothing you need to worry about."
"If it's something I can help with, I will. Seriously."
Linda's eyes softened for a moment, but she didn't elaborate. "Go on inside, Ryan. Enjoy your evening."
He nodded, filing it away for later. "Alright. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me."
With that, he stepped inside The Copper Lantern, ready for an evening that—he suspected—would change more than just his living arrangements.