“No—what if it is a winning ticket and you just read it wrong? Wouldn’t that mean our family missed out on a huge chance?” my brother said. “It’s no big deal if I take another look, right?”
I stuffed the lottery ticket into my pocket deliberately and said coldly, “You just don’t believe me. I don’t want to show it to you.”
He thought I was just being bratty. Smiling, he reached out to ruffle my hair, then handed me the steamed buns again. “Okay, okay. I won’t look. You’re hungry, right? Eat something.”
I took the buns and headed for the door, casually tossing over my shoulder. “The weather’s nice. I’ll go get some fresh air.”
Really, I just needed to get out of the house. My nerves were frayed, my thoughts chaotic—I had to clear my head.
But as I turned into the alley, my heart stopped cold.
The lottery ticket was gone.
Every drop of blood in my body seemed to freeze. I spun around and bolted back toward the house.
From a distance, I saw him—my brother—standing frozen in the doorway, pale as a sheet. In his hand was the very ticket that should’ve been in my pocket.
Before he could tear it, I sprinted forward, snatched it out of his grasp and ran with all my strength.
Behind me, I heard his furious shout, “Stella! You can’t cash that ticket!”
Even in my past life, up until the moment I died, I could never understand it—why would the brother who’d loved me since I was a child change the moment he learned I’d won the jackpot?
The hatred in his eyes back then… it was something I’d never seen before.
Now, again, he was chasing after me like a madman. I wasn’t as fast or strong and he caught up quickly.
Terrified, I screamed for help. “Help! My brother is trying to kill me!”
The alley was lined with familiar neighbors. They rushed out at the sound of my cries.
My brother hadn’t expected me to shout. Realizing he couldn’t drag me off in public, I dropped to my knees in front of him, tears streaming down my face.
“Brother,” I sobbed, “we’re so close to finally having a good life. Why would you try to tear up the lottery ticket?”
His face twisted, teeth clenched. “You damn brat. Shut up!”
He tried to grab me again, but by then, the neighbors had already rushed over.
Uncle Josh, from next door stepped between us, pushing my brother away.
“What the hell are you doing, hitting your own sister?!”
Other neighbors chimed in.
“I heard something about a winning ticket. Isn’t that something to be happy about?”
“Even if it’s your sister, you can’t just beat her! That’s assault! Do that again and we’re calling the police!”
My brother stood there, chest heaving, veins bulging in his neck. His face was twisted with rage—but with so many people watching, he couldn’t do anything.
Then I saw his smirk.
He was looking behind me.
Confused, I turned—and my heart sank.
Dad was walking over.
He spotted the scene, me and my brother surrounded by angry neighbors. His brows furrowed. It didn’t take long for him to piece things together.
As Dad approached, I tensed, my nails digging deep into my palms. The neighbors quickly began complaining to him, explaining how my brother had tried to attack me.
Dad’s face darkened. Furious, he raised his hand and aimed a hard slap at my brother.
But before it landed, my brother suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs, “Stella won the five-million-dollar jackpot!”
“No, no! That’s not true—he made a mistake!” I cried, panic tightening my chest. My eyes were burning, my voice shaky.
“It’s one thousand percent true!” my brother yelled. “I even took a picture of the ticket!”
With shaking hands, he handed his phone to Dad.
Dad stared at the screen.
His eyes twitched slightly. His gaze locked onto the picture.
He didn’t move.
I stepped forward, my voice weak. “Dad...”
Then he looked at me—and his eyes were bloodshot.
Without warning, he raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face.
“You ungrateful brat! Your brother told you to tear up the ticket—why didn’t you listen?!”
