One moment, she’s sipping champagne in Paris, the next, she’s fleeing for her life. Rachel’s fairytale date in the City of Love spirals into a nightmare when she discovers her dreamy boyfriend’s sinister past. Can she escape before she’s next?
Do you believe in love at first sight? I know, I know… it’s a bit cliché, but I couldn’t help but wonder. I’m Rachel, a 30-year-old woman living her American dream in downtown Chicago. My life was simple—wake up, go to work, grab a coffee from the local shop, and occasionally indulge in a good book. That was until Robert walked into my life…
I met him at a charming little bookstore I frequented. We both reached for the same copy of “Pride and Prejudice”—classic, right? Our eyes met, and we both laughed.
“Well, this is quite the meet-cute,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I’m Robert.”
“Rachel,” I replied, feeling a flutter in my stomach. “Are you a Jane Austen fan?”
“Guilty as charged,” he chuckled. “Though I must admit, Darcy Burke sets a rather high bar for us mere mortals.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, surprising myself with my boldness as I picked a book from the shelf. “I think there’s something to be said for modern-day charm.”
We chatted for nearly an hour, discovering shared interests and laughing at each other’s jokes. As we were about to part ways, Robert hesitated.
“I know this might seem forward,” he said, “but would you like to grab a coffee sometime? I know a great little place around the corner.”
I felt my heart skip a beat. “I’d love to,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.
From that moment, things just clicked. We exchanged numbers, and before I knew it, we were texting every day.
“Hey, Rachel, ever been to Paris?” Robert asked one evening after weeks of chatting.
“Only in my dreams,” I replied, chuckling. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice filled with excitement. “We’ve been talking for weeks, and I feel like I’ve known you forever. But we haven’t actually been on a proper date yet.”
“That’s true,” I said, my curiosity piqued. “What did you have in mind?”
“How about making that dream a reality? Come with me. Let’s have our first date in Paris.”
I was stunned. “Paris? For a first date? Are you serious?”
“Absolutely,” Robert replied. “Life’s too short for ordinary, don’t you think? We could spend a weekend there, see the sights, eat amazing food. What do you say?”
I hesitated, my mind racing. “That sounds incredible, but… isn’t it a bit much for a first date? We barely know each other.”
“I understand your hesitation,” Robert said softly. “But think about it… we’ve been talking every day for weeks. We know each other better than most people do on a first date. It’s just a chance to get to know each other better in a magical setting.”
His words were persuasive, and the allure of an adventure was too strong to resist. “You know what? You’re right. Let’s do it!”
“Really?” Robert sounded elated as he kissed my hand. “You won’t regret this, Rachel. It’ll be amazing, I promise.”
Soon, the day of our departure arrived. When I met Robert at the airport, he greeted me with the most stunning bouquet of red roses I’d ever seen. It felt surreal. He looked genuinely happy, and his eyes sparkled with excitement.
“Ready for an adventure to remember?” he asked, smiling.
“As ready as I’ll ever be!” I chuckled. “I still can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“Neither can I,” Robert admitted. “But I’m so glad we are. You look beautiful, by the way.”
I felt myself blush. “Thank you. You look great, too!”
The flight was smooth, and before I knew it, we were in Paris.
Robert called a taxi, and we went straight to this swanky restaurant. The place was fancy, with chandeliers and a pianist playing softly in the corner.
“This place is incredible,” I said, looking around in awe. “How did you find it?”
Robert smiled mysteriously. “I have my ways. I wanted our first date to be unforgettable.”
Hours melted away as we talked, champagne bubbles tickling our noses. We savored an exquisite meal, our laughter echoing between bites as we shared stories. For a moment, it felt like a fairytale.
When the bill came, Robert insisted on paying. “It’ll make me happy if you let me,” he said, his eyes earnest.
“Are you sure?” I asked. “It must be expensive.”
“Absolutely,” he replied as he paid the bill. “Tonight is my treat. You can get the next one,” he added with a wink.
“Alright, thank you,” I said, excusing myself to the restroom.
In the restroom, I was fixing my makeup when a woman approached me. She looked serious, almost scared.
“You need to leave, now,” she said, her voice low and urgent.
“What? Why?” I asked, confused. “Who are you?”
“My name is Cindy,” she replied, glancing nervously at the door. “I’m a detective from the States. Robert isn’t who he seems.”
