My Scam Victim Story/Survivor Story #85

I’m Soo-jin, a 42-year-old office manager living in a modest apartment in Incheon, South Korea, and I’m trembling with a mix of betrayal and sorrow as I share how an online romance scam stole 50 million won from me, leaving my savings empty and my heart shattered. I poured my trust into a man I thought I loved, only to discover he was a phantom who vanished with my money, leaving me to face the wreckage of my dreams alone.

It all began in the early spring, a time when I felt the weight of loneliness more than ever. I had been single for years, my days filled with the routine of my job at a small logistics firm, my evenings spent scrolling through social media, longing for a connection to brighten my life. I joined a platform to meet new people, my fingers hesitant but hopeful as I created my profile, and soon I connected with a man named Daniel Carter. He claimed to be a banker living in Mexico, his profile picture showing a handsome man with a warm smile, his messages full of charm that made my heart flutter. I felt a spark I hadn’t known in ages, my excitement growing with each chat we shared.

Daniel and I talked every day, our conversations becoming the highlight of my routine. I learned he was an American working for a major bank, stationed in Mexico City for a project, and he shared stories of his travels, his love for spicy food, and his dreams of settling down with the right woman. I opened up to him about my life, my hopes, and my fears, my voice soft as I told him things I hadn’t shared with anyone in years, my heart trusting him more with each word. I fell for him quickly, my nights spent dreaming of a future together, his promises of love filling the emptiness I had carried for so long. I sent him little messages of affection, my fingers typing out words of adoration, and he responded with warmth, making me feel cherished in a way I hadn’t felt in a decade.

Our relationship deepened, and Daniel began sharing his struggles, his voice tinged with urgency as he told me he had been pick-pocketed while working in Mexico. I listened with concern, my heart aching as he explained that he had lost everything, including his wallet and phone, and now faced being kicked out of his hotel because he couldn’t pay the bill. He asked for 50 million won to cover his expenses, his words desperate as he pleaded for my help, promising to pay me back as soon as he returned to the U.S. I hesitated for a moment, my savings hard-earned from years of careful budgeting, but my love for him overpowered my doubts. I sent the money through a wire transfer, my fingers trembling as I completed the transaction, my mind filled with hope that I was saving the man I loved.

Daniel thanked me profusely, his messages full of gratitude as he called me his savior, my heart swelling with pride as I imagined him safe because of me. He sent me pictures of his passport, driver’s license, and company ID, my eyes scanning the documents as I felt reassured, believing they proved his identity, my trust in him solidified. We continued to chat, my love for him growing with each message, but then everything changed. He told me he had been jailed in Mexico for reasons he couldn’t explain, his voice panicked as he said he couldn’t be reached for a while, my stomach twisting with worry as I tried to contact him, my messages going unanswered, his profile suddenly silent.

I waited for days, my anxiety mounting with each passing hour, my fingers dialing his number over and over, but the line remained dead. I felt a growing dread, my mind racing with fears for his safety, my heart clinging to the hope that he would reach out soon. I couldn’t bear the uncertainty, my desperation driving me to seek help, my hands trembling as I contacted the Korean Embassy in Mexico, my voice breaking as I explained my situation, begging for any information about Daniel. I learned the truth that day, my world shattering as I discovered I had been the victim of an online romance scam, my 50 million won stolen by a man who never existed, my love for him a cruel illusion.

The aftermath left me reeling, my heart heavy with a mix of betrayal and sorrow, my savings gone and my dreams destroyed. I couldn’t afford my apartment anymore, my finances in ruins, and I moved to a smaller place in Suwon, a shared space with thin walls and a single window, my monthly salary barely covering the rent. I live on the edge now, my sorrow a constant companion as I count every won, my quality of life a shadow of what it once was, my future looking bleaker than I ever imagined. I struggle to find joy, my evenings spent staring at the ceiling of my tiny room, my mind replaying every message I sent him, every moment I believed in his lies, my sorrow deepening as I mourn the love I thought I had found.

Emotionally, I’m a wreck, my heart broken not just by the loss of money but by the betrayal of a love I thought was real. I loved Daniel, or at least the idea of him, and I poured everything into that love, only to find it was a cruel trick, my trust shattered as I question how I could have been so blind, my sorrow turning inward as I blame myself for falling for his lies. I isolate myself, avoiding friends who once filled my life with laughter, unable to face their questions or pity, my social media accounts now deleted, my once-active online presence replaced by silence, my sorrow keeping me locked away from the world.

My family relationships suffer too, the scam’s impact seeping into every connection I hold dear. I avoid calls from my sister in Daejeon, knowing she’ll ask about my plans to visit her, plans I can’t afford anymore, my shame too heavy to share. I stop visiting my parents in Ansan, unable to bear their concern, my pride keeping me from admitting how far I’ve fallen, my sorrow isolating me from the warmth of their love. I miss our family gatherings, the comfort of their hugs, but I can’t face them, my heartbreak and embarrassment keeping me distant, my once-close family ties now strained by my silence.

Physically, I feel the toll of my emotional turmoil, my body reflecting the chaos in my spirit. I lose my appetite, my meals reduced to instant ramen when I bother to eat at all, my stomach too knotted with sorrow to care. Sleep evades me, my nights filled with restless thoughts, my body tense as I lie awake, replaying my mistakes, my sorrow keeping me from rest. I stop going for my evening walks along the Incheon waterfront, my energy drained, my once-active lifestyle replaced by a sedentary existence in my apartment, my body aching from the stress I can’t release, my joints stiff as I sit for hours, staring out the window at a world that feels so far away.

I struggle to find a way forward, my sorrow a constant companion as I navigate this new reality, my life a far cry from the one I had dreamed of with Daniel. I focus on the basics, using my salary to cover rent, cutting expenses to survive, my sorrow fueling my determination to keep going despite the odds. I rebuild small pieces of my life, starting with a call to my sister, her voice a lifeline as I share a little of my pain, her support a glimmer of hope in my darkened world. I return to my walks, my sorrow softening as I breathe in the salty air, the rhythm of my steps a reminder that I can still move forward, my journey a testament to my resilience, even as I carry the scars of a love that was nothing more than a scam.