What happens when the dream of a lifetime arrives—and you can’t tell the person who shares your bed?
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The numbers lit the room brighter than the lamp ever had.
Starting Paragraph
He watched the Powerball digits fall into place like fate counting down to his rebirth—each one a drumbeat in his chest. Five numbers, then the Powerball. His breath snagged. He checked the ticket twice, then a third time, because disbelief was the only thing keeping him sane. Three hundred million dollars. The kind of money that erases worry, loyalty, and sometimes, love. From the bedroom came her voice, soft and casual, “Did you win anything?” He stared at the screen, every muscle trembling. The silence grew heavy, a living thing between them. Maybe he’d tell her tomorrow. Maybe not. He’d always dreamed of freedom—he just hadn’t known it might cost him everything.
If you suddenly won $300 million, who’s the first person you’d tell—or would you keep it to yourself?