“What are you talking about?” I demanded, feeling a pang of fear and disbelief.
“I’ve been tracking him,” Cindy continued. “He’s brought at least eight women to this restaurant in the past six months. Some went missing, others lost their jobs and disappeared. You could be next.”
My heart pounded. “This is crazy. How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“I know this is hard to believe, but you need to trust me on this. Block his number and leave,” she desperately added, frowning.
I felt a wave of fear and disbelief. “But he’s been so kind… and genuine. Are you sure you have the right person?”
“I’m positive,” Cindy insisted. “Men like Robert are experts at appearing charming. It’s how they lure their victims. Please, for your own safety, you need to go.”
Without saying another word, I nodded, blocked Robert’s number on my phone, and rushed back to the table. Robert looked up, puzzled.
“I’m sorry, I have to go,” I said, my voice trembling.
“Go?? Rachel, what’s going on?” he asked, standing up. “You look pale. Are you feeling alright?”
“I can’t explain. Don’t try to find me,” I said, turning and heading for the door.
“Rachel, wait!” Robert called after me. “Please, tell me what’s wrong. Did I do something?”
I got into a taxi and told the driver to take me to the airport. Sitting in the back seat, I finally began to calm down. Cindy’s words echoed in my mind. Was Robert really dangerous?
When I arrived at the airport, my stomach dropped. Robert was there, waiting for me.
“Please, Rachel, talk to me,” he said, approaching me cautiously. “What did I do wrong?”
“This trip was a mistake. Just leave me alone,” I said, trying to stay calm.
“It’s all because of her, isn’t it?” he asked, his face etched with anger and sadness.
“Who?” I was genuinely confused.
“A woman around thirty, blonde hair, flower tattoo on her right arm? Name’s Cindy.”
“Yes, she said she’s a detective. Is that true?” I gasped.
Robert’s face fell. “She’s not a detective,” he confessed. “She’s my ex-girlfriend. She’s been obsessed with me… stalking me for two years, ruining my relationships. I didn’t tell you because I thought it was over. I’m so sorry.”
I didn’t know what to believe. “You should have told me about her. Now I’m scared and can’t trust you.”
“I understand,” Robert said softly. “I made a mistake by not being honest with you. I was afraid that if I told you about Cindy, you’d think I was damaged goods or something. I really like you, Rachel, and I didn’t want to scare you away.”
“But now I’m more scared than ever,” I replied, feeling tears well up in my eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” Robert said, reaching out but stopping short of touching me. “Please, let me help you get back to the States. You can take the ticket I bought. I’ll stay here and come back tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, still wary.
“Absolutely,” he nodded. “Your safety and comfort are what matter most to me right now. I hope that one day, when you’re back home and feeling safe, you’ll give me a chance to explain everything properly.”
On the flight home, I couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened. Who was telling the truth?
Once I was back in Chicago, I decided to find out more about Robert and Cindy.
I contacted a private detective. Over the next few days, I found some of the women Robert had dated. They were alive and well but confirmed that Cindy had harassed them, forcing them to quit their jobs and disappear from Robert’s life.
This supported Robert’s story, but I still had doubts.
One evening, my phone rang. It was an unknown number.
“Hello?” I nervously answered.
“It’s Cindy. Robert is dangerous. I’m just trying to protect you,” a woman spoke.
“Cindy? How did you get my number?” I asked, my heart racing.
“That’s not important,” she replied urgently. “What matters is that you understand the danger you’re in.”
I listened as she detailed Robert’s supposed manipulations and sent me a file of disturbing information about his past.
“But why should I believe you?” I asked. “The other women I spoke to said you were the one harassing them.”
“They’re afraid of him,” Cindy insisted. “Robert has a way of making people believe whatever he wants them to. Please, you have to trust me.”
Unsure of who to believe, I agreed to meet Cindy at a café. She seemed sincere and provided more evidence against Robert.
But a shiver ran down my spine as I listened. Despite her convincing story, a shadow of doubt lingered. My gut told me Robert held the missing piece.
I decided to confront him.
He looked genuinely distressed and denied everything, showing me a restraining order he had against Cindy.
“Rachel, I know this whole situation is confusing and scary,” Robert said. “But I swear to you, I’ve never hurt anyone. Cindy is the one who’s been causing all this trouble. I should have told you about her from the beginning, and I’m sorry I didn’t.”
“But why would she go to such lengths?” I asked, still uncertain.
