2025-05-28 04:43:25Was 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.
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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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