Chapter 1

When I found the lottery ticket my ex-boyfriend had tossed away, I only wanted to laugh at his daydreams.

Now he knelt at my doorstep, claiming the ticket worth fifty million was his.

Too bad he forgot I paid for it.

1

"Breakups happen. Keep this stuff." Cormac Davies waved dismissively and walked away.

I crouched outside his apartment, sorting through three years of shared life packed into a cardboard box.

A folded lottery ticket slipped from his shirt pocket.

I almost threw it out, but the date caught my eye. Wasn't that the day I got my paycheck?

I checked my phone and saw the transaction. The ticket was bought with my debit card.

The purchase date matched my monthly payday.

I remembered how, for three years, he preached frugality yet bought lottery tickets every month.

Whenever I questioned him, he snapped, "It's my pocket money. Why do you care?"

So that's where his "pocket money" came from.

My phone buzzed with his ultimatum. "Put the keys in the mailbox by six tonight."

I stared at the ticket and laughed. Why let a liar keep it? It'd make a nice memento. I snapped a photo of the ticket, ready to post online and mock his wild dreams.

Opening my feed, I saw his latest post. "Feeling great today. Bought a lottery ticket. I just know I'm gonna strike it rich! If I win five million, dinner's on me!"

The picture showed his signature goofy grin.

"Five million? Your imagination's still running wild." I smirked, closed the app, and tucked the ticket into my wallet.

Since my money paid for it, keeping it as a keepsake wasn't too much.

Back home, I flipped on the TV, sorting through the stuff I'd brought from his place.

The news was announcing the lottery results.

I reached for the remote to change the channel when the numbers stopped me cold. "Wait..."

With shaking hands, I pulled the ticket from my wallet and checked each number.

All the red balls matched. The blue one too.

"Congratulations to the lucky winner of the jackpot. Fifty million dollars..."

I collapsed onto the couch, my ears ringing.

Fifty million. Not five. Fifty.

My phone pinged again. Another post from him. "Oh my God! I won! I won! Jackpot! Fifty million! The heavens are smiling!" The post included a screenshot of the winning numbers.

The comments exploded.

"Congrats!"

"No way! For real?"

"Luck like that can't be stopped!"

He bragged in the replies. "Told you my luck's been hot lately. I'm grabbing that ticket and claiming the prize tomorrow!"

I gripped the ticket, staring at his gloating post, feeling a rush I'd never known.

Was this the universe's breakup gift to me?

My phone rang. It was him.

I answered, and his panicked voice came through. "Abby, when you were packing today, did you see..."

"See what?" I asked, playing dumb.

"A lottery ticket. I can't find it. Can you look for me?" His voice wavered.

"A lottery ticket?" I laughed coldly. "Didn't you say you bought those with your pocket money? Now you need my help finding it?"

He went quiet for a few seconds. "Abby, let me explain..."

"Sorry," I cut him off, my voice laced with three years of pent-up scorn. "I checked my bank statements. Every payday for three years, there's a charge from the lottery shop. Thirty-six tickets total. Almost ten thousand dollars."

"You..."

"Don't worry. I respect your privacy. Your ticket, your business. I won't meddle." I hung up.

My phone kept buzzing with his calls.

I glanced at the time. Ten minutes to six.

I grabbed my keys and headed to the mailbox to return his.

If we were done, we'd be done completely.

As for the fifty-million-dollar ticket, it'd be my breakup compensation.

After all, it was my hard-earned money that bought it.

My phone buzzed again. A message from him. "Abby, let's meet tomorrow. I need to talk..."

I read it and smirked.

2

At the coffee shop, Cormac sat across from me, dressed in a suit, hair slicked with gel.

If I didn't know his true colors, I might've fallen for his polished act again.

"Abby, how about this? The ticket's our shared property. We split it fifty-fifty..."

I cut him off. "Shared property?"

I opened my banking app. "Want to see three years of transfer records?"

"Listen," he lowered his voice. "I messed up with the breakup. I was confused. You know my family's not well-off. I finally won the lottery. You can't..."

"Can't what?" I sneered. "Are you admitting the ticket was bought with my debit card?"

His face froze.

A woman with heavy makeup stormed to our table. "Cormac, this is your ex?"

She sized me up. "It's just a ticket. I've been with Cormac all this time. Why should you get the fifty million?"

I blinked. What kind of drama was this?

"Florrie, why are you here?" His face went pale.

I watched the scene unfold, suddenly understanding why he'd dumped me.

It wasn't that I wasn't good enough. He'd already had someone else.

"Since you're here," I turned to Florrie, "do you know whose money bought that ticket?"

She scoffed. "What's it to you? You're broken up, aren't you?"

