What is The Danish Deception?

In the glittering world of social media and reality TV, stories of whirlwind romances often captivate us, promising happily ever afters amid exotic backdrops. But what happens when the prince turns out to be a pauper in disguise, wielding deception as his crown? This is the essence of "The Danish Deception," a harrowing saga shared by Onyeka Ehie, a Nigerian-American former contestant on ABC's The Bachelor (Season 23) and Bachelor in Paradise (Season 6). Onyeka, often affectionately called by variants of her name like Oyinka in some cultural contexts (though her full name is Onyeka Ehie), took to TikTok in November 2025 to unravel a 27-part series detailing how she was scammed out of over $300,000 by her ex-husband, Martin Fredsgaard Andersen, a white Danish man who posed as royalty. This story isn't just about one woman's heartbreak; it's a mirror to societal flaws where racial prejudices make exploitation easier. As we navigate this, remember: scams thrive in the shadows of trust, amplified by biases that blind us to red flags.

 Onyeka Ehie's account begins in June 2022, during a solo vacation in Croatia. As a successful 31-year-old Nigerian-American IT professional from Dallas, Texas, she was enjoying the sun-soaked beaches when she met Martin Fredsgaard Andersen at a vibrant party. Tall, charming, and exuding European sophistication, Martin introduced himself as a member of Danish royalty—descended from a low-key aristocratic family that shunned the spotlight. He claimed to be a former Olympic handball player, with tales of athletic glory and family estates back home. Their connection was instant: flirtatious banter led to exchanged Instagram handles, and soon, Martin was bombarding her with messages, professing an irresistible pull toward her.

In Onyeka's telling, the romance escalated rapidly. Martin invited her to join him in Monaco and Cannes, France, footing the bill for first-class flights and luxurious accommodations. It was during this trip that intimacy blossomed. One night, after a romantic dinner, Onyeka—emboldened by wine—confessed her love. In a dramatic twist, she tumbled down stairs, injuring herself and, in a moment of vulnerability, urinating from shock. Martin cradled her, whispering "I love you too" as paramedics arrived. This incident, raw and unfiltered in her videos, cemented her belief in his sincerity. "It felt like a movie," Onyeka recounted in Part 1 of her series, her voice cracking with hindsight regret.

Back in the U.S., Onyeka shared the news with her tight-knit Nigerian family. Her parents, immigrants who valued stability, were initially wary of this "white prince" from afar but warmed up after Martin visited Dallas. He charmed everyone with gifts, stories of his Danish properties (including rental buildings and a family home), and promises of a future together. Onyeka described him as attentive, supportive, and culturally sensitive—learning Yoruba phrases and embracing her heritage.The long-distance phase brought the first cracks, though Onyeka didn't see them then. Martin mentioned cash flow issues tied to his investments, subtly planting seeds of need. He claimed his father's sudden death, followed by an uncle's, left him emotionally drained. Then came health woes: two herniated discs requiring surgery, and an electrical fire in one of his "rental properties" costing $50,000 to repair. Onyeka, empathetic and in love, offered financial help. She wired money to "fix" the building so he could visit her sooner. "I thought I was investing in our future," she explained in Part 5.

By late 2022, they were planning marriage. Martin proposed with a ring they shopped for together, and they consulted immigration lawyers for his green card. Onyeka's mother raised a flag: Why hadn't Martin's parents met her? But Onyeka brushed it off, attributing it to cultural differences. They wed in a modest Dallas courthouse ceremony—Onyeka in a simple Fashion Nova dress, no royal fanfare. Post-marriage, Martin moved to Texas, but the deceptions intensified.Onyeka detailed how Martin encouraged her to quit her high-paying job for real estate, promising to support her. He "sold" his Danish house for $250,000, investing it in a friend's plumbing business—at her urging. Then came tax troubles: He claimed the Danish IRS owed him $318,000 but froze his assets amid audits. Desperate, he borrowed from Onyeka—$15,000 for his taxes (after she hesitated over her own), $3,000 to repay a friend, and more for "escrow" on a building sale. Vacations in Cabo were charged to her credit cards, ballooning her debt. In total, Onyeka lent him $31,000 directly, plus encouraged the $250,000 investment that vanished.The unraveling started Christmas 2023. A mutual friend revealed Martin's gambling addiction. He had borrowed $200,000 from another couple (Mr. and Mrs. Watch) for a "watch-selling business," funneling it into crypto gambling. Onyeka hired a private investigator, who exposed lies:

 No Olympic record, the "Danish house" photo was from Germany, no royal ties.

 Confronted, Martin denied at first, then sobbed, admitting relapse but promising change. Onyeka, still hopeful, enrolled him in Gamblers Anonymous and therapy.

