The impersonator had contacted her after she left comments beneath his photographs. He claimed Max remembered me, suspected Lily was his daughter, and wanted a private DNA test. First, she had to pay a “confidentiality fee.”
Publicidad
“Lily, this is a scam.”
“It could be real.”
“The account was created four days ago. His name is misspelled, and he told you not to inform an adult.”
Her face crumpled as I canceled the payment.
“That doesn’t mean the real Max isn’t my father.”
For one hopeful second, I thought the deception had finally broken the fantasy.
Then she whispered, “That doesn’t mean the real Max isn’t my father.”
That was when I understood how vulnerable she had become. Someone had nearly stolen her money. The next person might ask her to meet them.
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That night, I found Max’s official agency website and opened a blank email.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard before I typed:
