The evening began like any other first date. We sat in a cozy booth, golden light flickering across the table. My date introduced himself as Deacon—confident, charming, full of stories about his fitness routines and entrepreneurial dreams. He carried himself like someone who had done this many times before.
When the bill came, the waitress quietly placed it on the table and said, “Sir, your card was declined.”
His face faltered, though he quickly covered it with a laugh. I reached for my purse, ready to help, but what happened next changed everything.
As we left, the waitress brushed past me, pressed a receipt into my hand, and whispered: “I lied.”
My heart raced. When I looked at the receipt, I saw two hurriedly written words: BE CAREFUL.
Back inside, I asked her what she meant. She explained that the man I was with often came in with different women, and that she had overheard troubling stories. She wanted to make sure I stayed safe.
That night, curiosity and instinct pushed me to look deeper. A few searches later, I discovered his real name wasn’t Deacon. It was something else entirely. And more unsettling still, there were online discussions from other women in my city describing similar encounters.
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