"We are," I said, sipping my coffee slowly. "But that ticket was bought with my debit card. And not just that one. For three years, every payday, he used my money to buy tickets."

"What?" Florrie's eyes widened as she turned to him. "Cormac, is that true?"

He waved his hands frantically. "Florrie, don't listen to her nonsense. That was when we were together..."

"Together how?" I interrupted. "So you admit you used my money for tickets all three years? How long have you been with Florrie? A year? Two?"

Florrie's face darkened. "Cormac, didn't you say you met her last year?"

I laughed. "Last year? We moved in together three years ago. Oh, and by the way," I turned to him, "didn't the rent come out of my debit card every month too?"

Sweat beaded on his forehead.

"So," I went on, "you used my money to keep the house while you were out finding other women? No wonder you always had excuses when I wanted to visit your office."

Florrie's eyes reddened. "Cormac, you said you'd been single for three years. You promised to introduce me to your parents..."

He stood, flustered. "Florrie, let me explain..."

"Explain what?" She shoved him. "You lied to me and used her money for tickets? You're shameless!"

As the drama escalated, I leaned back in my chair, sipping my coffee.

For the first time in three years, I felt truly satisfied.

"Abby Clark!" He slammed the table, standing up. "What do you want? Two million. I'll give you two million! That's two million. Your monthly salary's barely over ten thousand..."

"Barely over ten thousand?" I smirked. "So you think it's easy to scam my hard-earned money?"

"Three million!" he growled. "That's my final offer!"

I stood, looking down at him. "Your final offer? Let me ask you, how do you plan to repay the money you've scammed from me these three years?"

"I..."

"No need," I said, grabbing my bag to leave. "I'll keep the ticket safe since it was bought with my money. As for you..." I glanced at Florrie, who was still sobbing. "Deal with your mess first."

"You're not going anywhere!" He grabbed my wrist. "This isn't over!"

I yanked my arm free. "What, you want to get physical? Should I call the police? I'd love to ask them if this counts as fraud."

His hand froze midair.

"Oh, and one more thing," I said, turning back. "Don't call me Abby anymore. Call me Ms. Clark."

I stepped out of the coffee shop and exhaled deeply.

The scene had been cathartic, but I knew he wouldn't give up so easily.

Sure enough, as I reached the parking lot, my phone buzzed.

A text from an unknown number. "Ms. Clark, you'd better think carefully about that ticket..."

3

"Ms. Clark, you'd better think carefully about that ticket..." I stared at the cryptic message, my fingers trembling slightly.

Was this a threat?

I took a deep breath, silenced my phone, and shoved it into my bag.

I couldn't panic. The priority was keeping the lottery ticket safe.

As I reached my car, rapid footsteps echoed behind me.

"Stop!" a stranger's voice barked.

I quickened my pace without looking back, my heart pounding.

Just as I neared the car door, a heavy hand clamped onto my shoulder. "Ms. Clark, let's talk."

I turned to face three men in black T-shirts.

The leader had a buzz cut and a skull tattoo on his arm.

"Something wrong?" I forced myself to sound calm.

"Mr. Davies sent us about the lottery ticket." The buzz-cut man flashed a sinister grin.

"Nothing to discuss." I reached for the car door.

"Don't want to talk? Fine," he lowered his voice. "Just don't know if your parents' old house in Riverside is sturdy enough..."

My hand froze.

They'd even tracked down my parents' address?

Suddenly, a red sedan screeched to a stop beside us.

The window rolled down, revealing Florrie's face.

She glanced at me, then at the men, hesitated, and parked.

"What's going on here?" Her tone carried a hint of suspicion.

The buzz-cut man turned to her. "Florrie, what are you doing here? Mr. Davies said..."

"Mr. Davies?" Florrie let out a cold laugh. "He's got the nerve to send you?"

She pulled out her phone. "Want to see the text he just sent me? Said if I play along today, he'll give me two million."

I froze. What was happening?

Florrie stepped out of the car. "Get lost. Tell him I'm handling it."

The buzz-cut man hesitated, glanced at his phone, and apparently got a message. He signaled his crew, and they left.

Once they were gone, Florrie's tough facade crumbled. She leaned against her car and sighed deeply.

"Why help me?" I couldn't help asking.

Before she could answer, my phone buzzed uncontrollably.

Messages flooded in like a blizzard.

"Ms. Clark, I'm a reporter from the Daily Press. I heard you stole your boyfriend's lottery ticket..."

"Abby, remember me? I'm Cormac's high school buddy. He treated you so well..."

"Do you know how rough Cormac's got it now? He's..."

The screen flashed nonstop, each message grating on my nerves.

