The Accidental Wealth

Chapter 10

Jackson stepped out of the hospital, blinking in the bright sunlight. The automatic doors whooshed shut behind him, cutting off the antiseptic smell that had become all too familiar. He took a deep breath, savoring the scent of car exhaust and hot asphalt. Ah, freedom.

His hand instinctively went to his pocket, feeling for his phone. He pulled it out, squinting at the screen to recheck his bank balance. Yep, it was still there. $89,000 and change. He let out a low whistle.

"From zero to hero in one day," he muttered. "Take that, universe."

A passing jogger gave him an odd look. Jackson realized he was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, grinning like an i***t at his phone. He cleared his throat and tried to look nonchalant as if staring at one's bank account with a dopey smile, which was normal outside a hospital.

He started walking with no particular destination in mind. His feet carried him down the street while his mind raced with possibilities. What does one do with a sudden influx of cash and a mysterious voice in their head?

"Buy a yacht?" he wondered aloud. An elderly woman walking her chihuahua shot him a concerned glance.

"Sorry," he said, giving her an awkward wave. "Just... thinking out loud. About yachts. You know, as one does."

The woman hurried past, dragging her tiny dog along. Jackson could have sworn the chihuahua gave him a judgmental look.

"Everyone's a critic," he grumbled.

He continued down the street, his mind still buzzing with ideas. A sports car? Too cliché. A trip around the world? Maybe, but he'd need a passport first. A solid gold toilet? Now that had potential.

"Congratulations on your newfound wealth, darling. $89,000 is quite the windfall. So, where to now, big spender?"

Jackson stumbled, nearly tripping over his own feet. He glanced around, half-expecting to see a floating hologram or something equally sci-fi. Nope, just ordinary pedestrians giving him a wide berth.

"Jesus, warn a guy before you pop into his head," Jackson muttered. "I don't know, maybe I'll go home and figure things out. My apartment's not far from here."

The disembodied voice of Quantum Quill laughed, a sound that seemed to echo inside Jackson's skull. He winced, rubbing his temples.

"Oh, darling, you are adorable. Home? To that dreary little apartment? I wouldn't recommend it."

"Why not? It's not much, but it's mine. Well, mine and Veronica's, I guess."

"Ah yes, Veronica," QQ's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Your oh-so-faithful girlfriend. Tell me, how do you think she's spending her afternoon?"

A sinking feeling settled in Jackson's stomach. "What are you getting at?"

"Let's just say, if you go home now, you might find her engaged in some... vigorous physical activity. With someone who isn't you. Again."

"Again? What do you mean, again?"

"Darling, why do you think you were hit by that bus? You were distracted after catching her with another man, weren't you?"

The memory hit Jackson like, well, a bus. Veronica tangled up with some faceless guy. The shock, the hurt, the blind rush out of the apartment. The screech of tires...

"Oh god. I'd almost forgotten."

"Repressed memories are such pesky things," QQ chirped.

"Well," he said, his voice tight, "I guess I should pay Veronica a visit. Maybe slap her for good measure."

"All the best, darling," QQ chirped in his head. "Do not get hit by another bus on your way there."

Jackson rolled his eyes. "Your concern is touching."

He set off towards his apartment, his steps growing quicker as anger and hurt fueled his pace. The familiar streets seemed to mock him, reminding him of all the times he'd walked this route, blissfully unaware of Veronica's betrayal.

He passed the corner store where they'd bought ice cream on hot summer nights, the park bench where they'd shared their first kiss. Those memories felt tainted, like finding a worm in a perfect apple.

As he approached his apartment building, Jackson's pace slowed. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the confrontation ahead. The old elevator creaked and groaned as it carried him to the fifth floor. He half-expected to hear the sounds of Veronica's infidelity echoing through the hallway, but all was quiet.

Standing in front of his door, Jackson hesitated. Should he use his key? No, he decided. He'd ring the bell. Let Veronica sweat a little, wondering who was at the door.

He pressed the button, hearing the familiar chime echo inside the apartment. His heart raced as he waited, scenarios playing out in his mind. Would she be alone? With someone? How would she react to seeing him?

The door creaked open, and Jackson's rehearsed speech died on his lips. Instead of Veronica's guilty face, he found himself staring at an elderly woman. She peered up at him through thick glasses, her white hair done up in curlers.

"Yes?" she asked, her voice quavering slightly. "Who are you?"

Jackson blinked, momentarily stunned. "I... This is my apartment," he managed to stammer out.

The old woman's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Your apartment? Young man, I think you must be mistaken. I've been living here for the past eight years."