Turns Out My Fake Boyfriend Drove a Benz

After my college roommates started getting into relationships one after another, they became obsessed with setting me up.

Unable to handle the constant pressure, I did what any desperate person would do; I invented a boyfriend.

One evening, after a late-night dinner with the girls, everyones significant other showed up to pick them up.

To keep my lie from collapsing, I casually lied. "My boyfriend has to work overtime tonight, so he can't make it."

But the moment we walked out of the restaurant, a sleek black Mercedes executive sedan pulled up to the curb. A driver wearing white gloves stepped out and opened the door for me.

"Good evening, Miss Emma. Your boyfriend booked this luxury ride to take you back to campus. It is an honor to serve you."

I froze on the spot.

I was single to my very core. The boyfriend was a complete fabrication, a ghost in my own imagination.

So who on earth had ordered this car?

"Emma, you are way too modest! This is what you call an ordinary, working-class boyfriend?"

"No wonder you kept making excuses when we tried to set you up. You've been holding onto a secret millionaire this whole time!"

My mouth twitched, but I couldn't utter a single syllable.

During my two years at university, this imaginary boyfriend had been the perfect shield.

When my classmates invited me to go to a club until three in the morning and I didn't want to go, I would say my boyfriend didn't like me staying out late.

When an upperclassman tried to pursue me and I wanted to reject him politely, I would say I was already taken.

It was incredibly convenient.

But the reality was that I was twenty-one years old and had never even held a boy's hand. Looking a guy in the eye for more than a second made me want to curl up and disappear.

Where would I get a boyfriend?

I stole a glance at the driver. He stood by the open door, his back straight as a rod, looking entirely professional. He definitely didn't seem like the type to make a mistake.

"Excuse me, are you sure you have the right person? My name is Emma."

"There is no mistake, Miss Emma. The reservation has your name and phone number. You can check the screen if you'd like."

The driver held out his tablet. The booking platform displayed my name and my exact phone number.

My mind went entirely blank.

Who was this?

I glanced at my roommates out of the corner of my eye. Could they be pulling a massive prank on me?

But Lily was busy clinging to her boyfriends arm, whispering sweet nothings.

Nora was looking down at her phone, a soft, genuine smile on her lips as she texted her guy.

Phoebe was tapping her foot, impatiently waiting for her boyfriend to pull his car around.

None of the three showed even a hint of suspicion.

"Miss Emma, please step inside. Your boyfriend was very specific about making sure you returned to your dorm safely," the driver urged gently. My roommates began pushing me toward the back seat, and with no other option, I climbed in.

The ride was incredibly smooth. The driver didn't say a single word the entire trip.

When we arrived at my dorm building, I opened my mouth to ask for the name of the gentleman who had booked the ride, but the driver simply gave a polite nod, got back in, and sped away.

I stood in the chilly night air for a long time before finally walking upstairs.

The moment I pushed the dorm door open, I saw a beautifully wrapped gift box sitting on my desk.

I hadn't ordered anything online recently.

After hesitating for several minutes, I carefully unwrapped the box.

Inside was a complete, high-end luxury skincare set. Just yesterday, I had casually mentioned in the dorm that I wondered if I would ever be able to afford such an expensive brand by the time I turned thirty.

A small card rested on top of the bottles.

No need to wait until you are thirty. You can have it now. Loving you always, your boyfriend.

Phoebe and the others walked in just then. When they saw the famous, incredibly expensive skincare set on my desk, their eyes nearly popped out of their heads.

"Oh my god, isn't this the set that costs over two thousand dollars? Emma, your man is insanely generous!"

"Emma, you need to tell us the truth. Is your boyfriend a corporate executive or a trust-fund baby?"

I shoved the bottles back into the box, my face pale.

"What is wrong? Aren't you happy to get a gift?" Phoebe nudged my arm. "Did you guys get into a fight?"

I didn't answer.

The only people who knew I was dining at that specific restaurant tonight, and the only people who heard me wish for that skincare set, were the three girls in this room.

Was it really a prank?

But these things cost a fortune. We were all broke college students; who would spend this kind of money just to mess with me?

I turned the box over and found the shipping label to check the senders information.

The sender field was completely blurred out, marked as a private, high-security shipment.

It was terrifyingly stealthy.

I lay in bed that night, tossing and turning, unable to find a single logical explanation.

The next morning, as I walked downstairs with heavy dark circles under my eyes, the dorm supervisor called out to me.

"Emma! Perfect timing, someone left breakfast for you!"

My heart sank with a terrible premonition.

Sure enough, when I took the insulated bag from the courier, I found a warm container of custard-filled cronuts and a hot white chocolate mocha.

