This morning, I received a brief phone call that immediately felt… off.
The connection was poor, the accent was thick, and the message was hard to follow. What I eventually gathered was that the caller claimed to be from a company that helps people recover money lost in investment scams — specifically cryptocurrency scams. He wanted to walk me through signing up for something during the call.
That was the moment I put the brakes on.
I told him I wouldn’t do anything live and that if this was legitimate, he could email me the information. I’ve learned — professionally and personally — that pressure combined with “guided help” is rarely a good sign. If something is real, it can survive being slowed down.
The email arrived shortly after.
At first glance, it looked polished and professional. Calm tone. Clear structure. Reassuring language. The kind of email that’s meant to lower your guard rather than raise alarms. But as I read it more carefully, something important clicked: this wasn’t help. It was another attempt to capitalise on vulnerability.
A Second Layer of Scamming
There’s a lesser-known phenomenon that doesn’t get talked about enough: once someone has been scammed, their information often circulates. Those lists are then used to target people again — this time by individuals or companies claiming they can recover what was lost.
These are sometimes called recovery scams or secondary scams, and they rely on something very human: the wish to make things right.
I noticed several things in the email that didn’t sit well with me:
- It suggested I had an “active refund case” that I never opened.
- The company name sounded regulatory, borrowing authority from terms like “AML,” even though Anti-Money Laundering is a framework, not a recovery service.
- It proposed the use of remote access software so someone could “guide” me through the process — something that is widely abused by scammers and never necessary for legitimate financial recovery.
- It offered to help set up wallets and manage steps on my behalf.
- There were no verifiable credentials: no jurisdiction, no registration, no regulator, no court process.
None of these on their own might seem decisive. Together, they told a very familiar story.
What struck me most was how reasonable it all sounded. Modern scams are rarely chaotic or overtly threatening. They’re calm. They’re procedural. They’re patient. And they’re designed to make you doubt your own caution.
Slowing Down Is Not Paranoia
I didn’t reply. I didn’t click anything. I didn’t install software or provide documents. Instead, I stopped and took a breath.
That pause mattered.
There’s a quiet psychological cost to being scammed that doesn’t get acknowledged very often: people start second-guessing their judgement, or feel embarrassed for being cautious later. I want to be clear about this — caution is not paranoia. It’s discernment.
And on that note, something unexpected happened later in the day.
A Small but Real Win
Out of curiosity, I tried visiting the original Smart Reserve Holdings website.
It’s shut down.
That doesn’t undo what happened, and it doesn’t magically restore what was lost. But it does matter. It means the operation has been disrupted. It means fewer people may be harmed. And it quietly confirms that this wasn’t a misunderstanding or poor judgement — it was a fraudulent system that couldn’t withstand scrutiny.
For me, that matters psychologically. These moments help counter the internal narrative that nothing changes, or that speaking up doesn’t matter. Change often happens slowly, invisibly, and sideways — but it does happen.
Why I’m Writing This
I’m sharing this because recovery scams thrive in silence and shame. If even one person reads this and decides to slow down, ask for written information, or trust their discomfort, then this experience has already been transformed into something useful.
This isn’t closure. But it is confirmation.
And for today, that’s enough.
A Taylor'd Life 