That night, with eight dollars left to my name, I bought a $2 lottery ticket. At 11:17 p.m., every number flashed across the screen. $300 million. In that instant, the couch that had been my prison became my launching pad. Within weeks, I owned a farmhouse, land, and freedom. Months later, when Marvin came begging for help, roles reversed. My “temporary exile” had become a kingdom, and I held the keys.
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