A card was tucked into the side, the handwriting elegant and smooth.

Remember to eat breakfast. Don't go to class on an empty stomach. Loving you always, your boyfriend.

My hand shook, nearly dropping the container.

The supervisor offered a knowing, sweet smile. "You're a very lucky girl."

The courier added, "Your boyfriend was worried you wouldn't have time to stop by the dining hall before your early class, and he didn't want you eating cold food. He had me time the delivery perfectly."

A cold sweat broke out across my forehead.

The professor had only announced the rescheduled seven AM class on our private group chat late last night. How could this person possibly know my schedule?

As the courier turned to leave, I grabbed his sleeve.

"Wait! Please, can you tell me what my boyfriend looks like?"

The courier stared at me as if I had lost my mind.

I forced a strained laugh. "We met online. We haven't actually met in person yet."

The couriers eyes lit up with understanding.

"I didn't see him myself, Miss Emma, but with a boyfriend this attentive, you should definitely hold onto him."

I mumbled a thank you, carried the bag to my classroom, and stared at the card.

The handwriting was completely unfamiliar. I had never seen it before in my life.

It was possible the sender had simply paid the bakery to write the note.

The cronuts were still piping hot. They were from a famous bakery located ten miles away from campus, a place I only treated myself to when I won a scholarship.

This person knew my exact tastes, my exact schedule, and my exact location.

The more I thought about it, the more my skin crawled.

Phoebe slid into the seat next to me, her eyes lighting up when she saw the pastry box.

"Wow, your boyfriend again? Those pastries are so expensive. I wanted to get them last week, but the price made me walk right out."

She leaned over to read the card, letting out an exaggerated gasp.

"He even writes cute little cards! How romantic! Emma, you must have saved a kingdom in your past life."

I offered a weak smile, keeping my mouth shut.

If I saved a kingdom, then who was going to save me now?

If someone actually had a crush on me, why were they lurking in the shadows, pretending to be a boyfriend I had made up?

The gifts kept coming, relentless and precise.

When the tip of my favorite fountain pen broke during a lecture, a brand-new one was sitting on my desk the very next morning.

When I got my period and was doubling over with cramps, a heating patch and a thermos of chamomile tea appeared in my desk drawer by the afternoon.

There was even an advanced calculus problem I had been struggling with for hours.

While I stepped out to use the restroom, a page of neatly handwritten steps appeared on my notebook. Every step was perfectly clear, with a small note at the bottom: Keep going, you're going to do great.

And the signature was always the same: Loving you always, your boyfriend.

Even my classmates started teasing me.

"Emma, when are you going to let us meet this mysterious, perfect boyfriend of yours?"

"Exactly! You've been hiding him for so long, are you worried we're going to steal him?"

I could only offer awkward laughs to brush it off.

But the terror inside me was growing.

This person was everywhere.

They knew my schedule, my preferences, and my daily struggles. I stopped talking in my dorm room entirely, constantly feeling like a pair of invisible eyes was watching my every move.

The breaking point came when I went home for the weekend.

My mother confessed that our familys florist shop was struggling financially and she was thinking of closing it down, even though it was our only source of income.

I hid under my blanket that night and cried myself to sleep, telling absolutely no one.

The next morning, my mother woke me up, her voice trembling. "Emma, wake up! I just got a call from the corporate office of the Grand Plaza Hotel. They want our shop to be their exclusive floral provider!"

I sat up in bed, thrilled. "That is amazing, Mom! Now we don't have to close the shop!"

"But, they also sent this card with the contract."

My hand began to shake as I took the familiar card from her. The joy drained from my face instantly.

A gift for my future mother-in-law. Loving you always, your boyfriend.

The blood froze in my veins. I sank back onto the mattress, paralyzed.

I had cried about the florist shop last night.

And by this morning, the problem was solved?

Just then, my phone buzzed with an anonymous text message.

Don't cry. I'm here now.

I couldn't take it anymore. I dialed the number in a frenzy of panic.

But a cold, mechanical voice replied:

"We're sorry, the number you have dialed is not in service."

I called the Grand Plaza Hotel.

The corporate manager told me that their client had strictly forbidden them from releasing any personal information.

The terror was suffocating. This person knew about my familys private financial struggles. It was impossible.

Unless...

I stripped off my clothes and had my mother inspect my body for any hidden tracking devices.

Then, I bought an infrared detector and swept every corner of our house, but found absolutely nothing.

I stared at my phone. Was it possible that my device had been infected with a tracking virus?

That afternoon, I went to a local electronics shop, sold my phone, and purchased a brand-new device along with a new SIM card under a different number.

