I opened the fireproof box and counted twice. The ticket was still there, untouched. But my hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped it. I didn’t even trust myself with it anymore.
That same day, I called my lawyer, the one who’d helped me set up the anonymous trust to claim the prize. His name was Patrick Hail. I told him I was worried about security and asked if anyone could access the records. He said the information was sealed, that even he didn’t know my personal details anymore since everything was transferred under the foundation name, but he hesitated before hanging up. He asked if someone close to me might have found out.
I didn’t answer, because the truth was there was only one person who could have pieced things together: Lily. I didn’t want to believe it, but she was the only one who’d noticed how strange I’d been acting. She’d even joked once about how I was weirdly calm for someone supposedly broke. Maybe she’d checked something. Maybe she’d seen me near the storage unit.
That night, I drove to her apartment again. She opened the door wearing her scrubs, hair tied up, exhausted but smiling a little. She said she was about to leave for her clinical rotation. I asked if we could talk. She looked confused but said sure.
I told her someone had sent me a threatening message, that they knew about the lottery ticket.
She frowned. “What ticket?”
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