The sounds of morning filtered softly through the thin apartment walls, birds chirping in the distance, a car engine rumbling to life, and the quiet hum of the city slowly waking up. Jack slowly opened his eyes, allowing the morning light to pour across his battered face. A soft groan escaped his lips as he sat up, his back protesting from where he had collapsed the night before. As he looked around the small, cramped apartment, the silence stirred memories that hadn't settled yet. Memories of Dean, or Don, or whatever that smug bastard's name was. Jack didn't care to remember anymore. "To hell with him," Jack said while waving like a drunk man in a bar. All that mattered was the pounding fists and the bruises those memories left behind.
His eyes shifted to the splintered doorway, the broken pieces of wood still scattered across the floor like the remnants of his pride. The door had been torn through like it was made of cardboard, and for a moment, Jack considered how angry his landlord might be. But then he remembered that he had two million dollars. Two million, sitting in a lottery account, just waiting to be claimed. That thought should have lifted his mood like a warm current rising through cold water, but it didn't. Not fully. The ache in his chest from betrayal and humiliation still lingered. But today had a purpose. Today, he would take the first step into his new life.
He stood and shuffled toward the sink to splash cold water on his face, wincing at the soreness around his eye. The purple hue had darkened overnight, and the swelling had settled in. His jaw felt stiff, and his cheek pulsed with a dull throb. He stared at his reflection in the cracked mirror, trying to summon the image of a millionaire. But the man staring back looked nothing like one. His eyes were weary, his beard patchy, and his clothes rumpled and worn. Still, none of that mattered. Not if he could find the right person to help him access the prize money.
He needed a lawyer. Not just any lawyer, but someone clever, someone who wasn't too far up their own ego to listen. A rising talent, someone who saw opportunity in the unusual. Maybe, if things worked out, he could keep them on retainer as his personal legal advisor. He'd heard of a place called "Justice Park," a reputable law firm downtown that housed dozens of lawyers, some fresh from law school, others with decades of experience. It was a starting point.
With only a few bills left in his wallet, Jack gathered the last of his cash and slipped on a tattered hoodie. Before leaving, he hesitated at the door and doubled back. He grabbed a small bottle of cheap whiskey from under the sink. A gift for the nerves, he told himself. He took a sip, then stuffed it into his coat pocket. If he was going to look like a mess, he might as well commit to the part.
The bus ride to Justice Park was uneventful. People stared at him, shifting away slightly as he entered. He couldn't blame them. With his bruised face and unwashed clothes, he looked like a man who had slept on the street. But that suited him just fine. Today was a test. He was going to see people's true characters. When a person was at their lowest, ironically, they could see the world more clearly than those in higher positions of life.
When Jack stepped into the polished marble lobby of Justice Park, the reaction was immediate. Heads turned. Conversations paused. The receptionist stared wide-eyed for a moment before quickly looking down at her keyboard. A security guard subtly shifted his stance near the front desk. Jack took a deep breath and walked farther in. He could hear the whispers as they started, low and sharp, darting from one mouth to another like gossip fireflies.
He made his way to the seating area near the front desk. Leather chairs, glass tables, and magazines with high-profile court cases on their covers. He sat down, feeling their eyes on him like heat lamps. A pair of voices stood out clearly over the murmurs. Two lawyers stood near a tall potted plant, both dressed in impeccable suits. One of them was a tall, broad-shouldered man with neatly slicked-back blond hair and a smirk that looked like it had been tattooed on his face. The other was a striking woman with sharp cheekbones, black hair in a bun, and a clipboard hugged to her chest like a fashion accessory. Their badges read Luke and Lisa.
"What's with that guy?" Luke muttered, too loudly to be subtle. "Looks like he wandered in off the street."
"Probably trying to sue the city for stepping on a broken bottle or something," Lisa replied, not even bothering to lower her voice. "You know how these people are. They come in with some sob story, hoping to land a settlement." Luke chuckled. "If he asks for pro bono, I'm out."
Jack didn't react. He sat still, letting their words roll past him like a bitter wind. He pulled out the whiskey bottle and took a small sip, watching as Lisa's eyes narrowed.
"Great," she said. "He's drinking. Inside the building."
But while most of the staff kept their distance, something different stirred behind one of the frosted glass doors nearby. A young associate named Ava sat at her desk, reviewing contracts and sipping cold coffee. She glanced through the glass and saw Jack. Where others saw a beggar, she noticed something else. He didn't slump like someone looking for pity. He looked like a man who had been hit hard but was still standing. She assumed some tragedy had befallen him. What a pity. She stood and walked toward the reception area. Lisa noticed first. "Where are you going, Ava?"
"I'm going to ask if he needs help," she replied simply.
Luke scoffed. "Good luck with that. He probably wants to use the bathroom or something." Ava approached Jack and gave him a polite smile. "Sir, can I help you with something?"
Jack looked up at her. She was young, maybe mid-twenties, but her eyes were confident. Curious. Not judgmental. He liked that. "Yeah," he said. "I'm looking for a lawyer. I've come into... a large sum of money. But I need someone smart to help me access it. Someone who won't treat me like garbage based on how I look." Ava blinked but didn't flinch. "Alright. Let's talk in my office." Jack followed her past the staring crowd. As they disappeared into the hallway, Lisa raised her brows. "Ava's wasting her time."
Luke shook his head. "She must not have a lot on her plate today."
Inside the office, Ava offered Jack a seat and some water. He declined the drink but accepted the chair gratefully. "So," she said, opening a notebook. "Tell me everything." Jack reached into his coat and pulled out the folded lottery ticket. He placed it on the table. Ava leaned in slowly, examining the numbers. Her eyes widened slightly as she pulled up a verification tool on her computer. Moments later, her hand slowly dropped the mouse. She looked at Jack with a stunned expression.
"Is it real?" he asked quietly. "It is," she replied. "This is a winning ticket. Two million dollars."
Jack nodded. "I need you to help me secure it. Handle the legal process. Help me set things up right."
Ava nodded. "You came to the right place. And the right person." Jack leaned back. The veil of judgment was gone. This woman saw past the bruises and the bottle. And now, things were finally starting to shift.
In the hallway, the whispers continued. But soon, they would be the ones trying to get a meeting with the man who looked like a beggar. And failed to see the millionaire underneath.