Jayden Bill stared at the two crumpled dollar bills in his palm like they were a death sentence.
Which, in about six hours, they basically were.
The 2007 Honda Civic—his current bedroom, dining room, and pretty much entire world—smelled like old french fries and broken dreams. The passenger seat was buried under a collection of losing lottery tickets, each one a small monument to his stupidity. The dashboard had three warning lights on. He'd stopped caring which ones about a week ago.
His phone buzzed. Again.
Michelle (47 missed calls)
Jayden's thumb hovered over the notification. He could see the voicemail icon. Number 48. His little sister—no, not little anymore, she was 25 now, had her life together, had an actual apartment—had probably left another message begging him to come stay with her. To get help. To stop.
He pressed play.
"Jay..." Michelle's voice cracked immediately, and Jayden felt his chest tighten. "It's been three days. I know you're alive because your location is still sharing, but... please. Just come over. I made extra dinner. You don't have to talk about it, just... please don't do anything stupid with whatever money you have left. It won't fix anything. It never does. I love you. Please call me back."
The message ended.
Jayden looked at the two dollars again.
She was right. She was always right. Two dollars couldn't do anything. Couldn't pay the $500,000 he owed Vincent Carter. Couldn't get him an apartment. Couldn't buy more than a gas station hot dog and maybe a small coffee. Couldn't undo the last eight years of his life spiraling down the drain.
Two dollars was nothing.
But...
Jayden's fingers twitched.
But what if it wasn't?
That was the thought that always came. The thought that had gotten him here, sleeping in his car in a 7-Eleven parking lot at 2 AM on a Tuesday. The thought that had cost him his job as an accountant—ironic, really, couldn't manage his own money but was trusted with other people's. The thought that had cost him his apartment, his girlfriend, his dignity, and very nearly his relationship with the only family he had left.
What if?
What if these two dollars could become four? Then eight? Then sixteen? What if this was the turnaround? What if his luck was finally changing? What if—
"You're doing it again," he muttered to himself, but his hand was already reaching for the door handle.
The night air hit him like a slap. October in the city was cold, and his jacket—the only jacket he owned now—was too thin. Jayden walked across the parking lot, past the gas pumps, toward the convenience store entrance. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like they were judging him.
The clerk behind the counter didn't even look up. Probably used to degenerates like Jayden shuffling in at 2 AM.
The scratch-off display was right there. Mocking him. Calling to him. Twenty different games, each one promising INSTANT CASH! or BIG MONEY! or YOU COULD WIN $100,000!
His therapist—back when he could afford therapy—had explained it once. The dopamine hit. The near-misses designed to keep you hooked. The way the brain couldn't tell the difference between almost winning and actually winning, so it kept chasing that high.
Jayden knew all of this.
He walked up to the counter anyway.
"Two Lucky 7s," he heard himself say.
The clerk—a tired-looking guy in his fifties with a nametag that said RAMON—barely glanced at him. "Two dollars."
Jayden placed his last two bills on the counter. They looked even more pathetic under the harsh store lighting.
Ramon handed him two tickets. Silver scratch-off surface. Little pictures of lucky sevens and dollar signs. The same lies he'd bought a thousand times before.
Jayden took them and walked outside.
The parking lot was empty except for his sad little Civic and a pickup truck that had been there since yesterday. He sat down on the curb, under the buzzing light, and pulled out a penny from his pocket—his lucky penny, though its luck had proven to be absolutely garbage.
First ticket.
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
Seven. Not a seven. Not a seven.
Nothing.
His heart sank, but he'd expected it. That was the thing about gambling addiction—you always expected to lose, but you couldn't stop hoping you'd win.
Second ticket. His last chance. His last two dollars, split between two pieces of cardboard that would probably end up on his passenger seat pile.
Jayden scratched off the first symbol.
Then his phone rang.
Not Michelle this time. The caller ID made his blood run cold.
VINCENT CARTER
Jayden's hand started shaking. Vincent didn't call unless it was serious. Vincent sent his guys—Tank and Rico, two mountains of muscle who'd already "visited" Jayden twice this month with increasingly specific threats about which bones break easiest.
He answered. "Mr. Carter."
"Jaybill." Vincent's voice was smooth, almost friendly. That was worse than when he was angry. "You know what time it is?"
"Two AM?"
"Wrong. It's six hours until our appointment. You remember our appointment, right? The one where you were supposed to have my money?"
Jayden's mouth went dry. "I remember."
"Good. Because Tank's been practicing his kneecap technique, and Rico just bought a new baseball bat. I'd hate for them to be disappointed."
"I just need a little more time—"
"Time?" Vincent laughed, cold and sharp. "Jaybill, I gave you time. Three months ago. Then two months ago. Then last month. I've been patient. But my patience, like your credit, is maxed out. Eight AM. The warehouse on Fifth. You show up with my money, or you show up anyway and we have a different conversation. Understand?"
The line went dead.
Jayden sat there, phone in one hand, scratch-off ticket in the other, and felt the full weight of his life choices crushing down on him.
Six hours.
He looked down at the unfinished ticket. Two symbols already scratched. The third one was covered, waiting. Not that it mattered. It was over. He was done.
But his hand moved anyway.
Scratch.
Nothing. Of course nothing. Another seven would've won him five dollars. Might've bought him a coffee before Vincent's guys turned him into a pretzel.
Jayden let the ticket flutter to the ground.
He should call Michelle. Say goodbye, probably. She deserved better than a brother who'd gambled away every chance she'd given him. Their parents had left them enough money to start fresh after the accident, and Jayden had blown through his half in two years. Michelle had invested hers, started a career, made something of herself.
