After Winning the Lottery My Family Plotted to Kill Me

“No need,” I said casually. “I just double-checked every number, and my ticket didn't win. Don’t you trust me?”

“It’s not that,” Rosie replied. “But what if you did win and just made a mistake? Wouldn't we lose our only shot? There’s no harm in letting me take another look.”

I deliberately slipped the lottery ticket into my pocket. “So you don’t believe me, huh? I’m not showing it to you.”

Rosie pouted playfully, then stuffed a steamed bun into my hand. “Fine, fine. Don’t show me. You must be hungry—go on, eat.”

I held the bun and headed for the door. “It’s a nice day. I’m going out for some fresh air.”

I just needed a moment away—to clear my head and calm my racing heart.

But as I turned the corner down the alley, my chest suddenly tightened.

The lottery ticket was gone.

My blood ran cold.

I spun around and sprinted back toward home. From a distance, I could see Rosie standing stiffly at the doorway, her face was pale as a sheet.

And in her hand—was my ticket.

She raised her hand to tear it apart.

I lunged forward and snatched it back just in time, then turned and ran without looking back.

Behind me, I heard her shout in fury. “Brother, you can’t cash that ticket!”

In my previous life, right up until my dying breath, I never understood why Rosie—the sweet, affectionate sister who had clung to me since childhood—had suddenly become a different person the moment she learned I’d won the lottery.

There had been something poisonous in her eyes that I’d never seen before.

Now, she was chasing after me with everything she had. I was still injured, and she caught up quickly.

Trembling, I cried out at the top of my lungs. “Help! Rosie is trying to kill me!”

The alley was lined with familiar neighbors. Hearing my cries, people began coming out of their homes to see what was happening.

Rosie hadn’t expected that.

Realizing she couldn’t get away with it now, I turned and dropped to my knees in front of her, tears streaming down my face.

“Rosie, we’re about to have a good life. Why would you try to destroy the ticket?”

Her expression twisted. She gritted her teeth and hissed under her breath, “Shut your filthy mouth, you bastard.”

She grabbed me and tried to drag me away—but by then, some neighbors had already rushed over.

Mr. Olson from next door pulled her off me with a scowl. “What are you doing, hitting your own brother?”

Others began chiming in.

“We heard something about a winning lottery ticket—why are you getting violent over such a great thing?”

“Even if he’s your brother, hitting someone is still against the law. Touch him again and we’ll call the police!”

Rosie stood there panting, veins bulging in her neck, her eyes locked on me with hatred.

But with so many people watching, she couldn’t do anything.

Then, suddenly, she gave a sweet smile—but not to me.

She was looking over my shoulder.

I turned to see what she was smiling at—and froze.

Dad was coming.

From a distance, he saw us surrounded by neighbors. His brows furrowed immediately. It didn’t take a genius to guess something was wrong.

As he walked closer, my whole body tensed.

The neighbors started talking over each other, telling him Rosie had hit me.

Dad’s face twisted with rage. Without a word, he raised his hand and aimed a slap at her face.

But just as the blow was about to land, Rosie screamed, “Brother won five million dollars in the lottery!”

My heart stopped.

“No! That’s not true—she’s mistaken!” I said, my voice was shaking, my eyes burning with panic.

“It’s true! I took a photo of the ticket!” she snapped, holding her phone out to him, breathless with excitement.

Dad’s eyes fell on the screen. His pupils twitched. Then his gaze froze, locked on the image.

I called out, voice barely a whisper, “Dad...”

He looked up slowly, eyes bloodshot.

And then—he slapped me across the face.