A Stranger Slapped Me at the Mall and Called Me a Homewrecker—Then My Boss Offered Me $5 Million to Become Another Man’s Girlfriend

Part 2 – THE PERFECT TARGET

The transformation into Grace Miller took almost three weeks of intensive preparation.

Marcus had connections that I didn’t even want to know about – people who could create completely authentic false

identities, complete with years of social media history, academic records, financial documentation,

and personal references that would pass any level of scrutiny.

Grace Liu was the daughter of a successful tech entrepreneur who’d made his fortune in Silicon Valley before

retiring to focus on philanthropic work.

She’d graduated from UC Berkeley with a business degree, worked briefly at her father’s company to learn about

corporate operations, and was now taking some time to “find herself” while living off a substantial trust fund.

She was exactly the kind of naive, wealthy young woman that Derek Williams specialized in identifying and

manipulating.

I spent hours every day studying Grace’s fictional background until I could recite every detail of her life story

without hesitation.

I learned about her supposed childhood in Palo Alto, her years at Berkeley,

her complicated relationship with her father’s success, her uncertainty about what she wanted to do with her own

life.

I practiced her mannerisms, her speech patterns, even her handwriting until I could become her completely.

Marcus also provided me with a fully functional trust fund containing several million dollars,

enough to make me an extremely attractive target for someone like Derek while also ensuring I’d have resources

available if I needed them during the operation.

It took less than two weeks for Derek to find me once I started the active phase of the assignment.

I was sitting at a Starbucks near Northwestern University – deliberately chosen because of its connection to Katie

– reading a book about startup culture and occasionally checking my phone in a way that suggested I was waiting for

someone.

I’d been establishing this routine for five days straight, going to the same coffee shop at the same time,

making myself seem approachable and predictable.

Derek Williams looked exactly like his surveillance photographs,

but seeing him in person was a completely different experience.

He was handsome in that generic, corporate way – tall, well-dressed,

confident smile that probably worked on a lot of women.

But there was something about his eyes that made me immediately uncomfortable.

They were constantly moving, constantly calculating, like he was sizing up everyone around him and looking for

weaknesses he could exploit.

He approached my table carrying a coffee and wearing what I’m sure he thought was a charming, spontaneous smile.

“Excuse me, I really don’t want to bother you, but I couldn’t help noticing you’re reading ‘The Lean Startup.’ Are

you an entrepreneur by any chance?” I looked up with what I hoped was the right combination of shyness and

interest, like I was flattered that an attractive older man was paying attention to me.

“Oh, not really.

I’m just trying to understand my dad’s business better.

He keeps telling me I should get more involved in his company, but honestly,

most of the technical stuff goes completely over my head.” Perfect.

I’d established that I was wealthy, insecure about my intelligence, and had daddy issues –

exactly what Derek was looking for in a potential target.

“Would you mind if I sat down for a minute?

I actually work with a lot of tech startups in my job.

Maybe I can help explain some of the concepts in a way that makes more sense.” And just like that,

the trap was set and the game began.

Derek was remarkably good at what he did.

Over the next three weeks, he was absolutely the perfect gentleman in every possible way.

He paid for every single date without even letting me reach for my wallet,

listened intently whenever I talked about my hopes or fears or dreams,

asked thoughtful follow-up questions that made me feel like he was genuinely fascinated by everything I had to say.

If I hadn’t known exactly what he really was, if I hadn’t spent weeks studying his pattern of behavior,

I might have actually fallen for his performance.

He was that convincing.

He took me to expensive restaurants where he clearly knew the staff,

art museums where he could demonstrate his sophistication and cultural knowledge,

a jazz concert downtown where he held my hand and whispered interesting facts about the musicians between songs.

He brought me small, thoughtful gifts – never expensive enough to seem like he was trying to buy my affection,

but personal enough to show that he’d been paying attention to things I’d mentioned in previous conversations.

“You’re different from other women I’ve dated,” he told me one evening as we walked along the lakefront path,

the city lights reflecting off Lake Michigan.

“You’re obviously intelligent, but you don’t feel like you have to prove it all the time.