But relapses followed. Martin gambled away salaries, advances, and even $7,000 from her credit card. He yelled about unhappiness in the marriage, stormed out, and fled to Denmark. Onyeka discovered he had secretly borrowed from her family—$10,000 from her mother (claimed "sent" but never arrived), $3,000 from her sister (unrepaid). Contacting his "friends" and family revealed a web of scams: His sister confirmed no properties, fake royalty, and a history of conning people, including fleeing to Shanghai from loan sharks. An ex-girlfriend disclosed a seven-year overlap relationship, with Martin stealing from her circle too. Another victim was suing him for $30,000.

By 2025, Onyeka filed for divorce, finalized November 4. Martin sent AI-generated loving texts post-separation, but she blocked him. In a chilling finale, he appeared in a black SUV outside her home, saying "Hey baby," prompting her to scream until he drove off. Onyeka gathered evidence from victims to pursue prosecution, emphasizing in her videos how she ignored red flags due to love and cultural allure.This version paints Martin as a master manipulator, using fabricated crises (deaths, health issues, tax freezes) to extract funds while hiding addictions and lies. Onyeka's narrative is one of gradual entrapment, fueled by emotional investment.

Martin's "version" isn't a cohesive public statement—he hasn't responded formally to Onyeka's series, likely to avoid legal scrutiny. Instead, we piece it together from Onyeka's recollections of confrontations, texts, and revelations from his associates. In essence, Martin portrayed himself as a victim of circumstances, downplaying deceptions while shifting blame.

From the start, Martin claimed a life of quiet privilege: Danish royalty avoiding media, Olympic handball star (he said he competed in the 2012 London Games, a lie debunked by records), and successful real estate investor with multiple properties. He denied any ulterior motives in pursuing Onyeka, insisting it was genuine love at first sight in Croatia. During their romance, he presented "evidence"—photos of a luxurious home (later revealed as German stock images), stories of family estates, and promises of wealth once "tied-up funds" freed. When financial requests began, Martin framed them as temporary setbacks. The property fire? A real emergency, he said, backed by fake invoices. Tax issues? Bureaucratic Danish IRS delays, with hearings he "attended" virtually. He denied gambling initially, claiming past rehab cured it. When confronted with the $200,000 debt to friends, he admitted but blamed "bad investments" in crypto, not addiction.

In heated arguments, Martin denied owing specific sums—like the $10,000 to Onyeka's mother, insisting wires were sent (bank records showed otherwise). He yelled about feeling trapped in the marriage, accusing Onyeka of pressuring him into the $250,000 investment. Post-relapse, when left with 34 cents, he cried and promised repayment plans, attending one Gamblers Anonymous meeting before ghosting.

His family and ex provided indirect insights into his pattern. His sister described him as a chronic liar with scam history, fleeing debts. The ex said he always denied overlaps, claiming breakups were mutual. Post-divorce, Martin's texts were pleading: "I love you, this is all a misunderstanding," generated via ChatGPT for emotional manipulation. Ultimately, Martin's version collapses under scrutiny—no royalty, no Olympics, no assets. It's a classic scammer's playbook: Deny, deflect, disappear. Without his direct rebuttal, it underscores how perpetrators evade accountability.

The Danish Deception is no isolated incident; it's part of a pervasive pattern where white men and women perpetrate scams on ethnic minorities, leveraging racial biases for easier exploitation. Romance scams, investment frauds, and emotional manipulations thrive in this space, with data showing disproportionate targeting of Black, Latino, and Asian communities.

Types of scams include:

1. Romance Scams: Like Martin's, where perpetrators pose as affluent partners, using dating apps or social media to build trust before requesting money for "emergencies." AARP reports 40% of Black and Latino adults targeted, with 20% losing money . White scammers often exploit stereotypes—portraying themselves as "exotic" saviors or stable providers, tapping into minority desires for interracial validation amid societal biases.
2. Investment Fraud: Martin encouraged the $250,000 "plumbing business" investment, a common ploy. FTC data shows minorities more vulnerable due to lower financial literacy access, exacerbated by systemic racism .
3. Advance-Fee and Emergency Scams: Fake crises (e.g., tax freezes) extract funds. In cross-border cases, white perpetrators from Europe or North America target ethnic immigrants, using cultural isolation.

Why easier on ethnic people? Racial bias plays a key role. Psychological studies highlight "racialized sexual discrimination" (RSD) in dating, where minorities face rejection on apps, making affirming attention from white suitors more enticing. This vulnerability stems from implicit bias: White perpetrators exploit "exoticism," fetishizing ethnic traits while assuming minorities are "grateful" or less suspicious due to historical power dynamics.

