Chapter Six — Secrets and Shares
That night, I sat at the kitchen table staring at the lottery ticket like it was made of gold. The numbers sat there in bold print, looking ordinary to anyone else — but to me, they were destiny.
Mom glanced at it once, shook her head, and went back to folding laundry. "Boy, you know people waste half their paychecks chasing numbers. I don't know why you even bother with that mess."
Dad chuckled from his chair in the corner, one leg stretched stiff from his injury. "A dollar and a dream, that's all it is. Ain't hurt nobody."
To them, it was nothing. Just a ticket. Something people bought on impulse, scratched or checked, then threw away when it didn't hit.
But me? I couldn't take my eyes off it. My hands were steady, but inside my chest my heart was thundering. Because I wasn't guessing. I wasn't hoping. I remembered.
The announcement from my past life replayed in my head like a video I'd watched a hundred times. Tonight was the night someone in Philly won the jackpot. And this time, it wasn't gonna be "someone." It was me.
Still, when the news came on and the numbers started to roll, my breath caught. One by one, the digits lined up. First… second… third.
My chest tightened.
Fourth. Fifth. Sixth.
I gripped the ticket so hard it nearly crumpled.
Every number matched.
Mom's jaw dropped, laundry tumbling to the floor. Dad sat forward so fast his bad leg knocked against the table.
"Hold up," he said, snatching the ticket from my hand. He checked once, twice, three times. His voice came out hoarse. "We… we hit it. We hit the damn thing."
Mom gasped, her hands flying to her face. Then she screamed, tears streaming as she rushed over and hugged me so tight I couldn't breathe. Dad laughed — a rusty, broken sound I hadn't heard in years — and clapped me on the back like he was afraid I'd vanish.
A million dollars.
We didn't shout it to the neighborhood. We didn't call cousins or brag on Facebook. In this part of Philly, money like that made you a target. You didn't flash it. You didn't share it. You buried it deep and prayed nobody noticed.
Only us. Only family.
That night, I promised them both: we'd move out, get a better life, and I'd finally buy my own game pod. It wasn't twenty thousand like the rich kids flaunted, but it didn't need to be.
It was enough.
Enough to change everything.
---
Meanwhile, across town, the real movers of Philadelphia were holding a very different kind of meeting.
The Greenbird Conglomerate's headquarters towered over downtown, its glass walls glowing like a lighthouse in the night. Inside the boardroom, the city's wealthiest and most powerful sat around a polished oak table, their suits sharper than knives, their voices hushed with anticipation.
Robert Greenbird stood at the head of the table, tall and commanding in a tailored suit. His salt-and-pepper beard was trimmed sharp, his gaze piercing as he addressed the shareholders.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice carrying like a sermon, "you've all heard whispers of the new virtual reality MMORPG launching next week: The Symposium: Arc of Legends. What you may not know is that it will not simply be entertainment. It will be the foundation of the next economic revolution."
Murmurs rippled through the room.
Robert's lips curved in a thin smile as he continued. "In six months, the game will merge with reality. Currency earned in-game will have real-world value. One gold coin will equal approximately one thousand U.S. dollars."
The mayor — John and Rebecca Smalls' father — raised an eyebrow, his tone skeptical. "Robert, surely you don't mean to tell us this children's game will dictate the market?"
"I don't mean to tell you, Mayor," Robert replied coolly. "I mean to warn you. Those who position themselves now will control the flow of money tomorrow. Those who don't… will find themselves begging at the feet of players."
The room fell quiet. The weight of his words pressed down like a stone.
One of the Jackson uncles leaned forward, his rings glinting under the light. "And what do you propose?"
Robert clasped his hands behind his back. "Simple. We invest. Buy stock in the companies tied to the game. Acquire shares before the market catches on. And most importantly, we establish a foothold inside the game itself."
The mayor frowned. "And who will lead this… foothold?"
Robert's answer was immediate, his voice cutting through the silence. "My daughter. Kelly Greenbird."
Gasps and murmurs broke out around the table.
"She is young," Robert continued smoothly, "but she is disciplined. Intelligent. And above all, she will have the full backing of this conglomerate. With our resources, she will form the most powerful guild in Arc of Legends. A guild that will not only dominate the virtual world, but serve as the financial engine for us all."
The mayor leaned back, tapping his fingers against the table. Rebecca Smalls exchanged a wary glance with her father. Even the smug smiles of the other wealthy families faltered.
"Gentlemen," Robert said, his voice calm but sharp as steel, "you have two choices. Dismiss this as nonsense… or secure your families' place in the next era of wealth."
The room was silent for a long moment.
Then the mayor nodded slowly. "Very well. You have my support."
One by one, the others followed. The Jacksons. The Standfeilds. Even the Smalls family, reluctant but unwilling to be left behind.
By the end of the night, the Greenbirds had their answer.
The city's elite would back Kelly's rise.
---
Back in my bedroom, I slid the ticket under a loose floorboard, my hands trembling with both fear and excitement.
The world didn't know it yet, but money was about to flow like water through a new kind of pipe. The rich already had their plans, their guilds, their seats at the table.
But me?
I had something better.
I had the future in my head.
And soon, with my family safe and my pod ready, I'd step into Arc of Legends.
This time, I wouldn't just survive.
I'd own it.