You’re confident about who you are without being arrogant about it.” It was a perfectly crafted compliment designed

to make me feel special while subtly putting down other women he’d been with.

Classic manipulation technique.

“I feel like I can actually be myself around you,” I said, playing my part perfectly.

“Most guys get really intimidated when they find out about my dad’s company and how much money my family has.

Like they think I’m judging them financially or something.” Derek’s eyes lit up with interest.

He was constantly fishing for information about my supposed wealth,

trying to gauge exactly how much money my fictional father had and how much access I might have to it.

“Your dad sounds like a really impressive man.

I’d love to meet him someday and hear about his experiences building a successful company.” “Oh,

he travels constantly for business,” I said casually.

“He’s in Hong Kong right now for some big international conference,

then he’s going to Singapore next week for meetings with potential partners.

Sometimes I don’t hear from him for days at a time because of the time zone differences.” Perfect.

A wealthy father who was conveniently absent and unavailable to verify my story or interfere with Derek’s plans.

By the end of the first month, Derek was telling me how special our connection was,

how he’d never felt this way about anyone before, how he thought we might have a real future together.

He was love-bombing me exactly the way Marcus had predicted he would,

following his established pattern with remarkable precision.

“Grace, I know this might sound crazy because we haven’t been together that long,” he said one night over dinner at

an expensive steakhouse, “but I think I’m falling in love with you.” I let my eyes get slightly teary,

like I was overwhelmed by the intensity of emotion.

“Derek, I…

I think I feel the same way about you.” That’s when he started talking about introducing me to his family.

“My mom’s birthday is coming up next month,” he said, reaching across the table to take my hand in both of his.

“I’d really love for you to meet her, and my dad, and my sister Emma.

I want them to see how amazing you are, how perfect we are together.” But the way he said it didn’t sound like a

simple request or invitation.

It sounded like a test, like something I was expected to pass in order to move forward in our relationship.

“I’d absolutely love to meet your family,” I said enthusiastically.

“What should I bring for your mom’s birthday?

I really want to make a good first impression.” Derek’s smile got noticeably wider and more genuine.

“You’re so thoughtful, Grace.

That’s exactly the kind of thing that makes me know you’re special.

Mom would absolutely love a nice piece of jewelry – maybe a gold necklace?

She’s always been drawn to classic, elegant pieces.

And my sister Emma is really into fashion and designer items, so maybe a handbag from someone like Gucci or Louis

Vuitton?” He paused for a moment, like he was thinking of other family members.

“Oh, and my dad is pretty easy to please – just get him some high-quality whiskey and a box of good cigars.

He’s got simple tastes but expensive preferences, if you know what I mean.

Plus my nephew Michael will probably be there – he’s eight years old and completely obsessed with Legos,

so maybe grab him one of those big complicated sets that takes hours to build.” I nodded enthusiastically,

but inside I was doing calculations.

A gold necklace worthy of impressing his mother, a designer handbag for his sister,

premium whiskey and cigars for his father, plus an expensive Lego set –

he was asking me to spend somewhere between five and ten thousand dollars on his family for a birthday party I’d

been dating him for less than two months.

“Of course!

I want them to love me as much as I…” I let my voice trail off shyly,

like I was too overwhelmed by my feelings to finish the sentence.

Derek squeezed my hand and leaned closer.

“As much as you love me?” I blushed and nodded, playing the part of a woman who was falling hard and fast for a man

she thought was perfect.

This wasn’t about celebrating his mother’s birthday or creating a warm family gathering.

This was about testing whether I was willing to spend significant money on his relatives,

establishing a precedent for financial exploitation that would escalate over time.

It was the first step in the systematic pattern Marcus had described to me.

If I were really Grace Liu, naive and desperately in love, I probably would have happily bankrupted myself buying

elaborate gifts for Derek’s family.

But I wasn’t Grace Liu, and I knew exactly what game he was playing with me.

Marcus had provided me with a substantial operational budget for this assignment,

but the thought of spending thousands of dollars on people who’d enabled Derek’s abuse for years made me physically

nauseous.

So I decided to have a little creative fun with the shopping trip.

I went to all the right stores and bought all the right things, but not quite in the way Derek was expecting.

