I WON THE LOTTERY!!

The next morning was quiet and peaceful, but inside Jack's chest, a fierce storm was churning. He had woken up earlier than usual, well before the sun had finished rising. His eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the dim light filtering through the van's curtains. He sat upright and looked around. Fredrick hadn't opened up yet. The van was quiet, and aside from a few distant sounds of the city waking up, there was nothing else. With no distractions around, his mind went to work.

He had the money now. A fortune beyond anything he had ever imagined. But now that it was in his hands, the weight of responsibility started to press down on him. His father was no longer around to guide him or clean up his mess. He was on his own, and at nineteen, it was time to stop floating through life. He needed direction, a plan, something concrete. He had to make sure the money didn't vanish like smoke. It was time to act like a man. He had to open a business, something steady, something that would keep his cash flowing. Once that was stable, he would head to college. He already pictured it in his mind. A millionaire in college. No parents. No rules. Just him deciding what limits to set. He chuckled at the thought, but even that laughter had an edge of nervousness. The world was his now, but that also meant it could crash down on him just as easily.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard the sound of keys jingling. The door clicked. Fredrick had arrived. The older man stepped in with a gentle smile, looking over at Jack with eyes that held no judgment. Jack rubbed his eyes and got out of the van. Fredrick nodded and began setting up his shop. He worked quickly, rolling out cooking tools, sauces, and ingredients with practiced ease. For a man with a food truck, Fredrick moved like a top-tier chef. And when Fredrick had said he was a great cook, he hadn't been exaggerating.

As the first rays of sunlight warmed the street, something magical happened. When Fedrick said he was a master chef, he must have been humble about it. Customers began arriving. One, then another, then a small group. Soon, it felt like the entire city had discovered the little sandwich van. They came from all directions, forming a large crowd around the truck. The once quiet and deserted street where Jack had been stranded just the other night was now alive and buzzing. Fredrick cooked fast, flipping meats, spreading sauces, and sliding out sandwiches with amazing speed. He moved like a machine but smiled like a man doing what he loved.

Despite the growing crowd, he took a moment to serve Jack first. He handed him a special plate, filled with something Jack couldn't even name, but the taste made him pause. He stared at the food, shocked. It was delicious. Around him, more people piled up. Orders were flying in, and Fredrick kept them moving, not missing a beat.

Just when Jack started to relax, he noticed a sudden shift in the crowd. Heads turned. People stepped aside. An older woman stormed forward, her eyes locked on Fredrick. Her energy was so fierce that the customers instinctively made space for her. She shoved through them, bumping shoulders without apology. Her face was tight with anger, her fists clenched. Jack immediately knew this woman was trouble. From the way Fredrick's face drained of color, he knew too. It wasn't just any woman. It was Fredrick's wife.

She didn't stop until she reached the counter, slamming her palm down with a thunderous smack. All conversations ceased. The laughter, the orders, the chewing, all of it fell into silence. Everyone turned to watch. "I want a divorce," she yelled, loud enough for the whole block to hear. "And this time, I'm serious." She yanked a folder from her handbag and slammed it on the counter. Divorce papers. Jack's heart sank. The scene was too familiar. It mirrored what had happened between him and Samantha. He winced at the memory.

Fredrick stood frozen. His lips moved, but no words came out. The tension thickened. Jack could see it written on Fredrick's face: embarrassment, fear, and frustration. The woman went on about how she was tired of struggling, how he had wasted her life chasing a dream that barely paid the bills. Fredrick signed the papers in silence, and just like that, the fight was over. But the air was heavy. The joyful mood had vanished. People looked at their food like it had turned cold. The street that had been filled with excitement now felt like a funeral.

Jack stared at his now-empty plate, sadness settling over him. Fredrick noticed. He forced a smile, trying to lift the mood. "So, Mr. Millions," he said loudly, voice light but playful, "when is the money coming? You know you promised to pay me a hundred dollars for that food. You still owe me." He ended with a wink. It was meant as a joke, but it hit the perfect note. The silence broke. People started chuckling. Then someone burst out laughing. And just like that, the spell was lifted. The crowd erupted into laughter.

But it didn't stop there. They began pointing at Jack, laughing harder now. Someone clapped mockingly. "A millionaire? Are you serious?" another yelled. The jokes came quickly and roughly. "Mr. Billions, can I get a loan?" someone else shouted. "He is sleeping in a van but talking about millions!" Jack turned to the man who had just spoken, shocked. "How did he know?" The whole street was in hysterics.

Then, a tall man in a dirty work shirt stepped forward. He shoved Jack's chest and stared him down with wild eyes. "Listen here, sir," he shouted in Jack's face, spit flying from his lips. "You didn't need to lie to that old man. He would've helped you without all that nonsense. We know Fredrick in this town. He's a good man. Are you really going to lie to someone like him? A millionaire? Really?" Laughter exploded again. Someone slapped their knee. Others were recording with their phones. Jack was starting to feel the heat. They latched on to the first gist of the day. He looked around and saw that none of them believed him. To them, he was just another smooth-talking bum. Suddenly,

Jack burst into laughter. He hadn't laughed so hard in his life. The people looked at him as if he was crazy. Did Fedrick help so much that he helped a mad man. The man that had stepped up to Jack backed up. He wasn't ready to confront someone who had escaped from a mental facility. Teary eyed from laughing. Jack looked at Fedrick and spoke. "Am laughing because your wife missed the fortune, just when luck favored you. She left. He just reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and dialed. He turned on the speaker and held it with confidence for everyone to hear. It rang twice before someone picked up. A woman's voice came through. "Hello?" Jack cleared his throat. "Is it done?" he asked, loud enough for the whole crowd to hear. The woman answered without hesitation.

"Yes sir, the money has been transferred into your account. All two million, i found a legal way to slip by taxes. Do you want me to email the receipt or forward it to the bank?" The entire street went dead silent. Mouths dropped open. Eyes bulged. The man who had palmed Jack's chest took a slow step back. Send it to the bank account we discussed. And i also need your help. Am stranded in (looks around and catches a sign board). Harper ville, send a car to get me"

"Oh, I am right around there, I can get you.

You could hear a pin drop. Fredrick blinked in disbelief. The laughter had stopped. Some people even gasped. Jack ended the call without saying a word and slipped the phone back into his pocket. It didn't take people long to assume it was an act. That was more believable than a millionaire eating from a food truck. They burst out into laughter. "This guy really knows how to put on a show."

"Does he think we are children? That's probably why he has no home. And it looks for places to sleep. He doesn'tuse his brains."

"Get this guy outta here he's disturbing the business." Jack didn't say a word. He just sat there and sipped his tea.