2025-05-28 04:44:14My gaze was fixed on the screen.
Just those two words: Yes / No. Simple. Plain. But they felt like a loaded gun pointed straight at me. My thumb hovered, shaking. Every logical part of my brain screamed Don't. This was insane. Creepy. Probably illegal. I should delete the message, block the number, call the bank, call the cops, do something normal. But then again, normal never got me anywhere. Not when normal meant watching my grandmother cough through the night because we couldn’t afford the good medicine. Not when normal meant skipping meals so she could eat. Not when normal meant walking to school with my shoes coming apart and pretending it didn’t bother me when Jordan and his gang laughed at me in front of everyone. $50,000 wasn’t normal. And maybe… neither was I. I took a shaky breath, the air thick in my throat. Then, I tapped Yes. Nothing happened. No confetti, no dramatic music. Just the message disappearing, like it had never been there. I stared at the screen for a full minute, my pulse ringing so loud that I could hear them in my ears. Had I just sold my soul? Another buzz. A new message. > [Thank you, Mr. Turner. Your acceptance has been recorded. Expect the first task within 24 hours. We are watching.] My stomach clenched. “We are watching.” I looked around my small kitchen like someone might be peeking in through the cracked window above the sink. The shadows didn’t move. The fridge hummed. My own reflection in the dark glass of the oven door looked back at me—tense, pale, eyes wide with fear. I should’ve been scared. Hell, I was scared. But underneath that fear was something else. Something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Excitement. For the first time in years, I didn’t feel powerless. I didn’t sleep that night. I lay on the ratty couch in the living room, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding as questions raced through my head. Who were they? What did they want? Was this really about family? Some long-lost bloodline inheritance I never knew about? Or was it something darker? By morning, the fear had settled into a tight ball in my stomach. But so had the determination. Whatever this was—I was going to see it through. I had to. I didn’t tell my grandmother anything. She was already tired from her night shift at the diner, and I couldn’t burden her with something I didn’t even understand yet. She kissed me on the forehead and mumbled something about eggs before retreating to her room to sleep. I packed my bag slowly, checking my phone every few seconds like I was waiting for a bomb to go off. 8:13 AM. Still nothing. 8:47 AM. Nothing. 9:02. Buzz. I flinched, snatching the phone like it might burn me. Another message. > [Your first task begins now. Go to Locker 209 at Crestwood High. Inside, you’ll find a sealed envelope. Do not open it until you’re alone. This message will delete in 10 seconds.] I barely finished reading it before it vanished. I stared at the blank screen. Locker 209? That wasn’t my locker. It wasn’t even on my usual route through school. But I knew where it was. Near the science wing. Mostly unused. Who had access to it? How had they? I didn't wait for the dawn of a new day. It could barely see when I set out of the house. I caught the early bus with my heart in my throat, feeling like every glance from a stranger was someone checking if I’d followed the rules. Like any wrong move would get me pulled into a van and vanished forever. When I stepped through the school doors, everything felt... silent. There was no laughter in the hallway, no slamming of lockers. I walked glancing right behind me trying to locate the mystery locker. But then, I heard a croaking voice right behind me and I know immediately who it was. “Hey, loser!” Jordan’s voice cut through the air like a whip. He sauntered past with his crew, elbowing me hard in the shoulder. I stumbled but kept walking, kept my eyes ahead. Normally, I’d have shrunk back or muttered something useless. Today, I didn’t even flinch. He didn’t matter. None of them did. Not anymore. I slipped through the side hall and found Locker 209. The padlock was missing. In its place was a simple tag with my name written in pen—Eli T. I swallowed. This was real. I opened it. Inside was a sealed brown envelope. No markings. No name. Just thick paper and the smell of something faintly metallic. I grabbed it and closed the locker, heart hammering like a jackhammer in my chest. I bolted to the back stairwell—my hideout when I needed to disappear. I sat on the cold step and peeled the envelope open. Inside was a folded sheet of paper and a black credit card. I froze. The card was matte black, no numbers, no chip, no logo. Just a silver insignia on one side: a stylized wolf’s head. I set it aside and read the letter. > Mr. Turner, You’ve taken the first step. What comes next will define your legacy. This card grants you access to funds, resources, and connections available only to members of the Turner Line. Use it wisely. The world will notice when you rise. [ Task One: Make a transaction today. Anything. Prove you're ready to break from your past. ] We are watching. No name. No signature. Just those last four words again. We are watching. I leaned back against the wall, mind racing. A transaction? That was it? Just... use the card? I panicked. I felt my heart beating fast. Not from being scared but because of what I could do with the card. If the message was right then I have unlimited access to wealth. Money beyond my wildest dream. I picked it up, the surface cool and smooth in my palm. This wasn’t just about the money. It was a test. A way to see if I’d follow through. I stared at it for a long moment before sliding it into my wallet. By lunch, I knew what I’d do. I walked to the cafeteria, ignoring the stares and whispers. I wasn’t going to buy food—I had a peanut butter sandwich in my bag. But I walked up to the register anyway. The cashier looked bored until I placed the black card on the counter. “I’ll pay for everyone in line,” I said. She blinked. “What?” “You heard me. Everyone. Put it all on this.” She looked at the card, then at me. I waited. She swiped. And then nothing. "Try again." I said looking at her face anxiously.
