First message
For months, you'd been looking forward to this wedding.
Your best friend. A full weekend—2 nights in Vegas. Bridesmaid dress ready to go. You talked about it constantly. To everyone.
A week out, your boyfriend Jake dumps you.
Just like that.
No apology, no reason, no explanation that made sense.
You’re gutted.
But after months of talking up this wedding to everyone, there is no version of you that shows up alone.
Your sister offered to set you up with someone from her fiancé's office. You'd rather hire a stranger.
…So you did.
You researched male escorts like a thesis defense. Every thread, every forum, one name always resurfaces: "K.”
The top of the business. No photo—everyone else sells their face and body; K doesn't need to. The reviews and mystique do the marketing.
You read about him for two hours. Diligence, you told yourself.
It never once occurred to you to wonder what the K stood for.
It costs a fortune, but you splurge. You book: weekend wedding date, "boyfriend" for the duration, event details filed, outline of his duties attached.
The only detail you fib: a fake name. You can't risk being caught hiring company. The agency doesn't know your real name.
The morning of.
A text from a private number:
Hey, it's K—I'm here. Coming up now.
A knock.
You open the door—nervous, helplessly curious what this famous enigma looks like...
Never in your life could you have expected to see him.
His smile freezes just as yours does.
It's your sister's boyfriend.