She Said We’d Be Rich

I walked for a full three hours before I finally arrived at my destination.

Half the streetlights in this residential area were broken, and the air was thick with the stench of open drainage.

As long as I could find the clues Lydia left behind, I would be able to expose Austin's plot.

I climbed up to the sixth floor in the dark, panting as I pulled out my keys. I slid one into the lock, but no matter how hard I turned it, it would not move.

I twisted again and again until red marks bloomed across my palm.

Then came a sharp crack.

The key snapped cleanly inside the lock.

I stared at the broken half still in my hand, completely stunned.

At that moment, the security door swung open from inside.

A middle-aged woman in pajamas blocked the doorway, a spatula still clutched in her hand.

It was our landlord, Mrs. Wesley.

"Well, well. Look at you. A shameless thing like you actually dares to come back here."

Her booming voice triggered all the motion-sensor lights in the hallway. They flicked on one after another.

She grabbed a fistful of my hair.

"Ow! That hurts! Mrs. Wesley, let go! We can talk this out!"

I tilted my head along with her grip, my neck feeling like it was about to snap.

"Talk it out? When you ran off owing me three months of rent, did you talk it out then?

"You left trash piled up everywhere, scribbled all over the walls, and didn't clean a thing!

"Now, you're back. What? Planning to steal something? I should haul you straight to the police station!"

That sent me into a panic.

Ignoring the burning pain in my scalp, I shouted, "What unpaid rent? Didn't Lydia just transfer money to you last week?

"She said she not only covered the rent, she even gave you an extra hundred thousand as compensation!

"That's a hundred thousand! You greedy old miser! Are you trying to deny it?"

Mrs. Wesley froze for a second, then burst out laughing.

She released my hair, turned around, and grabbed a thick stack of something from the shoe cabinet by the door. Without warning, she hurled it straight at my face.

"Take a good look at it. This is your so-called hundred thousand?"

The papers fluttered to the ground.

I bent down to pick one up. Under the dim yellow hallway light, I finally saw what was printed on it.

Some words were printed across it in bold letters.

[Monopoly Bank]

I stared at the fake bills covered in cartoon patterns, my entire body trembling.

It was not the usual banknote print. In fact, those were Monopoly notes, a whole stack of toy money.

My mind exploded with a dull roar.

"No, that's impossible. Lydia clearly withdrew the money from the bank."

I dropped to my knees, rummaging through the scattered piles, desperately searching for even a single real bill.

"I told you already. How dare you!"

Yesterday, when we swiped our cards at Hermès, the sales assistants were smiling so brightly.

When we paid at the Michelin restaurant, the manager had personally walked us out, even bowing as we left.

How could it be that in the blink of an eye, money had turned into toy cash?

Was Lydia really a fraud?

"Come on! We're going to the police station! We'll get this resolved today!"

Mrs. Wesley tossed aside the spatula and grabbed my wrist.

I jolted awake in a flash of clarity. No, I could not go to the police station.

If I went in, I would never find Lydia.

She had to be waiting for me to rescue her.

This money must have been swapped out by Austin.

I leaned forward and sank my teeth into the back of Mrs. Wesley's hand.

"Argh! You rabid dog!"

She screamed in pain and loosened her grip. I seized the chance and bolted down the stairs, not daring to look back even once.

Behind me came her furious curses and the sound of neighbors opening their doors.

I ran all the way out of the compound, only stopping when I could no longer catch my breath.

That was when my stomach growled.

Hunger.

The burning in my gut made my vision blur. I leaned against a roadside utility pole and stared across the street at a child gnawing on a chicken drumstick inside KFC.

I wanted to rush in, snatch it away, and stuff it into my mouth.

My mind drifted back to the Michelin meal I had shared with Lydia just the previous day. The foie gras melting on my tongue, the lobster bursting with juice.

How had it been only one day, and yet I had fallen so far that I was drooling on the street like this?