Page 4 of Invade Me

Me, Storm Nolan—once a proud and successful matchmaker—had, more than half a year ago, landed myself in this mess. A job that involved getting paid to assault people—or at least do weird things to them.

As strange as it sounded, it wasn’t some cheap marketing gimmick—it was an accurate job description. And, of course, it wasn’t exactly my dream career, despite the ironic name, Dark Dreams.Still, working in a place this controversial was the only way I could claw my way out of my dreadful financial shithole.

My story was pretty grim.

I ended up here after my life took a bizarre turn: I was falsely accused of rape by my own ex-husband and hit rock bottom because of it.

Before the shit hit the fan and everything spectacularly fell apart, I had a pretty good, stable life. I worked at a matchmaking agency called Fate’s Choice and genuinely took pride in what I did. Despite having a background in both law and psychology—a pretty promising combo—I’d chosen a path where I could actually make people happy by helping them find their perfectmatches. Pairing people up was my favorite thing, and honestly, I was pretty good at it, getting better with each passing month. On top of that, I had a very attractive husband and felt like Fate had been kind to me.

Some could say this job was boring for a purple alpha. A matchmaker? Sounded like something an old, gray-haired beta uncle would do on his nephews’ birthdays to the annoyance of everyone.

During college, I’d worked part-time as a security guard at Fate’s Choice. Once a week, they held marital contract auctions and fairs. I used to work at these events and enjoyed watching the glass booths where omegas, betas, and alphas sat, waiting for their marriage contracts to be bought. I felt a strange thrill whenever someone found their Half or High Mate.

Of course, that was just one part of Fate's Choice’s services. Their main business was something more traditional: a classic matchmaking agency where people filled out lengthy forms detailing their preferences. From there, specialist matchmakers worked diligently to help them find their ideal contract husbands.

Over the years, I got to know the company and grew fond of the idea of working there, watching happy couples come together, paired by skilled matchmakers. So, when a junior client assistant role opened up, I jumped at the chance.

Right after graduating from college, I started there full-time. For the first year, I just helped with the selection process for senior client assistants. Eventually, I began handling my own cases and making matches myself, with a few impressive successes—even finding High Mates within our client base. Unfortunately, that winning streak didn’t last long.

Everything crashed down three months after my promotion when my husband started an affair. I caught him with his lover, and things escalated quickly. I confronted Tom, but I didn’ttouch him; still, he thought he could gain from the situation by filing a false accusation against me.

Even though I defended myself and cleared my name, my reputation took a major hit. Because of my husband’s somewhat celebrity status as a model, it became public. Most of my family distanced themselves from me, and even my then-boss—Mr. Ren Ragu—explained that he couldn’t keep an employee with a ‘damaged reputation’. In his opinion, a scandal surrounding me could be detrimental to the public image of his young company.

Then he kindly suggested an alternative.

His own husband, Mr. Jun Ragu, owned a well-established venture called Dark Dreams, which offered a very different set of services. Mr. Ren assured me I could smoothly switch to his husband’s company, where my reputation wouldn’t be as much of a liability—after all, Dark Dreams dealt in some rather controversial activities.

They specialized in role-playing services for people with all kinds of kinks. Dark Dreams offered stalker scenarios, home-invasion setups, fulfillment of consensual-non-consent and BDSM fantasies.

Most of my friends and family were shocked; the only one who really got it was my cousin Nathaniel, but he was one of a kind. For most people, assault—whether consensual or not—just felt… wrong. And that’s precisely why Dark Dreams’ clients sought discretion; they feared they’d be criticized for their unusual kinks.

The company didn’t look down on them; it didn’t ask why. It just asked, "What would you like, sir?" and handed them a bill.

To be fair, they didn’t deal with anything extreme like life-threatening torture, killing, or minors. But almost everything else? Fair game.

And… the job paid well! Since I was too proud to ask my parents for help—Mr. Jun Ragu’s offer came at just the right time to change the course of my life.

Despite being innocent of the main thing—I got off on the false rape charge—I couldn’t avoid the consequences of other things: destruction of property and ‘emotional abuse’. True—when I saw Tom fucking that guy, I trashed his car, smashed a few windows, and—my biggest mistake—I threw his nest out the balcony… So, Tom seized the opportunity and claimed I’d caused him ‘enormous suffering’, even saying that the violence was a daily occurrence. The fucker showed up at the police station covered in bruises!

That's how I became the villain… or rather, the victim of his lies, manipulation, and defamation. There was nothing I could do, his lawyer was smooth, and the jury ate it up. The settlement took all my savings—and more, leaving my finances in ruins.

Being a purple alpha didn’t help either—most of the jury were betas or omegas, so I had even less sympathy. They looked at me as if to say, "Purple alphas are violent and brutal". My twisted ex knew how to play it; he hunched over and sobbed right there, creating a believable, Oscar-worthy performance, easily convincing them I was the ‘cruel rapist’ he made me out to be.

And really, the worst thing I did to Tom was throw his fucking nest on the lawn. But they blew it all out of proportion, calling it a ‘disgusting assault on sacred omegan nature, a brutish and primitive act by a feral alpha’. I remembered the jury’s horrified faces so vividly.

But what about him impaling himself on a cock of some employee from his modeling agency?! They didn’t care about what I felt, for sure.

At one point during the trial, there was a real danger that the Omega Red Line Agency would take over my case. If thathad happened, not only would my ex have been able to take everything I owned, but I would have ended up in jail. So, in the final phase, I agreed to settle. My pricey downtown apartment, my savings—all of it went to Tom. I’d always been a saver (which he hated, preferring a more lavish lifestyle), working through college and living frugally, so losing it all was a brutal blow.

Tom was quite disappointed in our marriage, mainly because of that one thing—me being thrifty. He’d expected that marrying a purple alpha would mean a grand life of adventure, maybe even a boost to his modeling and acting career. Instead, he got me: a guy who chose a modest job as a junior assistant matchmaker. That mismatch led to endless arguments. He wanted me to be a stuntman in movies or take some big supporting role. He even dragged me to meet a stuntman manager once, but I wasn’t into it.

So, when Tom decided to end it, he made sure to grab as much as he could—basically, everything I had.

The only reason I was able to save my suburban house was that I took out a large short-term loan. I had bought the place at a bargain price, literally just days before Tom’s betrayal. Sure, it needed some work, but it was still an amazing deal. Tom demanded to take it as well, so I had to give him an equivalent amount in cash. Also, my cousin Nathaniel chipped in some money so I could at least buy a car—because Tom took my Jeep.

At the time I joined Dark Dreams, I was broke, surviving on cheap pizza, and deep in my full-on rebellion mode

Part of me knew exactly how this could ruin me—and my chances of finding a stable relationship or a decent love life in the future. But at that point, I didn’t care. Everyone was already calling me a rapist or, at best, a criminal, so I figured—why not lean into it? Maybe it was sick, but I was desperate, and this was how I coped.

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