Blurb：
Avery Sutton's life as a family ATM collapses when a desperate **$100 Powerball ticket** changes everything. After wiring half her paycheck to her leech brother **Brandon** yet again, the broke admin assistant makes a reckless gamble - scribbling her **student ID**, **employee number**, and darkest sacrifices on a lottery ticket. Days later, she’s staring at **50 million USD** jackpot numbers… and conducts a brutal loyalty test: *"I have cancer. Need $50k."*
The results? Parents shriek about "**family duty**", **Brandon** demands inheritance details, while **ex-boyfriend** transfers his last $100K despite bankruptcy. Now, Avery must confront **financial betrayal**, **gold-digging relatives**, and the explosive secret behind her ex’s sacrifice.
Discover why readers obsess over:
- Twisted **family blackmail** tactics
- **Bankrupt ex** hero tropes
- **Lottery winner revenge** strategies
- **Powerball numerology** theories using IDs/dates
Content：
§PROLOGUEI sent the same text to all my friends and family the day I won thirty million dollars.
I have cancer. I need fifty thousand for treatment.
An hour later, I stared at a screen full of red delivery-failure icons, and the silence was deafening.
My leech of a brother was the only one who replied, asking how I planned to handle my estate.
Just as the cold fist of despair closed around my heart, a notification lit up my screen. A transfer for one hundred thousand dollars from my ex-boyfriend.
And a simple, powerful message.
"Tell me if it's not enough."
But… his company had just gone bankrupt.
§01
It was the fifteenth of the month, a holy day for the working class.
Payday.
For me, it was a brief, 24-hour window where I could almost feel like a normal person, a fleeting moment of financial breathing room before the walls closed in again. I celebrated this tiny illusion of freedom by ordering my breakfast burrito with extra chorizo, a small, greasy luxury that made the monotonous grind of my administrative assistant job feel momentarily worthwhile.
The moment the direct deposit notification flashed on my phone, a wave of profound relief washed over me. It was a physical sensation, like a tight band around my chest finally loosening. I stretched at my desk, the fluorescent lights of the open-plan office humming overhead, and felt a renewed, if temporary, sense of purpose. A silent pep talk echoed in my head, a mantra I repeated every payday: *Stay positive, Avery. You're surviving. Every day.*
The warmth in my bank account lasted less than five minutes. A message from Brandon, my brother, popped up, as predictable as the sunrise.
"Hey sis, can you spot me?"
A bitter taste filled my mouth. I scrolled through our chat history. It was a barren wasteland of his requests and my transfer confirmations. The fifteenth of every month, a blue bubble from him, a green bubble from me. Nothing else. No "How are you?", no "Happy birthday", no sign that I existed for any reason other than to be his personal ATM.
I rolled my eyes, my thumb hovering over the ignore button. Just for once, I wanted to let it sit there. Let him wonder. Let him sweat.
But then, my phone rang, the shrill, custom ringtone I’d assigned to her piercing the office quiet. Mom.
I quickly ducked into an empty conference room. "Avery Sutton! Did you see your brother's message? He’s waiting. Send him the money!" Her voice was sharp, accusatory, as if I’d committed a cardinal sin.
The familiar fire of resentment flared up, hot and quick. "Do I owe him something? Are you his mother or am I? Why don't you send it?"
Her voice escalated into a shriek, laced with practiced melodrama. "Are you trying to start a rebellion? He's your brother! He is your blood! If you don't support him, who will? You can't forget where you come from. Without him, you'll have no one to protect you when you're bullied!"
I could hear my father’s gruff voice in the background, adding his two cents. “Tell her to stop being so selfish!”
"The only family I'll have left is the one I can go home to!" she continued, her voice cracking with fake tears. "If you're this cruel to your own brother, you'll face the consequences someday! God is watching, Avery!"
I let out a bitter, humorless laugh. "No one bullies me more than he does. No one."
I slammed the end call button and silenced my phone, my hands shaking. I leaned my head against the cool glass of the conference room, refusing to engage further.
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The End