And Jayden? Jayden was sitting in a 7-Eleven parking lot at 2 AM with zero dollars, zero prospects, and six hours until two very large men discussed his bone structure with him.
He pulled out his phone to call Michelle.
That's when the scratch-off ticket on the ground started glowing.
At first, Jayden thought it was a reflection from the store lights. Then he thought he was hallucinating—lack of sleep, stress, his brain finally giving up. But no. The ticket was definitely glowing. Bright gold light, getting brighter, like someone had stuffed a flashlight underneath it.
"What the..."
He reached for it.
The moment his fingers touched the ticket, his vision exploded with light.
Words appeared in the air in front of him. Not on a screen. Not projected. Just... there. Floating. In gold letters that looked like something from a casino sign.
[ULTIMATE UNLIMITED JACKPOT SYSTEM INITIALIZING...]
[SCANNING HOST...]
[HOST IDENTIFIED: JAYDEN "JAYBILL" BILL]
[GAMBLING ADDICTION DETECTED]
[DEBT LEVEL: CATASTROPHIC]
[SURVIVAL PROBABILITY: 0.003%]
[PERFECT CANDIDATE CONFIRMED]
[SYSTEM ACTIVATION COMPLETE]
Jayden scrambled backward, his back hitting the brick wall of the convenience store. "I'm losing it. I'm actually losing it. This is a mental breakdown. This is—"
[YOU ARE NOT HALLUCINATING]
[CONGRATULATIONS, JAYBILL!]
[YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED FOR THE ULTIMATE UNLIMITED JACKPOT SYSTEM]
[FROM THIS MOMENT FORWARD, YOU CANNOT LOSE]
[EVERY GAMBLE. EVERY BET. EVERY GAME OF CHANCE.]
[YOU. WILL. WIN.]
The words pulsed, each one brighter than the last. Then new text appeared.
[TUTORIAL QUEST ACTIVATED]
[QUEST: WIN YOUR FIRST BET]
[REWARD: $1,000]
[NOTE: THE SYSTEM WORKS ON ALL FORMS OF GAMBLING]
[SPORTS, CARDS, DICE, LOTTERY, COIN FLIPS, ANYTHING WITH ODDS]
[GOOD LUCK! (JUST KIDDING, YOU DON'T NEED IT ANYMORE)]
Jayden stared at the floating words. His brain had officially broken. That was the only explanation. The stress of Vincent Carter's deadline had finally snapped something upstairs, and now he was seeing things.
But...
He looked down at his hands. They felt real. The cold pavement under him felt real. The buzzing light above felt real.
And the golden words floating in his vision felt... impossible, but somehow also real.
"Okay," Jayden whispered to the empty parking lot. "Okay. I'm either having a psychotic break, or I'm dreaming, or..." He trailed off. Or what? Or magic was real? Or some cosmic force had decided to fix his life?
Yeah, right.
Still.
He looked back at the convenience store. Ramon was visible through the window, reading something on his phone.
Jayden stood up. His legs felt shaky. He walked back inside.
The door chime sounded.
Ramon looked up, bored. "Forget something?"
"Yeah." Jayden pointed at the scratch-off display. "One more. The Diamond Jackpot."
"That one's five dollars."
"I don't have five dollars."
Ramon shrugged. "Then I can't sell it to you."
Jayden's mind raced. He needed to test this. Needed to know if he was crazy or if something impossible had just happened. "What if... what if we make a bet?"
Ramon raised an eyebrow. "A bet?"
"Coin flip. I win, you give me the ticket free. You win, I'll..." Jayden looked around desperately. "I'll clean your store. Whole night shift. Free labor."
Ramon studied him for a long moment. Then, surprisingly, he smiled. "You know what? Sure. I'm bored anyway. But you're cleaning the bathroom too."
"Deal."
Ramon pulled out a quarter from the register. "Call it in the air." He flipped the coin.
Jayden watched it spin, catching the fluorescent light. Time seemed to slow down. He could see the coin rotating, over and over. Heads. Tails. Heads. Tails.
"Heads," Jayden called.
The coin reached its peak and started falling.
That's when Jayden saw it happen.
The coin was going to land tails. He could somehow tell. But right before it hit Ramon's palm, it... stuttered. Like a video game glitch. The coin flickered, and suddenly it was showing heads instead.
It landed in Ramon's palm.
Heads.
Ramon stared at it, frowning. "Huh. Alright, deal's a deal." He grabbed a Diamond Jackpot ticket and handed it over. "You got lucky, man."
Jayden took the ticket with numb fingers.
[QUEST COMPLETE!]
[REWARD: $1,000]
[DEPOSITING FUNDS...]
[ERROR: NO BANK ACCOUNT DETECTED]
[ALTERNATIVE DELIVERY METHOD ENGAGED]
Jayden's phone buzzed. He pulled it out and saw a notification from an app he'd never downloaded.
[JACKPOT SYSTEM WALLET]
[BALANCE: $1,000]
[FUNDS CAN BE TRANSFERRED TO ANY ACCOUNT OR WITHDRAWN AS CASH AT YOUR CONVENIENCE]
Jayden looked up at Ramon. Then at the ticket in his hand. Then at his phone. Then back at the floating golden words that only he could see.
[WELCOME TO YOUR NEW LIFE, JAYBILL]
[THE HOUSE ALWAYS WINS...]
[...UNLESS YOU'RE AT THE TABLE]
For the first time in eight years, Jayden Bill smiled.
Not because he thought he'd win.
But because he knew he couldn't lose.
---
[END CHAPTER 1]