Life as a single mom was never easy, but I made it work for my daughter, Ivy. When I met Rowan, he seemed like the love I’d been waiting for—attentive, helpful, and warm. Ivy, home from college, didn’t trust him from the start. I brushed off her concerns, desperate to believe I’d finally found a good man.

Then one night, Ivy vanished. Rowan claimed she “needed space,” but something felt off. When I finally reached her, she told me the truth: he’d found her snooping in his office—she’d discovered forged loan applications in my name. He’d threatened her and thrown her out.

Ivy sent photos of the evidence. My hands trembled as I stared at documents that looked like my signature—but weren’t. I froze our accounts, called my lawyer, and when Rowan walked in that evening, the police were already on their way. I told him one thing as they cuffed him: “You don’t get to steal from me and hurt my daughter.”

Now, Ivy’s home. We’re healing. And I’ve met the other women Rowan conned—each of us strong, smart, and blindsided. We’ve started our own support group, reminding each other we’re more than victims—we’re survivors. I don’t regret loving him. I regret not listening to my daughter sooner. But I will never make that mistake again.