After Felipe graduated, he moved into my rental apartment.

He stayed for over half a year.

The dozen resumes he sent out were all rejected, and from then on, he became completely disheartened, spending his days gaming in the apartment.

A year later, Felipe suddenly asked to borrow fifty thousand dollars from me, saying his father, who was back in his hometown, had broken his leg while working, and they couldn't afford the medical bills.

I scraped together four thousand dollars by borrowing from my parents, relatives, and friends, and added my savings to make up the full amount.

I hoped this incident would motivate Felipe to pull himself together, but day after day passed, and he still didn't have a job. Fortunately, I had a job that paid over ten thousand dollars a month, which was enough to support both of us.

Since then, our conversations have been limited to transfers. I often received messages from Felipe after work, telling me he was spending the night at an internet cafe and wouldn't be coming home.

I thought for a moment. When did Felipe start cheating on me? Was it after I graduated and left campus, or when he got hooked on gaming and started spending nights out?

How many nights had they spent together without me knowing?

I thought of the strange red marks that appeared on his neck and the unfamiliar scent on his t-shirt.

I calmed down, withdrew my hand from the door, and leaned against it. Suddenly, everything seemed to make sense. I hated myself for being foolish, for giving so much only to be endlessly taken from.

I wiped away my tears and turned to leave the hotel, heading back to the rental to pack my things quickly.

Since my salary had to support two people, I had few clothes and skincare products, so packing didn't take long. I grabbed my suitcase and headed downstairs.

When I reached the entrance of the old apartment complex, I saw the lottery retailer across the street.

I suddenly remembered a story I saw online a few days ago about a girl who won a million after breaking up with her boyfriend. On a whim, I walked over.

It was my first time buying a scratch-off ticket, and I didn't know how things worked. Acting out of spite, I handed the shopkeeper a hundred dollars.

"I'll take a hundred dollars' worth of scratch-off tickets."

The shopkeeper opened a pack of tickets and tore off two, handing them to me.

I instantly regretted it. The tickets were expensive, which cost me a hundred dollars for just two. But I thought, why not? If I didn't win, I would just take it as a way to get back my luck.

I sat down at the table in the back of the shop and started scratching.

The first ticket had five rows, and I scratched off five symbols, but they were only worth ten dollars each. Altogether, it was fifty dollars. At least I broke even. Hopefully, the next one would be the same.

I pulled out the second ticket. In the first row, there was nothing.

As for the second row, it had nothing again.

I thought I was about to walk away empty-handed and shook my head in resignation.

But then, as I scratched off the third row, a long string of numbers appeared beneath the symbol. It was… fifty million dollars?!

I rubbed my eyes, and once I confirmed I wasn't dreaming, I glanced at the shopkeeper. I nearly screamed.

The shopkeeper asked, "Did you win anything? These fifty-dollar tickets have a pretty high payout rate."

I glanced down at the top right corner of the ticket, where it said the maximum prize was fifty million dollars. I couldn't believe it. I had actually won the jackpot.

Just in case, I held back my excitement and pretended to be disappointed. "Just one win, only fifty dollars. Lost fifty."

I cashed in the fifty-dollar ticket, carefully tucked the winning ticket into the inner pocket of my bag, and zipped it up.

It wasn't the time to celebrate. Most of the residents in this old neighborhood were elderly, and if word got out, everyone would know I'd won within two days.

If Felipe found out I'd won, what would he do? Would he regret it and come crawling back? Or would he just come up with more excuses to drain me and keep supporting Jewel?

I didn't dare to think about it further. The priority was to leave here, break up with him, and then figure out how to get back at him later.

I quickly hailed a cab and went to a hotel far from here, splurging on the most expensive suite.

Once in the room, I took the winning ticket from my bag, carefully unfolding it and checking it again. I really had won fifty million dollars.

I pulled out my phone and massaged Felipe.

[I knew everything. We're done.]

Without a moment's hesitation, I blocked him.

I found Jewel's number in my phone which had sent me that message earlier, but after thinking it over, I decided to leave her alone.

Finally, I had put an end to that failed relationship I had refused to acknowledge.

I packed everything into the closet in the suite and took a shower.

Standing in front of the sink, I looked at my slightly plump figure. The stress had made my face pale and sallow, with acne scars on my forehead from staying up late. In my early twenties, fine lines were forming under my eyes.

I remembered the vibrant energy I had in college, only to contrast it with the lifelessness that now came from the burdens of life.

Inwardly, I made up my mind. I would change everything about myself, and those who had wronged me would one day be groveling at my feet, begging for my favor.

Just as I was lying on the soft hotel bed, thinking about how to divide up the fifty million dollars, my phone buzzed with a message. It was a picture.

In the photo, Felipe was already asleep, with suggestive red marks on his neck. Jewel was leaning against his shoulder, staring dreamily at the camera.

Two messages followed below the picture.

[Clinging to someone who doesn't love you is so stupid.]

[Sonia, you finally left him. Now, he's mine.]

I didn't bother replying to Jewel.

I admitted that I wasn't as young or as beautiful as she was, but now I had a fortune. With money, what couldn't I do? If something couldn't be achieved, it just meant I wasn't offering enough.

I called my parents but didn't tell them about the lottery; instead, I said I'd made a lot of money through some business.

I told them I planned to buy them a house in our hometown. Even over the phone, I could sense their joy and relief.

I didn't want to reveal the lottery win yet, fearing that once our well-intentioned but selfish relatives found out, they'd come asking for money. My parents were getting older, and I didn't want them to be put in that awkward position.

After that, I sent in my resignation to my company, immediately left the company chat group, and deleted all my colleagues' contacts.

I no longer had to endure the company's demands or scrape by on a small salary. The money I now possessed was more than I could have earned in a lifetime at that job.

Wanting some peace, I planned to take my time and figure things out before starting a small business of my own.

With all the unnecessary people deleted, my phone finally went silent.

Lying on the bed, I felt a deep sense of regret creep in.

I had put all my energy into someone who didn't deserve it, and now, after leaving him, I realized I didn't have a single true friend left.

Having handled everything else, I thought it was time to plan how to use the fifty million dollars.

After taxes, I should have around forty million left.

Portland was not a large city, and a house downtown of approximately two thousand square feet would cost about two million dollars.

Buying my parents a 1500-square-foot house in our hometown would cost about one million dollars. I could also get a car, and I'd still have plenty left.

After the real estate purchases, the most important thing would be to lose weight and improve my appearance. While I might not be considered stunning, slimming down and improving my skin would certainly help my looks.

I looked up the opening hours for the lottery office and saw they opened at ten. I set an alarm for nine, planning to be there first thing in the morning to claim my winnings.