Society attributes scams to victims' "naivety," ignoring structural racism . For ethnic victims, this intersects with stereotypes—e.g., Black women seen as "strong" but "gullible" in love.Medical and Psychological References:

• Psychological Impacts: Victims experience severe distress, including depression (28% of scam victims), anxiety, and low self-esteem. The American Psychological Association notes scams trigger "betrayal trauma," akin to PTSD, with hypervigilance and isolation . In ethnic contexts, this compounds racial trauma, per studies on RSD linking it to poor mental health.
• Medical Effects: Research from RUSH University shows fraud victims, especially older men, face long-term hypertension . A 2024 Feedzai study links scams to chronic anxiety, disrupting sleep and immune function . For minorities, this exacerbates health disparities; NCBI reports Black adults under higher stress from bias, amplifying scam-induced cortisol spikes [web:0, though noting lower susceptibility in some cases, vulnerability persists due to targeting].
• Cognitive Biases: Scammers exploit "authority" and "liking" biases . Ethnic victims may overlook red flags due to "similarity bias" inversion—trusting white "authority" figures amid internalized racism.

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These references underscore how racial bias not only facilitates scams but prolongs recovery, with victims facing compounded shame.

To elaborate, consider the multifaceted ways white perpetrators exploit ethnic victims:

• Cultural Fetishization in Romance Scams: White scammers often use platforms like Tinder or Instagram, where algorithms perpetuate racial preferences . A Harvard study shows dating sites "automate sexual racism," pushing minorities toward fewer matches, making a white suitor's attention feel validating. In Onyeka's case, Martin's "royal" allure played on aspirations for interracial success, blinding her to inconsistencies.
• Economic Exploitation via Investment: White fraudsters pose as "mentors" or partners, promising wealth. BBB research indicates minorities with lower education (due to systemic barriers) are more victimized . Martin's fake investments mirror this, targeting Onyeka's trust in his "European stability."
• Emotional and Psychological Manipulation: Using "love bombing," scammers build rapid intimacy. Psychological tactics include urgency (e.g., crises) to bypass rational thinking . For ethnic victims, this intersects with "colonial retribution" narratives in some scams, but here it's reversed—white on ethnic .

Data from FTC shows Spanish-speakers targeted with loan scams , paralleling English-speaking minorities like Nigerians in the diaspora. Vulnerability models include socio-demographics and mental health , with minorities often isolated, increasing susceptibility .Psychologically, scams induce "dynamic emotional experiences": Early expectation and love shift to anger and despair . Medically, long-term effects include elevated blood pressure and depression, per Verywell Mind . FINRA notes empowerment post-trauma via education .This section alone highlights how racial bias—rooted in centuries of inequality—makes these scams "easier," as perpetrators assume ethnic victims are less likely to report due to stigma or distrust of authorities. 

Scammers trigger "scarcity" and "reciprocity" , but for ethnic victims, add "stereotype threat." Claude Steele's work on stereotype threat shows minorities underperform in trust scenarios due to bias fears, making them overcompensate in relationships. Emotional toll: Button et al. (2014) detail stress and anger . 

For Black women like Onyeka, this intersects with "strong Black woman" schema, delaying help-seeking .Medical: Elevated cortisol from scams leads to cardiovascular issues . NCBI studies on older Black adults show resilience but higher emotional impact when victimized .

Victimization risks: Personality traits like openness increase susceptibility, but routine internet use (common in minorities for social connection) heightens exposure.

In sum, these references validate how racial bias amplifies scam success and harm.

To empower readers, here are three evidence-based solutions:

1. Verify Identity and Stories Independently: Use reverse image searches on photos (e.g., Google Images) and background checks via sites like BeenVerified. In Onyeka's case, a PI revealed lies early. Psychological tip: Combat confirmation bias by seeking disconfirming evidence .
2. Never Send Money or Share Financial Info: Scammers always ask for funds—emergencies, investments, etc. FTC advises: If they request wire transfers or gift cards, it's a scam. Solution: Set a "no-money" rule in new relationships.
3. Watch for Red Flags and Consult Trusted Networks: Inconsistencies (e.g., changing stories), isolation from family, or too-quick love declarations signal danger. Share details with friends/family for objective views. AARP recommends scam education to reduce vulnerability .

Useful Numbers to Alert AuthoritiesIf you suspect a scam:

• Ghana: Contact the Cyber Security Authority (CSA) at 292 (call/SMS) or WhatsApp 0501603111. For economic crimes, Economic and Organised Crime Office (EOCO) at +233 (0) 302 665 401.
• USA: Report to the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) at 1-877-FTC-HELP (1-877-382-4357) or ftc.gov/complaint. For cyber fraud, Internet Crime Complaint Center (IC3) at ic3.gov.
• Canada: Canadian Anti-Fraud Centre at 1-888-495-8501 or antifraudcentre-centreantifraude.ca.
• United Kingdom: Action Fraud at 0300 123 2040 or actionfraud.police.uk.

Onyeka's story, contrasted with Martin's denials, highlights how racial dynamics fuel exploitation. By understanding psychological and medical tolls, we can better protect ourselves.In the words of Australian Aboriginal wisdom, as echoed in Dreamtime stories warning against trickery: 

"Beware the clever crow who steals the light, for deception hides in the feathers of promise." 

Let this serve as a timeless caution—stay vigilant, for scams prey on the unwary.

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Author

Campbell Kitts