After Winning Lottery for Five Million Dollars, My Family Locked Me with a Starving Wolfhound

That was when I realized the truth—my entire family didn’t want me to cash in the lottery prize.

Panicked, I waved my hands, desperate to explain.

“Mom, Dad, this money isn’t just mine! With it, my brother can start a family, Dad won’t have to keep dodging debt collectors, Mom can finally get the treatment and surgery she needs... and I can go back to college! This is a blessing—it’s God giving us a way to survive!”

But they didn’t listen.

Mom and Dad exchanged tense glances, brows furrowed in silent panic.

Then Dad said grimly, “We can’t let this girl leave the house anymore.”

Mom’s face twisted into a cruel grimace. “I have an idea,” she muttered. “Put her in the basement with the wolfhounds.”

I froze. A chill crawled down my spine.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My own parents—planning to lock me up with wild dogs?

Why? Why were they acting like completely different people?

We were drowning in poverty. Five million dollars should’ve been a miracle, a reason to rejoice. Why did it feel like the end of the world instead?

Before I could even make sense of it all, Mom and Dad grabbed me and dragged me toward the basement.

Terrified, I turned and tried to run, but my brother caught me and held me tight.

I cried. I begged them to let me go. I even offered to give them the lottery ticket—to let them cash it instead.

But none of it mattered.

They ignored every plea and forced me down into that dark, damp, foul-smelling basement.

They gave me nothing to eat or drink. And worst of all, they locked me in there with a starving wolfhound.

My family knew—I had been attacked by a wild dog when I was little. I was terrified of dogs. Always had been.

The moment I saw the beast, I went numb with fear. My knees buckled.

I pounded on the door until my fists bled, screaming, begging them to let me out.

But no one came.

No one listened.

Then the wolfhound lunged.

Its jaws clamped down on my thigh, ripping out a chunk of flesh in one bite.

The metallic stench of blood flooded my senses. The pain was unbearable. I blacked out.

***

The next morning, my parents and brother came down to check on me.

Mom stood there smiling, as if nothing had happened. “Stella, you must be hungry,” she said sweetly. “Mom made steamed buns for you.”

I stared at her, my body torn and bloodied and laughed—a cold, broken laugh.

How could she pretend like this?

I shouted, my voice cracking with fury and disbelief, “Why?! Why are you doing this to me?!”

Mom’s smile vanished in an instant, her face hardening into something cold and lifeless.

Dad’s expression twisted in disgust. Without a word, he raised his foot and kicked me hard in the chest.

“Ungrateful brat.”

I gasped for air, pain shooting through my ribs.

Mom’s eyes darkened. The corners of her lips curled into a slow, eerie smirk.

“Well, since Stella doesn’t want the steamed buns…” Her voice was thick with menace.

“Let’s let a few more wolfhounds in to play with her.”

“These dogs have been specially trained,” she added with a chilling calm. “They know how to ‘entertain’ disobedient dead girls.”

They opened the door again.

More wolfhounds came in—wild, vicious, starved.

They tore into me. I screamed as they ripped the flesh from my arms. Blood soaked the floor.

My limbs were shredded. My body couldn’t take it anymore.

By the end of the day, I was dead.

Torn apart by the very people I’d tried to save.

Even in death, I never understood—why?

Why did they all want me dead after I won that money?

Now, reborn, the terror from my past life surged up from my chest. My fingers clutched the lottery ticket, damp with sweat. I took a long, shaky breath.

This time, I’m going to find out the truth.

This time, I didn’t say a word to my brother about winning the lottery.

I figured that if I kept quiet—if he never knew I had the five million—everything would be fine.

But to my surprise, he smiled at me the next morning and asked, “Stella, I saw you went out to buy a ticket yesterday. Did you win?”

My heart skipped a beat.

Forcing a smile, I replied, “No, of course not. Winning the lottery’s not that easy.”

He tilted his head, still grinning. “You’re so careless with numbers. Give me the ticket, I’ll check it for you. Maybe you read it wrong.”

“There’s no need,” I said quickly. “I already checked every number, one by one. I really didn’t win. Don’t you trust me, brother?”