The “gold necklace” came from a costume jewelry shop and was gold-plated metal that would turn his mother’s neck

green within a week of regular wear.

The “designer handbag” was a convincing knockoff from a street vendor that would fall apart after a few uses.

The “premium whiskey” was bottom-shelf liquor that I’d carefully transferred into an expensive Macallan bottle,

and the “good cigars” were gas station specials that I’d removed from their original packaging and placed in an

elegant wooden humidor.

Only the Lego set was genuine, because I felt genuinely sorry for an eight-year-old child who hadn’t chosen to be

part of this family.

When Derek picked me up for the drive to his parents’ house in Evanston,

I had a bag full of fake luxury gifts and a head full of determination.

I was about to meet the people who’d raised Derek Williams, who’d watched him systematically destroy Katie Thompson

and done nothing to stop him, who’d probably been enabling his abusive behavior for his entire adult life.

The Williams family lived in a modest two-story colonial house that was clearly trying to project more wealth and

status than they actually possessed.

The lawn was perfectly manicured, the cars in the driveway were nice but several years old,

and everything had that carefully maintained middle-class-aspiring-to-upper-class aesthetic that screamed financial

insecurity.

Derek’s mother, Patricia, answered the door wearing what was obviously her best outfit and a smile that looked like

it had been practiced in the mirror.

She was probably in her mid-sixties, with blonde hair that definitely came from a salon and jewelry that was trying

to look more expensive than it actually was.

“Grace!” she exclaimed, like we were long-lost friends reuniting after years apart.

“Derek has told us so much about you!

Come in, come in, we’re so excited to finally meet you!” The interior of the house was decorated in that generic

suburban style you see in furniture store showrooms – beige everything, no real personality,

carefully designed to impress visitors who didn’t look too closely at the details.

Family photographs lined the mantelpiece and covered most flat surfaces,

including several dozen pictures of Derek at various ages, always wearing that same calculated, charming smile.

Derek’s father, Robert, was planted in front of a large-screen television watching college football.

He was a big man with the soft physique of someone who’d once been athletic but had spent the last twenty years

behind a desk, and he delivered a handshake that was clearly trying to be more impressive than it actually was.

“So you’re the young lady who’s got our Derek all worked up,” he said with a laugh that made my skin crawl.

“He talks about you constantly.

Grace this, Grace that.

We were starting to wonder if you were actually real.” Emma, Derek’s sister,

looked like a female version of Derek – attractive in that same generic, professional way,

but with those exact same calculating eyes that never stopped evaluating everything around them.

She was married to a guy named Tom who barely acknowledged my presence,

too absorbed in his phone to participate in basic social interactions.

Their eight-year-old son Michael was genuinely the only pleasant person in the entire room.

He thanked me enthusiastically for the elaborate Lego set and immediately started making detailed plans about what

kind of spaceship he was going to build.

“Grace, honey,” Patricia said, guiding me to the most prominent seat on their living room couch,

“Derek tells us your father is involved in technology?

How exciting that must be for your family!” And just like that, the interrogation began in earnest.

They peppered me with increasingly specific questions about my fictional father’s business operations,

our family’s financial situation, where I’d gone to school, what my long-term career plans were,

whether I had access to investment capital.

It was all presented as polite family conversation, but I could see them mentally calculating my potential value

with every answer I provided.

“It must be so nice to have that kind of financial security,” Emma said with a smile that was all perfectly white

teeth and absolutely no warmth.

“Not having to worry about money or student loans, being able to focus on personal relationships without economic

stress.” “Oh, I definitely don’t take any of it for granted,” I said,

playing the role of the humble rich girl perfectly.

“My dad always taught me that money doesn’t automatically buy happiness or fulfillment.” Robert laughed,

but there was a distinctly bitter edge to it.

“That’s exactly what people who’ve never worried about making rent always say.

Easy to claim money doesn’t matter when you’ve never had to choose between groceries and electricity bills.” There

was genuine resentment in his comment that made me pay closer attention.

The Williams family was clearly struggling financially despite their attempts to project middle-class success.

Derek’s pharmaceutical sales job was probably decent but not nearly enough to support the lifestyle they wanted to

maintain.

