Chapter 4

"Pull over at the next gas station!" Jen yelled, her eyes wild. "I need to buy my tickets!"

She screeched into the parking lot of a grimy roadside station and ran inside. I stayed in the car, watching her through the window. She went to the counter and started pointing frantically at the rolls of scratch-off lottery tickets. I saw her pull a thick wad of cash from her purse-her entire life savings, probably around $5,000-and slap it on the counter. The clerk started tearing off ticket after ticket.

This was my chance.

I got out of the car, walked to the side of the road, and called an Uber.

Then I called my office.

"Hi, it's Gabrielle Johns. I need to speak with Mr. Harrison's assistant, please."

A moment later, a familiar voice was on the line. "Gabrielle! We were just about to call you. Mr. Harrison has a few final questions about the material specifications on the atrium design."

I smiled. This was the call. In the last timeline, I missed it because I was on the road to the lake house. My boss had to handle it, but it delayed the project. This time, I was ready.

"Of course," I said, my voice calm and professional. I spent the next twenty minutes walking her through every detail, citing manufacturer codes and cost-benefit analyses from memory.

When I hung up, my Uber was pulling up. As it drove away, I saw Jen through the gas station window, frantically scratching tickets, a mountain of silver dust piling up on the counter around her. Her face was contorted in a mask of confusion and rage.

She hadn't won a single dollar.

I settled back into the seat of the Uber and headed back to Chicago. An hour later, my phone rang. It was my boss.

"Gabrielle, whatever you just did, it worked. Harrison just signed off. The project is a go. Come see me Monday morning. We need to talk about your promotion."

I closed my eyes, a wave of relief washing over me. My future was back on track. My future. Not hers.