Chapter 1: The Offer No One Understands

Would you rather get $140 million all at once, or $1.50 every minute? Which would you pick?

Out of nowhere, a bizarre pop-up hijacked my computer screen.

"What kind of question is that? Of course I'd take the $140 million," Barry said, sitting across from me, shaking his head.

He snorted in that classic, know-it-all way of his, arms crossed, giving me a look like I’d lost my mind for even pausing. Barry always acted like he’d cracked the code to life, even if his car was held together by duct tape and sheer optimism. Cheat code for life, right? I almost laughed, but the question gnawed at me.

My index finger hovered over the keyboard. My stomach twisted, a weird prickle crawling up my neck. Was I really about to do this?

A weird chill ran down my spine, like right before a thunderstorm hits. I stared at the screen, pulse thrumming in my ears. Was this for real? Was I about to make the biggest mistake of my life?

With a beep, I went for the option on the right—the one that felt totally foolish.

I clicked. A tiny, almost guilty thrill fluttered in my chest. Why did it feel like I’d just stepped into some weird, forbidden game?

At exactly midnight, my phone buzzed with a bank app notification I hadn’t expected at all.

Your checking account XXXX received a daily transfer of $7,200 on April 25th. Balance after transaction: $7,225.

I blinked at the glowing numbers, my brain scrambling to catch up. Who sends $7,200 at midnight? The old fluorescent light above my desk flickered overhead, turning the moment even more surreal.

At the same time, my phone’s lock screen suddenly flashed:

[Survival time +480 minutes]

The numbers pulsed faintly, like a digital heartbeat. My thumb hovered, uncertain—was this some elaborate prank? Or was I just dreaming, slumped over spreadsheets again?

The next day, Barry’s cubicle sat empty.

His desk looked untouched—just a lone coffee mug and a half-eaten granola bar left behind. The chair was pushed in, like he’d just stepped out for coffee and never came back.

HR said he had "resigned voluntarily."

But I felt like I knew what really happened.

A cold, crawling feeling crept into my gut. Barry was always ambitious, but never reckless. Did he see the same pop-up? Did he make the other choice?

1

For seven straight days, my phone vibrated right at midnight.

Your checking account XXXX received a daily transfer of $158,437. Balance after transaction: $158,437.

Six digits.

I stared at my phone, my heart pounding even harder than it did on my first date with my husband.

I could still remember that night—standing outside the old movie theater, my hands clammy, cheeks burning with nerves. But this? This was a different kind of adrenaline, one that made my whole body hum and buzz.

After getting married, buying a house, paying off loans, raising a kid—the numbers in our bank account always felt like sand slipping through my fingers. No matter how hard we tried, we could never save up.

Every bonus disappeared into bills. Every holiday meant another dip into savings. We’d become pros at stretching a dollar. Still, security always felt just out of reach. Sometimes I’d lie awake, thinking, Will it ever be enough?

But now, it was finally starting to flow back in.

Each new deposit felt like rain in a drought, a slow, steady filling of a well I’d thought was dry for good.

And at the top of my lock screen, that strange line—"Survival time +10,560 minutes"—looked like some kind of silent countdown. I stared at it, not sure whether to feel lucky or scared.

It ticked up each night, as if measuring out my life in invisible increments. I started to wonder: what was I really trading for this windfall?

"Honey, the company gave me a bonus."

I held my fork, trying to sound casual, like I was just mentioning the weather.

I forced a lightness into my voice, but my hands shook under the table, the fork rattling against my plate.

"How much?" He didn’t even look up, busy picking bones from the chicken for our daughter.

He always did that—methodically, patiently, making sure Ellie never choked. It was his way of showing love, hidden in the small, careful things.

"A hundred and fifty thousand."

Clatter.

His fork dropped.

"Really?" He looked up so fast, I saw a long-lost brightness flicker in his eyes. "Babe, then Ellie’s tuition for next semester..."

His voice cracked, just for a second. I saw hope there—raw, unguarded, almost childlike.

"Mm, it’s enough." I ducked my head, scooping up mashed potatoes, my throat tightening.

I blinked fast, not wanting him to see the tears stinging at the corners of my eyes.

Mortgage, other debts, private kindergarten...

The list spun in my mind like a hamster wheel I couldn’t get off. Every month, another payment, another worry, another what-if.