Throughout dinner, the conversation kept circling back to financial topics with increasing obviousness.

How much had my father’s company sold for?

Was I personally involved in any investment opportunities?

Did I have access to venture capital for promising business ventures?

What kind of return was I getting on my trust fund?

Derek sat back and let his family do most of the investigative work,

occasionally shooting me reassuring smiles like he was slightly embarrassed by their direct questions.

It was beautifully orchestrated – he got to maintain the role of the respectful boyfriend while his relatives did

all the financial prospecting and evaluation.

“Derek, you didn’t tell us Grace was so business-minded and sophisticated,” Patricia said as she served an

elaborate dessert that had clearly taken significant effort.

“I bet she has all sorts of innovative ideas for investment opportunities.” “Mom,” Derek said with a practiced

laugh, “Grace is here to celebrate your birthday and meet the family,

not to talk business deals.” But his eyes were watching my reaction very carefully.

This was yet another test – would I volunteer to invest in some family business venture?

Would I be naive enough to offer money to people I’d just met?

“Well,” I said thoughtfully, “I’m always interested in learning about new opportunities and innovative projects.

Though my dad did teach me to be extremely careful about mixing business relationships with personal ones.” It was

exactly the right answer.

Smart enough to show I had money available for investment, but cautious enough to demonstrate that I wasn’t

completely naive about financial matters.

After dinner, Patricia disappeared into another room and returned with a small, elegant jewelry box.

“Grace, darling, I have something very special for you.” Inside was a ring – not an engagement ring,

but something that was clearly meant to look old and valuable.

“This was Derek’s grandmother’s ring, passed down through three generations of Williams women.

She always said it should go to someone truly special, someone who would become part of our family.” Derek looked

genuinely surprised by this gesture.

“Mom, are you sure about this?

Grandma always said that ring should stay in the family until there was a wedding.” Patricia beamed at me with

obvious satisfaction.

“Well, maybe it will stay in the family.” The implication was crystal clear.

They were already planning our engagement and eventual marriage,

already counting my fictional inheritance as part of their family’s future wealth.

I slipped the ring onto my finger and admired it with appropriate gratitude.

“It’s absolutely beautiful, Mrs. Williams.

Thank you so much for trusting me with something so precious.” But looking at the ring more closely under the

dining room lights, I could tell immediately that it was completely fake.

The “diamond” was obviously cubic zirconia, and the band was gold-plated rather than solid gold.

They were presenting me with a piece of costume jewelry while pretending it was a precious family heirloom.

These people were professional scammers, just like Derek.

The entire family was built on elaborate lies and systematic manipulation.

As we drove back to the city, Derek was practically glowing with satisfaction and excitement.

“They absolutely loved you, Grace.

I knew they would, but seeing it happen was incredible.” “They’re wonderful people,” I lied smoothly.

“I can definitely see where you get your warmth and consideration for others.” Derek reached over and squeezed my

hand while keeping his other hand on the steering wheel.

“Grace, tonight really got me thinking seriously about our future together.

I know we haven’t been dating that long, but what we have feels so real and so right.” “What do you mean exactly?”

“I think it’s time we took the next major step in our relationship.

Move in together, really start building a life as a couple.

We spend almost every night together anyway, and I hate the time we spend apart.” This was it.

The moment Marcus had specifically prepared me for.

Once I moved in with Derek, the real psychological and physical abuse would begin in earnest.

He’d have me isolated from outside support, under his direct control, and he’d start revealing his true nature.

“Derek, I…” I let my voice sound uncertain and slightly overwhelmed,

like I was processing the magnitude of what he was suggesting.

“I know it’s a huge step,” he said quickly, misinterpreting my hesitation as nervousness rather than calculation.

“But Grace, I’m completely in love with you.

I want to wake up next to you every morning, I want to build something real and lasting together.” I took a deep

breath, like I was gathering courage to make a major life decision.

“I love you too, Derek.

Yes, absolutely.

Let’s do it.” Derek’s smile was triumphant and predatory.

He thought he’d just successfully landed the catch of a lifetime – a wealthy,

naive young woman who was ready to hand over her entire life to him.

He had absolutely no idea what was actually coming for him.