My car was dying. My apartment was tiny. I was living paycheck to paycheck.
So when the lottery jackpot hit $127 million, I bought one ticket. $2. A hope. A dream.
And I won. Not the jackpot. But a second-tier prize. $2.5 million.
Life-changing money. Enough to pay off debt, buy a car, put a down payment on a house. Build a future.
I drove to my parents’ house immediately. Excited. Happy. Wanting to share.
They lived in a nice suburban home. Comfortable. My father was a retired accountant. My mother worked part-time.
They’d always favored Selene. My older sister. The golden child.
She’d married young. Had a good job. Was “building a family” the right way.
I was single. A teacher. Less impressive. Less valuable.
But I thought winning the lottery might change that. Might make them proud.
