I never thought I’d find myself standing on the sidewalk at 63 years old with just two suitcases, watching my daughter stare at me like I was a problem she couldn’t wait to remove. But life has a way of exposing the truth at the most unexpected moments, like when the lottery ticket I had forgotten in my handbag turned out to be worth $14,700,000. And the child I brought into this world told me I was no longer welcome.
Before I go on, tell me where you’re listening from.
And if this story touches you, stay with me because what happened next changed everything.
That morning began like any other Tuesday in Port Harll.
A blanket of sea mist covered our old Victorian-style home in the lighthouse district. I had lived there for 37 years, raising Jesseline within those creaking wooden floors and stained glass windows, filling each room with botanical illustrations that had once been my passion until I set them aside to become a mother.
I still remember the moment I noticed the small envelope from the Port Harville lottery commission tucked among the morning mail.
I had bought that ticket months earlier, a small birthday gift to myself, then completely forgot about it. When I opened it, the world seemed to stop.
It was a confirmation of winnings with instructions to visit the Pinnacle Tower in West Holm to claim the prize.
My hands trembled as I read the number. $14,700,000 — about 8.9 million after taxes.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.
It was the answer to all the worries that had kept me awake ever since Jesseline and her husband Rafferty moved in 6 months ago, saying they needed time to rebuild their lives after his investment firm collapsed.
I slipped the letter into the pocket of my cardigan, keeping it close to my heart like a warm secret. I wasn’t ready to tell them.
That evening, I planned to surprise them with a special dinner, maybe even talk about renovating the house. Jesseline kept mentioning things I could never afford on my small pension from the Port Harville Botanical Society.
That money would change everything.
But first, I needed to claim it.
I had just said I was stepping out when Jesseline blocked the doorway. Her perfect blonde hair was hastily tied back, her face tense.
“Mom, we need to talk,” she said.
Raph and I have been thinking and we believe it’s time to make some changes. Rafferty walked out of the kitchen holding a mug of coffee, his wrinkled shirt looking like he’d slept in it.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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