“She… she has some mental health issues,” Robert explained hesitantly. “When we broke up, she couldn’t accept it. She became obsessed with the idea that I was some kind of predator. I’ve tried to get her help, but she refused.”
As I reflected on the situation, it became clear that Robert and Cindy each held their own perspective on the truth. The actual reality, I suspected, lay somewhere in the middle of their conflicting narratives.
Recognizing the potential danger to my well-being, I decided to cut ties with both of them.
During our last exchange, I mustered up the courage to tell Robert, “I’m afraid I can’t continue being a part of this, Robert. The situation has become far too intricate and perplexing for me to handle.”
With those words, Robert and I went our separate ways.
This whirlwind experience served as a powerful lesson in the importance of trusting my gut instincts and exercising caution when allowing new people into my life.
While the dream trip to Paris had been thrilling, it also served as a sobering reminder that appearances can be deceiving. I learned that sometimes, the wisest course of action to protect yourself is to walk away from trouble.
Michael Jackson’s only daughter Paris proud of African-American roots, identifies as black
Paris Jackson, the only daughter of late pop star Michael Jackson, opened up about her African-American roots and how proud she is of that, as well as the criticism she received.
Paris, 25, was born to parents Billie Jean hitmaker and Debbie Rowe in 1998.
Over the years, there have been speculations that Jackson wasn’t the biological father of his three children, Paris and her two brothers, Bigi, 22, and Prince, 27. This was due to the fact that that many couldn’t see any resemblance between the late star and the kids, especially Paris who has white skin, light eyes and now bleached-blond hair.
The kids were very close with their father who went to great lengths to protect them from media scrutiny. His measures were unlike, however. He would show his son Bigi to the public with his face covered with a blanket, causing him troubles while growing up because his friends often teased him. He now prefers to be called Bigi.
Following the star’s death in 2009, his children were tossed alone in the public eye, turning them a highly profitable prey for the media that were eager to share their photos and followed their every step.
This experience left Paris battling a post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
“I experience audio hallucinations, sometimes, with camera clicks and severe paranoia and have been going to therapy for a lot of things, but that included,” she shared.
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By age 15, Paris attempted suicide “multiple times” and in 2019 she was admitted at a treatment facility. “It was just self-hatred…Low self-esteem, thinking that I couldn’t do anything right, not thinking I was worthy of living anymore.”
Today, she’s a successful musician who follows into her father’s footsteps. Over the years, she has also walked the runway for famous brands such as Chanel. Paris is a member of the band The Soundflowers.
“Everyone in my family does music. I mean, I’m a Jackson,” she said in 2020. “It makes sense that I’m a musician but like, a Jackson doing folk indie?”
Paris is very close to her brothers and looks up to Prince. “He’s everything to me, you know?” In 2020, she told People of her relationship with her older brother. “I’ve always looked up to him and always wanted his approval and everything, and wanted to be more like him.”
He loves and supports his younger sister as much. “Basically, as a person, she is who my dad is. The only thing that’s different would be her age and her gender,” he said of Paris, adding that she’s similar to her father “in all of her strengths, and almost all of her weaknesses as well. She’s very passionate.”
The physical appearance of the King of Pop underwent significant changes over the course of his life and many accused him of bleaching his skin, which was considerably darker in his younger days, but he claimed he had never done anything to his skin and that it turning white was a result of Vitiligo, during an Oprah interview in 1993.
“I am proud of my race. I am proud of who I am,” Jackson told Winfrey at the time.
Back in 2017, speaking of herself, Paris told Rolling Stone magazine she “considers [herself] black,” and that “[Michael] would look me in the eyes and he’d point his finger at me and he’d be like, ‘You’re black. Be proud of your roots.’”
“Most people that don’t know me call me white. I’ve got light skin and, especially since I’ve had my hair blond, I look like I was born in Finland or something,” she said. “And I’d be like, ‘okay, he’s my dad, why would he lie to me?’ So I just believe what he told me. [Because], to my knowledge, he’s never lied to me.”
This declaration of race triggered criticism on Paris. Among the rest, it was host Wendy William’s that mocked Paris’ statement.
“I get that she considers herself black and everything, but I’m just talking about the visual because you know…black is not what you call yourself, it’s what the cops see you when they got steel to your neck on the turnpike.”
She added: “It’s what they see. But that’s cute and good for her.”
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