The lottery office opened at nine in the morning. Ethan was waiting outside the doors at eight thirty, his winning ticket secured in a waterproof envelope inside his jacket pocket. He'd barely slept, his mind racing with plans and possibilities, each one more elaborate than the last.
When the doors finally unlocked, a cheerful woman in a blazer greeted him. "Good morning! How can I help you today?"
Ethan pulled out his ticket. "I need to claim a prize."
The woman's professional smile widened as she took the ticket and scanned it. Then her eyes went wide, her hand trembling slightly as she looked up at him. "Oh my god. Oh my god, you're, you're the Mega Millions winner!"
Within minutes, Ethan was ushered into a private office where three lottery officials waited. They explained his options with practiced efficiency. He could take the annuity, receiving payments over thirty years, or the lump sum of approximately one hundred and eighty million after federal taxes.
"Lump sum," Ethan said without hesitation. He needed the money now, not spread out over decades he might not survive.
The officials exchanged glances. Most winners chose the annuity, seduced by the promise of the full advertised amount. But Ethan knew what was coming. In seventeen days, the financial system would begin to collapse. Annuity payments would mean nothing when banks failed and society crumbled.
"Are you certain?" one of the officials asked. "The annuity option provides long term financial security and,"
"I'm certain," Ethan interrupted. "Lump sum. Today, if possible."
They processed his claim with a mixture of congratulations and barely concealed envy. Ethan signed form after form, declining the publicity photo opportunity, refusing to have his name released to the media. The officials tried to convince him otherwise, explaining that lottery winners traditionally did press conferences, and that it was good for public relations.
"No," Ethan said firmly. "I want complete anonymity. That's non-negotiable."
Fortunately, the state allowed anonymous claims for prizes over a certain threshold. It would cost him extra in legal fees to set up the proper trusts and entities, but it was worth it. The last thing he needed was Margaret and Robert seeing his face on the news, realizing what he'd meant when he said he'd have plenty of money.
By noon, the initial paperwork was complete. The full sum would be transferred to his account within seventy-two hours. Ethan walked out of the lottery office a multimillionaire, though no one looking at him would know it. He still wore the same jeans and jacket from yesterday, still looked like an ordinary young man with nothing special about him.
Perfect.
His first stop was a bank, not the small local branch where he'd had his meager savings account, but a private wealth management firm downtown. The kind of place that catered to people with serious money. He'd researched it the night before, knew they had experience handling sudden windfalls and maintaining discretion.
The receptionist looked skeptical when Ethan walked in, clearly assessing his modest appearance and finding him wanting. "Do you have an appointment?"
"No, but I need to speak with someone about setting up accounts for a significant deposit. Approximately one hundred and eighty million dollars."
The skepticism vanished instantly. Within minutes, Ethan was in a private conference room with a senior wealth manager named Patricia Hamilton, a sharp-eyed woman in her fifties who radiated competence.
"Mr. Cross," she said, shaking his hand firmly. "I understand you've recently come into some money?"
"The Mega Millions jackpot," Ethan confirmed. "I need accounts set up immediately, investment strategies that can be liquidated quickly if necessary, and absolute discretion."
Patricia didn't even blink. "Of course. Let me outline some options for you."
They spent the next two hours discussing trusts, offshore accounts, investment portfolios, and asset protection strategies. Ethan listened carefully, asking questions, pushing back on suggestions that didn't align with his needs. He needed liquidity and flexibility. Traditional long-term investments were useless to him.
"I want a significant portion kept in liquid assets," he explained. "Cash equivalents, precious metals, things I can access immediately."
Patricia frowned slightly. "That's unusual. Most wealth preservation strategies focus on growth and,"
"I understand, but my situation is unique. I need flexibility more than I need growth."
She made notes, her pen scratching across paper. "May I ask what you're planning? Large purchases? Business investments?"
Ethan smiled blandly. "Let's just say I'm preparing for uncertain times."
By the time he left the bank, he had multiple accounts established, temporary access to a line of credit against his incoming windfall, and a clear financial structure that would allow him to move money quickly when needed. Patricia had also recommended a lawyer who specialized in asset protection and an accountant who could handle the tax implications of his sudden wealth.
Ethan's next stop was a real estate office. Not one of the cheerful agencies that helped families find suburban homes, but a commercial firm that dealt in industrial properties and land acquisitions. He had very specific requirements.
The agent, a thin man named Marcus Chen, no relation to his former family thankfully, listened as Ethan outlined what he needed. "I'm looking for a property outside the city. Isolated, at least fifty acres. It needs to have access to underground water sources, ideally some existing structures, and it needs to be available for immediate purchase."
Marcus pulled up listings on his computer. "That's a pretty specific set of requirements. Can I ask what you're planning to do with the property?"
"Private development," Ethan said vaguely. "I value my privacy."
They spent an hour reviewing options. Most were too close to populated areas or lacked the features Ethan needed. Then Marcus pulled up a listing that made Ethan lean forward with interest.
"This one just came on the market yesterday," Marcus explained. "It's an old Cold War era facility, built in the sixties as a private bunker by some wealthy industrialist who was convinced nuclear war was imminent. It's got seventy acres, completely isolated, its own well system, and a reinforced underground structure that's still intact. The previous owner died last year and the estate is liquidating assets."
Ethan studied the photos. The surface buildings were run down, but the underground portion looked promising. Concrete walls, multiple chambers, old but functional ventilation systems. It would need work, extensive renovations and modern upgrades, but the bones were there.
"How much?" he asked.
"They're asking eight million, but I think we could negotiate down. The estate wants a quick sale."
"I'll pay the asking price for immediate closing. No inspection period, no contingencies. Cash offer."
Marcus blinked. "That's, you're serious?"
"Completely. Draw up the papers today. I want to close within the week."
The agent's hands shook slightly as he began typing. "I'll need to verify you have the funds available."
Ethan provided Patricia Hamilton's contact information. "Call her. She'll confirm everything."
While Marcus made the call, Ethan studied the property photos more carefully. The location was perfect, far enough from the city that refugees wouldn't easily reach it, isolated enough that he could fortify it properly. The underground bunker would protect him from the worst of the freeze. With proper modifications, renewable power sources, and sufficient supplies, he could survive there indefinitely.
Marcus hung up the phone, his expression slightly dazed. "Your banker confirms you have the funds. I'll start the paperwork immediately."
"Good. I also need recommendations for contractors. People who can work quickly and discreetly on renovations. Money is no object, but I need the work done within two weeks."
"Two weeks?" Marcus looked doubtful. "That's not a lot of time for any kind of serious renovation."
"I have a hundred and eighty million dollars," Ethan said flatly. "I'm sure we can find people willing to work around the clock for the right price."
Understanding dawned on Marcus's face. When you had that kind of money, normal timelines didn't apply. "I'll make some calls."
By the time Ethan left the real estate office, he had a property purchase in motion and a list of contractors who specialized in rapid construction and weren't afraid of unusual projects. His phone buzzed with a text from Patricia confirming that the initial funds from his credit line were available for immediate use.
Everything was falling into place.