The Bullied Prodigy

CHAPTER THREE

Was I dreaming?

I blinked twice trying to see what was right in front of me. It was unbelievable. The numbers of zeros I was looking at and the message that gnawed at me.

I stared at the message, blinking like it would disappear if I just looked long enough. My heart thumped in my chest like a drumbeat echoing in an empty hallway.

I glanced around the locker room again.

Empty.

Just me and the stale smell of sweat, disinfectant, and whatever pride I had left dying somewhere on the cold tile floor.

I opened the message again. It was still there. Not a glitch. Not a prank. Just a plain text message from an unknown number. My fingers trembled as I tapped into my message app.

[ Congratulations: Eli, your journey to become the heir to the Turner's heir begins with you accepting the cash. Press Yes/No to accept your birth right. ]

I hesitated.

My breath caught in my throat.

I was just nobody. I had been leaving with my grandmother since I could remember but now, a mysterious message is popping up on my phone telling me I was an heir to a mysterious wealth.

[ Welcome back, Mr Turner. The first installment has been deposited. Check your bank account for confirmation. Further instructions to follow. ]

Bank account?

I scoffed under my breath.

This has to be a prank.

It can't be real. My hand shaked as I glance through my phone scrolling.

What account? I had barely enough money saved from odd jobs over the summer. My grandmother and I shared a savings account that mostly existed to remind us how broke we were.

Still, I switched apps and logged into my mobile banking.

What I saw nearly made me drop the phone.

$50,000.00

Fifty. Thousand. Dollars.

I blinked. Refreshed the app. Checked again.

It wasn’t a glitch. It wasn’t a mistake. It was real. Sitting right there. My name on the screen. Balance: $50,000.00

A strangled laugh escaped me. My lips trembled.

“No... no way.”

I looked again. And again. My fingers hovered above the screen as if touching it too much would make the numbers vanish.

Where did it come from?

My brain couldn’t make sense of it. My first thought was—stolen identity. Some twisted hacker deposited the money by accident. But that didn’t make sense. Why would anyone give a loser like me that much money?

Unless it wasn’t a gift.

Unless it was a game.

A trap.

I sat there, frozen, staring at that number. I had never even seen more than five hundred dollars in my name. This... this wasn’t possible.

What if it was real?

That question echoed like a whisper in my head.

Real or not, I wasn’t touching a single cent until I knew what the hell was going on.

I shut my phone and stuffed it into my bag like it was a grenade. My body was still aching, my wrist still sore, and my stomach was still knotted with humiliation from earlier—but none of that compared to the storm now building inside me.

I needed air.

I stumbled out of the locker room and into the night. The game had ended. The crowd was gone. The silence was deafening. Only the distant buzz of the scoreboard and the hum of the streetlights filled the air.

I walked, blindly, aimlessly. Through the school parking lot, down the sidewalk.

My head was spinning.

What kind of person sends you money like that? No explanation. No name. No conditions.

Or... were there conditions?

What if I had already agreed to something just by opening the message?

The thought chilled me.

At some point, I ended up at the bus stop. I didn’t even remember getting there. I sat on the bench, hugging my bag to my chest like a lifeline.

I didn’t know how long I sat there. Could’ve been five minutes. Could’ve been an hour.

Eventually, the bus rumbled up to the stop, headlights washing over me like a spotlight. The driver gave me a weird look as I climbed on, dripping sweat despite the cool night.

I found a seat in the back, curled into the corner, and stared out the window. My reflection stared back—pale, tired, and wide-eyed.

$50,000.

Real or fake, my world had just shifted.

When I finally reached home, the apartment was dark. I slipped inside quietly, avoiding the loose floorboard near the entrance.

I kicked off my shoes, dumped my bag, and went straight to the tiny kitchen. I opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and leaned against the counter.

Then I pulled out my phone.

Still there.

Still $50,000.

I tapped the email again, rereading every line like I was decoding a prophecy.

> “Further instructions to follow.”

That line gnawed at me.

What instructions? When? Was I supposed to do something? Meet someone? Return the money? Or was going on.

I chuckled bitterly. This was insane.

But something about it felt... intentional. Like someone knew me. Like they were watching.

I hated how that thought both terrified and comforted me.

I glanced toward the small photo of me and my grandmother on the fridge. She was the only family I had left and i was going to do everything in my power to have her protected.

My grandmother was working very hard to put the little food we ate on the table.

$50,000 could change everything. I could fix a lot with the money staring right back at me. Pay off grandmother's medical bills. Buy real school supplies. Maybe even transfer out of Crestwood.

The thought of leaving was the first thing that came to my mind but then, I need to show Jordan was not some loafer anymore.

Maybe... maybe I didn’t have to be the joke anymore.

My phone buzzed again.

New message.

From the same number.

"You are not dreaming. All you need is to press Yes/No.

I stared.

My breath caught in my throat.

A chill raced down my spine.

My hand hoovered the screen as I decided my fate.