Then a video call request popped up. It was Cormac.

"Answer?" Florrie asked.

I nodded and hit accept.

"Abby," his voice came through, unnervingly gentle. "Remember when we first met?"

I stayed silent.

"You'd just graduated, always talking about opening a flower shop. I said I'd make it happen once my career took off."

He chuckled softly. "Now's the chance, right? We split the money fifty-fifty. You get your shop, I clear my debts. Everyone wins."

"And the threat against my parents?"

"That was those guys acting reckless. I only just found out." His tone turned serious. "Abby, you know my situation at the company. Say the word, and I'll call off everyone. But if you keep pushing..."

"Then what?"

"I'm cornered here." He sighed. "You remember Mr. Jackson, your company's boss? He's my close friend. What if he hears his star employee's personal life is such a mess?"

My hand shook violently.

Mr. Jackson was notoriously strict, hating any hint of scandal among his staff.

"What are you getting at?"

"Nothing much." He laughed. "Oh, and remember our trip to Nevoria last year? Those photos... if they got out..."

Cold sweat broke out across my back.

He went on. "Those were our happy memories. But if you want to burn bridges..."

"You-"

"Enough of that." His voice softened again. "Let's meet tomorrow to talk details? Usual place, usual time."

The call ended, and my hands still trembled.

That bastard! For three years, I'd been fooled by his fake charm.

"Don't be scared." Florrie patted my shoulder and pulled a stack of papers from her bag. "Take a look."

I glanced at them. Bank statements. Pages of transactions, all to Cormac Davies. "What are these?"

"My savings." Her voice was hoarse. "At first, he said it was for a business. Then a house. Over two hundred thousand, gone."

I flipped through the records, piecing it together. "So at the coffee shop..."

"It was an act." She nodded. "I'd suspected him for a while. After what you said today, I knew I'd been played too."

I looked at Florrie, seeing her differently. No longer the aggressive woman from the coffee shop.

Her makeup was flawless, but it couldn't hide the exhaustion in her eyes.

"I started doubting him last month," she said, lighting a cigarette. "He asked for another fifty thousand for a 'big deal.' I checked the company address he gave me. It didn't exist."

"So you investigated him?"

"Yeah, I had a friend dig into his finances for the past six months." She gave a bitter smile. "Found out he's got multiple 'girlfriends' out there, all sending him money."

My stomach sank. "Multiple?"

"At least four." Florrie pulled out her phone and showed me photos. "These were taken by someone I hired. Each woman thinks she's the only one, all funneling money to his account."

I stared at the pictures, nausea rising.

Cormac, dressed sharply, wore that familiar gentle smile, but each woman by his side was different, all gazing at him with love-struck eyes.

"Then why today..."

"Put on that show?" Florrie stubbed out her cigarette. "I wanted to see how low he'd go. It was worse than I thought."

She turned to me. "He won't let that ticket go easily."

As she spoke, my phone buzzed again.

A multimedia message. I opened it and gasped.

It was a photo of my parents' house, timestamped ten minutes ago.

A few thugs stood in the hallway outside their door.

"Look," Florrie glanced over. "He's threatening you again."

My fingers shook. "What do I do?"

"Call the police?"

I shook my head. "Won't help. They haven't done anything yet. The cops would just take a statement."

Florrie thought for a moment. "Then we meet force with force. What's he most afraid of?"

I paused, then it clicked. "He's terrified of his true colors being exposed."

"Exactly." Florrie smirked. "He's not just after the money. He needs to keep the other women in the dark. If they find out..."

"His whole 'business' falls apart." I finished her thought.

Florrie nodded. "So, let's make a deal."

"What kind?"

"I can protect your parents and help you take him down." She paused. "But I want ten percent of the prize."

I studied her. "Why help me?"

"Because I want to see him crash and burn." Her eyes sharpened. "He's ruined too many lives."

I hesitated, but my phone buzzed again. A video from Cormac.

The footage showed those thugs gesturing outside my parents' door.

"Thought it over yet? Want to meet and talk?" His voice dripped with confidence.

I took a deep breath and looked at Florrie. "What's your plan?"

Florrie grinned. "Ever heard of a honey trap?"

Suddenly, the parking lot lights went out.

Florrie and I froze, scanning the darkness.

Footsteps approached. More than one set.

"Don't worry," Florrie whispered. "This is my doing."

The lights flicked back on, revealing five men in suits.

The leader, a middle-aged man, handed me a business card. "Ms. Clark, pleasure to meet you. I'm Julian, CEO of Fuller Investigations. Ms. Hall hired us to look into Cormac Davies. We've been on the case for a month."

I glanced at Florrie, who winked. "This is my real ace. So, are we working together?"