A Good Catch

American accent

Ken firmly believed that to get ahead in life, one had to prioritise intelligence over morality.

To him, the world was divided into two types of people: those who understood how it worked and those who didn’t. The latter were easy to manipulate. He never thought of them as victims—only as people who trusted too easily.

Over the years, he had refined his method into something precise and efficient. Romance scams were not based on luck; they required patience, diligence, and control. He studied his targets carefully, learning their habits, their fears, and, most importantly, their needs. Then he became exactly what they were looking for.

To one woman, he was a thoughtful widower trying to rebuild his life. To another, a soldier stationed overseas, distant yet devoted. He adapted effortlessly, adjusting his tone, his language, even his personality.

And it worked.

Ken had acquired a considerable fortune over the years—more than he could ever need.

But money was no longer the main attraction. The thing he relished most was the control: the gradual development of trust, the moment when someone became emotionally reliant on him, and the quiet satisfaction of suddenly vanishing without explanation.

He never thought seriously about the repercussions of his actions.

Until one day, something changed.

Her name was Elena.

She appeared like many others on a platform he knew well. Her profile was simple but carefully presented. Recently divorced. Independent. Not desperate, but clearly alone.

Ken recognised the opportunity immediately.

He began as he always did—polite messages, light conversation, and then gradually more personal. He mirrored her tone, matched her pace, and allowed the connection to grow naturally.

Within a week, she was confiding in him.

Within two, she was waiting for his messages.

But there was something different about her.

She never rushed.

Most people wanted quick emotional connection. Elena didn’t. She responded thoughtfully, listened carefully, but always held something back.

It made Ken curious.

One evening, she wrote:

“You’re very good with words.”

Ken smiled slightly.

“Occupational habit,” he replied.

“What do you do again?” she asked.

“I told you,” he said. “I design skyscrapers.”

There was a short pause.

Then she answered:

“Of course.”

It was a simple response, yet something about it felt slightly off.

Ken ignored it.

Weeks passed, and he continued building the relationship. He shared stories—some true, some invented—carefully balancing detail and distance. He created a version of himself that felt credible, even trustworthy.

Elena listened.

But she never lost that sense of distance.

It began to irritate him.

Then one evening, she asked:

“Have you ever felt guilty?”

Ken paused.

“About what?” he replied.

“About hurting someone,” she wrote.

Ken leaned back, considering his answer.

“Everyone hurts someone at some point,” he wrote.

There was a pause.

Then she replied:

“Not like you do.”

Ken frowned slightly.

“You don’t know me that well,” he wrote.

Another pause followed.

Then:

“I know exactly who you are, Ken.”

Something shifted.

“You’re mistaken,” he replied.

“No,” she wrote. “I’m not.”

Another message appeared.

“I’ve spoken to three of them.”

Ken’s body went still.

“Three of who?” he asked.

“The women you disappeared from,” she replied.

A sharp tension spread through him.

This wasn’t possible. He had always been careful. He never left a trace.

“Nice try,” he wrote. “But you don’t have anything.”

There was a pause.

Then she sent a file.

Inside were messages, names, and dates—different conversations but clearly connected.

His conversations.

His patterns.

Something inside him shifted again.

“How did you get this?” he asked.

“Because I was one of them,” she replied.

Ken tried to remember, but the faces had blurred together. The stories overlapped.

“They all blur together for you, don’t they?” she wrote.

Ken didn’t respond.

“This conversation is being recorded,” she added.

His chest tightened.

“And sent to others.”

“To whom?” he asked.

“To people who understand consequences.”

For the first time in years, Ken felt afraid.

He looked around his apartment. It no longer felt safe. It felt exposed.

“Listen,” he typed quickly. “We can resolve this.”

But there was no reply.

The conversation ended.

A few days later, there was a knock at his door.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Certain.

Ken stood still.

For years, he had entered other people’s lives without warning.

Now, someone had entered his.

And this time, there was no escape.

📒 Key vocabulary

• morality – the principles of right and wrong
• latter – the last of two or more things mentioned
• refined (refine, refined, refined) – improve and make more effective or precise
• precise – exact and accurate
• targets – one’s potential victims
• stationed (station, stationed, stationed) – assigned to work or stay in a particular place
• acquired (acquire, acquired, acquired) – gain or obtain something over time
• relished (relish, relished, relished) – enjoy or take pleasure in something
• repercussions – the consequences of one’s bad actions
• pace – the speed at which something happens
• confide (confide, confided, confided) – tell someone about a secret or private matter
• credible – believable
• frowned (frown, frowned, frowned) – make an expression with the forehead indicating disapproval or displeasure
• shifted (shift, shifted, shifted) – change position or direction
• blurred (blur, blurred, blurred) – become unclear or difficult to distinguish
• overlapped (overlap, overlapped, overlapped) – partly cover or happen at the same time

🤔 Comprehension quiz

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