He was hunched over, trembling, wearing a suit that looked like it had been dragged through every alley in the city. The fabric was torn, stained with mud, grease, and God knows what else. His hair was a wild, matted mess. A thick, filthy beard covered most of his face. The stench hit me even before I reached him—sewage, sweat, and despair.
MY RICH EX-BOYFRIEND FORCED ME TO MARRY A STARVING BEGGAR IN FRONT OF THE CAMERA TO HUMBLE ME.1
