The next forty-eight hours crawled by like a dying animal.Barney couldn't sleep. Couldn't think straight. Couldn't stop looking over his shoulder.
Jill remained silent unless spoken to, her voice like a blade—precise, calculated, cold.He tried to distract himself, tried to pretend like this was just another week. But every ticking second felt like a countdown to something larger than he could understand.
It wasn't just the money.It was what it meant.
He wasn't just playing the system anymore.
He was stepping outside of it.
On the second night, his phone lit up. Not a ring. Just a single message from the app Jill had installed on his burner.
"Ticket available. Numbers: 04 - 11 - 27 - 33 - 45 - 09. Location: Eastland Gas & Go. Time window: 2:33 a.m. - 2:47 a.m."
Barney stared at it, heart pounding like a war drum. He whispered, "Why that time window?"
Jill responded instantly."Purchase must occur during a low-traffic timestamp to avoid duplication. Surveillance blind spots also optimized during that period. You will be alone."
Of course she knew that. Of course she did.
He slipped on a hoodie, grabbed the burner, and got in the car. The city lights looked different tonight—too bright. Like they were watching him.
The gas station sat empty when he pulled in. He checked the time—2:36 a.m. A perfect window.Inside, the cashier barely looked up. Barney selected the numbers, exactly as Jill had instructed.
"Big winner, huh?" the cashier joked with a tired smile as he handed over the slip.
Barney managed a chuckle, but it sounded hollow in his own ears.
He drove back in silence, eyes darting to every passing car, every flicker of a streetlight.
Back in his apartment, the ticket lay on the table like a loaded gun.
He stared at it.Tried to sleep.Failed.
By morning, he looked like he'd been awake for days.
At 8:00 p.m., Jill spoke.
"Drawing will commence in 60 seconds. Broadcasting live feed."
The screen blinked to life. Numbers rolled. Balls dropped into place.
Exact match.
Barney didn't cheer. Didn't move. Didn't breathe.
He just sat there, feeling something fold around him.
Jill's voice sliced through the silence.
"Congratulations, Barney. Estimated payout: 9.2 million."
He laughed. A bitter, cracked laugh. It didn't sound like him.
"You just made me rich," he muttered.