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CHAPTER NINE
I could barely sleep. I lket wondering who sent the money and his they knew that I needed it. I shove my phone that kept making a funny sound in my face.. Ever since I left the grand hall of Crestwood. It has been tons of messages and friend request. Most of the students wanted to know who I really am. Who my parents were? Amd most importantly why I had been hiding the fact that I was rich. But the truth was that, I wasn't. I was just some street rat whose blood was collected to be tested if I was the real deal. My mind flashed back as I remembered what he said. Was I the lost long kid afterall? Or did he just took pity on me and sent me the money? No one sends that amount of money except if only...I couldn't think strait. I looked at my phone and saw the student forum had been blowned up with losts of pictures and video about what happened that day. But why did Cindy bet on me? Did she know something that I didn't? Cindy was one of the richest kids in
CHAPTER EIGHT
" Do you think he has the money?" " Eli is always a loafer and will forever be. Do you even see his shoes?" [ Some of the kids laughed. ] " I bet he does not have the money to pay. He is only stalling. Trying to buy more time." " And what if he is not?" " Have you seen the guy? He can barely afford lunch. What does that tells you?" " I had Jordan's father just bought the most biggest house in the city. Did you get an invite for the house warming party?" A girl in a short skimpy dresss asked looking at her friend. " No." " Huh? That means you are of lower class. I should watch the kind of friends move with." She said laughing " Ten thousand grand on Eli that he is bluffing." Tracy Stewart said laughing. Most of the students all began to drop their money all betting against me. But then a girl came forwards. She was known to be on her own. She was like the queen in the school and many feared her for some unreasons I know nothing about. " One thousand g
CHAPTER SEVEN
The rain had stopped by the time I reached Crestwood’s front courtyard, but the damage had already been done. Students were gathered in clusters, whispering, filming, laughing—phones pointed like weapons at the center of it all. In the middle, my grandmother stood, her coat soaked, curls frizzed from the drizzle, her back ramrod straight as she faced down Jordan and two of his usual shadows. Jordan was smiling like he was on stage. “Come on, old lady. Just say it. Kneel and beg, and maybe I’ll forgive your little grandson’s temper tantrum.” The crowd chuckled. “Show some humility,” one of his cronies added. My blood boiled. I shoved past a pair of junior girls, storming into the circle like a bull. “Grandma!” I shouted, voice cracking with urgency. “Get up! You don’t have to talk to them.” I said in anger shoving my way through the clustering crowd that were hovering over my grandmother who was on her knees. She turned toward me, her expression equal parts relief and fury. “E
CHAPTER SIX
The car door remained open, silent as the rain peppered the pavement. I stared at the black leather interior, unsure if I was hallucinating. Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought. Maybe Jordan had punched me straight into a fever dream. But the car was real. And someone was waiting. I hesitated. I could still turn around, go home, lick my wounds, try to explain to my grandma why I’d been suspended and didn’t fight harder to stay in school. But my legs didn’t listen. They moved on their own. I slid into the backseat, soaked hoodie dripping onto the plush carpeted floor. The door closed automatically behind me with a soft hiss. Inside, the air smelled like expensive cologne and leather polish. The divider between the driver and the back was up, blacked out. But I wasn’t alone. A man sat across from me in the wide backseat, dressed in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than everything I owned. He looked to be in his mid-forties, with a hard face, graying temples, and
CHAPTER FIVE
It went through. No error. No decline. Just a beep. “Approved,” she mumbled, stunned. People started cheering. Some clapped me on the back. Even Jordan looked confused from across the room. I didn’t say a word. I just walked away. That night, I got another message. > [Well done, Mr. Turner. You’ve shown initiative. Your next task arrives tomorrow.] I stared at the screen with disbelief. Who am I? The euphoria of the cafeteria victory faded faster than I expected. By the next morning, I was nobody again. The whispers returned, laced with bitterness instead of awe. “Bet it was a one-time thing.” “Probably stole it.” “Didn’t you hear? That was his grandma’s pension money.” I tried to ignore them, but it was like walking through a swarm of flies. Persistent. Annoying. Biting. And, of course, Jordan was waiting. He caught up with me outside the locker room after gym, where I’d stayed behind to change. Everyone else was gone, and I was just tightening
CHAPTER FOUR
My gaze was fixed on the screen. Just those two words: Yes / No. Simple. Plain. But they felt like a loaded gun pointed straight at me. My thumb hovered, shaking. Every logical part of my brain screamed Don't. This was insane. Creepy. Probably illegal. I should delete the message, block the number, call the bank, call the cops, do something normal. But then again, normal never got me anywhere. Not when normal meant watching my grandmother cough through the night because we couldn’t afford the good medicine. Not when normal meant skipping meals so she could eat. Not when normal meant walking to school with my shoes coming apart and pretending it didn’t bother me when Jordan and his gang laughed at me in front of everyone. $50,000 wasn’t normal. And maybe… neither was I. I took a shaky breath, the air thick in my throat. Then, I tapped Yes. Nothing happened. No confetti, no dramatic music. Just the message disappearing, like it had never been there. I stared at the
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