The transaction cost me a chunk of my monthly allowance, but I was too terrified to care.

I didn't dare stay at home, returning to campus that very evening.

Thankfully, over the next three days, no strange gifts appeared.

I was just starting to let my guard down when I had a dream.

In the dream, a man whose face was obscured by a soft mist spoke to me, his voice low and laced with a gentle sadness.

"Emma, did you not like the things I sent you?"

"It is almost your twentieth birthday, baby. I'm going to send you a nice, big gift so you can buy whatever your heart desires."

I bolted upright in bed, drenched in a cold sweat.

Aside from my mother, no one knew that I had altered my birth year on my identification documents by a year so I could enroll in primary school early.

Everyone at university believed I was twenty-one.

I had never told a single friend, and my roommates definitely didn't know.

While I was trying to process this, my new phone buzzed.

I picked it up. It was a notification from my bank. A wire transfer of three hundred thousand dollars had just cleared.

The memo line read:

Happy 20th birthday, baby.

I dropped the phone onto the floor.

The screen remained lit, the massive number staring back at me.

Phoebe was woke up by the sound, asking sleepily what was wrong.

I quickly snatched the phone and turned off the screen. "Nothing, just a nightmare."

I pulled the blanket over my head, shivering.

The dream and the notification had lined up perfectly.

The three hundred thousand dollars was exactly what the man in my dream had promised.

Could this really be coming from my nonexistent boyfriend?

It was completely insane.

I tossed and turned until sunrise, heading straight to the bank the moment it opened.

I wanted to return the funds, but the teller informed me that they couldn't process a return without the senders verified account information.

"Miss, if you are truly concerned about the origin of these funds, I suggest you contact the police."

Her words snapped me out of my daze.

Yes. The police.

I walked out of the bank, but before I could pull out my phone to dial the emergency line, someone called my name.

I turned around to see my university counselor, and beside him stood two uniformed police officers.

Before coming to the bank, I had sent a frantic email to my counselor about the mysterious funds, which explained why he was here.

"Emma, thank goodness we found you. These officers need to speak with you."

My heart did a violent flip.

One of the officers stepped forward, displaying his badge.

"Emma? We received a report regarding a series of highly suspicious financial transactions and high-value gifts sent to your name, including a recent transfer of three hundred thousand dollars. We need you to come with us to the station to assist with an investigation."

My head spun.

Who had reported this to the police before I could?

I followed them to the station, sitting in a stark interrogation room as the questions began to fly.

"Who sent these items to you?"

"Where did the three hundred thousand dollars come from?"

"What is your boyfriends name and contact information?"

I clutched the edge of my shirt, my palms slick with sweat.

"I don't have a boyfriend. I don't know who sent those things, and I don't know who transferred that money."

The officer frowned. "No boyfriend? But everyone at your university has stated that you've been in a committed relationship for two years."

"I made him up!" I cried, my voice trembling. "I just wanted to avoid being set up, so I invented him. I don't have a boyfriend!"

The two officers exchanged a dark look.

"Emma, we need you to cooperate. The delivery records and the bank transfer are all registered in your name. Do you really expect us to believe you have no idea who is behind this?"

"I really don't know!"

Tears began to spill down my cheeks. "I want to know who is doing this more than anyone! I changed my phone, I changed my number, but he still found me. He even knew about my mothers flower shop!"

The officers questioned me for another hour before finally letting me go, telling me to remain in the city and keep my phone active.

By the time I walked out of the station, the sky was dark.

The freezing wind bit at my face, and my head throbbed with a dull, persistent ache.

I kept my head down as I walked back toward campus, constantly sensing someone following me.

But when I spun around, the sidewalk was completely empty.

I quickened my pace, and as I reached the university gates, I saw Phoebe waiting for me.

Her face was twisted in a look of disgust.

"Emma, tell me the truth. Are you being kept by some sugar daddy?"

I froze. "What?"

"Otherwise, where did all those things come from? And that three hundred thousand dollars? Who hands out that kind of cash for no reason?"

Phoebes voice was incredibly loud, and several passing students stopped to stare.

"You're always acting so quiet and humble, and your family is broke. Who would spend this kind of money on you? Stop pretending, Emma. Everyone knows."

The whispers around us grew louder, and the judgmental stares felt like needles poking into my skin.

I stood there, my entire body turning cold.

I looked up at the dark sky, and suddenly, a violent, cracking pain exploded in my skull. My legs gave out, and the world began to tilt.

But in the fraction of a second before I hit the ground, a rush of understanding flooded my mind.

I finally understood what was happening.

And as the darkness took me, a strange, frantic hope bloomed in my chest.