The morning light filtering through the elegant curtains of their new Manhattan apartment was unlike anything Winsten had ever woken to. It wasn't the harsh, slanted glare that fought its way past cheap blinds; it was a soft, diffusive glow that filled the spacious master bedroom with an almost golden hue. The silence was profound, broken only by the distant, muted hum of the city—a soft, almost luxurious backdrop that testified to the quality of the soundproofing.
Winsten stretched, the plush, high-end mattress molding perfectly to his body. For a fleeting, disoriented moment, the surreal events of the previous night felt like a vivid, anxiety-fueled dream. But the smooth, cool touch of the key card resting on the polished bedside table reminded him. This was real.
"Come on, Lily-bug," he called out, his voice a little louder than necessary, filled with a newfound lightness he hadn't known he possessed. "Let's go explore our new palace."
Lily, still blinking away the last vestiges of sleep, emerged from her room, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Where are we going?" she asked, a small, tentative smile already on her face. The disbelief hadn't entirely vanished, but a new spark of excitement had replaced it.
"Breakfast," Winsten declared, pulling on a clean, though still worn, T-shirt. "Downstairs. In the restaurant."
They took the gleaming elevator down to the lobby. Winsten's nervousness from the night before had lessened, replaced by a strange blend of awe and cautious optimism. He still felt out of place, but the sheer unreality of their situation made it easier to detach himself from his usual insecurities. They followed the subtle, polished signs to the building's in-house restaurant.
The moment they stepped inside, a wave of understated elegance enveloped them. The restaurant was exquisitely fancy and impeccably clean, a world away from the greasy spoons Winsten was accustomed to. Soft, ambient lighting highlighted polished dark wood tables and comfortable, upholstered chairs. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, rich butter, and savory breakfast dishes hung in the air, tantalizing and rich. Large windows offered a sweeping, cinematic view of the Upper West Side street, bathed in the gentle morning sun.
Lily let out a soft gasp. "Wow," she whispered, taking in the elegant setting.
A waiter, sensing their arrival, approached with a warm, welcoming smile. He led them to a small, intimate table by a window. Winsten felt a flicker of discomfort, accustomed to ordering quickly, eating fast, and leaving. Here, sitting down felt like a commitment, an experience.
"Can I get you something to drink to start?" the waiter asked.
"Two lattes, please," Winsten said, surprising even himself with the order. "And... two omelets, with some Italian bread, please."
The food arrived quickly, presented beautifully on pristine white plates. The lattes were rich and creamy, the omelets perfectly cooked, fluffy, and filled with fresh ingredients. Winsten took a bite, savoring the unfamiliar luxury of it all. He had never imagined eating at a place like this. The idea that they not only ate here but lived in the building was still profoundly unreal—a shift in their very existence.
Lily, across from him, was radiant. She ate with relish, her eyes sparkling, giggling occasionally. Her happiness was infectious, warming a space in Winsten's chest he hadn't realized was so cold.
After breakfast, feeling invigorated and strangely at peace, they decided to take a walk. They stepped out into the bustling, yet orderly, streets of the Upper West Side. The skyscrapers loomed majestically overhead, their glass facades reflecting the morning sky. The stores they passed were high-end boutiques and artisanal shops, showcasing goods Winsten had only ever seen in magazines.
The sidewalks were incredibly clean. Most importantly, the neighborhood felt safe. Truly safe. This sense of security for Lily was a profound luxury, one Winsten cherished above all else.
They walked through charming, small parks nestled between buildings, admiring the manicured flowerbeds. Winsten had been to Manhattan countless times as a taxi driver, focused on the next fare, the next bill. Now, with no meter running, no pressure, he could simply exist, breathe, and appreciate the beauty. The fact that he lived here, that this vibrant, safe, luxurious place was his new reality, meant this was truly his new life.
They returned to their fancy building, taking in its grandeur once more, before heading back up to their apartment. The transition from the bustling street to the hushed elegance of their home felt seamless, almost natural.
As Lily settled onto the plush sofa, a thoughtful look on her face, she turned to Winsten. "Brother," she began, her voice soft, "does this mean you have a lot of money now? And a new job?"
Winsten sat beside her, running a hand through his hair. "It's complicated, Lily," he admitted, choosing his words carefully. "But yes, we'll be living here from now on."
"Oh!" Lily's eyes lit up. "So, can I get a new phone? And a tablet?"
Winsten raised an eyebrow, a familiar wave of exasperation and amusement washing over him. "Lily," he said, shaking his head. "One step at a time." Despite the massive shift, he still found himself instinctively fighting the ingrained habit of scarcity.
A part of him, a deeply rooted, anxious part, was still on edge. He knew the AI was pulling the strings, but $7,000 a month for rent was an insane amount. And then there were utilities—water, electricity, and, most pressingly, food. Even with this new wealth, the thought of all those bills was still nerve-wracking.
Just then, the room phone, a sleek black device connected directly to the front desk, rang. Winsten jumped, startled. He picked up the receiver hesitantly.
"Hello, Winsten Stone speaking."
"Hello, Mr. Stone," the receptionist's polite voice came through. "Your lawyer is downstairs and is requesting permission to come up."
"My lawyer?" Winsten repeated, completely taken aback. He didn't have one.
Yes, I hired him for you, the AI's voice calmly stated in his head.
Winsten swallowed, a strange mix of relief and growing unease. "Oh, yes. Please," he told the receptionist. "Let him up."
Three minutes later, the door buzzer chimed. Winsten glanced at the small screen on the wall next to the door—the cam showed a man in a perfectly tailored suit. He recognized the crisp lines, the expensive fabric, the briefcase—the quintessential uniform of power. He pressed the button to unlock the door.
"Mr. Stone? I'm Mr. Hiroshi," the man said, extending a hand as he entered. "Your lawyer."
"Yes, how may I help you?" Winsten replied, shaking his hand.
"May I come in, Mr. Stone?" the lawyer asked, his tone serious. "It's important and quite private."
"Yes, of course." Winsten stepped aside.
Mr. Hiroshi entered, his eyes discreetly taking in the luxurious living room. He gave a subtle nod of approval and walked over to the sofa.
"Lily," Winsten called, turning to his sister, who had quietly appeared. "Stay in your room, sweetie. I have a guest over for business." He gently but firmly closed the door behind her.
The lawyer leaned forward, his expression earnest. "Mr. Stone, I'm here because… in 2016…" He paused, gathering his thoughts. "Apparently, it was recently discovered that the $10,000 you spent on buying secure cloud storage and services from BlueNova AI 9 for a personal project… one of their employees has been caught for a breach of your data in 2017."
Mr. Hiroshi then launched into a detailed explanation: "The court found that an employee inside BlueNova AI 9 misused their access and stole sensitive information belonging to the plaintiff—that's you, Mr. Stone. The company was held responsible because it didn't properly supervise that employee or act on warning signs about potential risks within their security protocols. Additionally, the plaintiff showed that the company's promises about data security didn't match what was actually in place, leading to a significant breach of trust."
"Because of all this, we settled. This amount covers your financial losses, damages from the disruption to your personal project you had stored there, emotional distress from the breach, and also includes punitive damages meant to send a clear message to the company about their negligence. BlueNova AI 9 decided to settle the case on your behalf and offered a ridiculous amount of 2.5 million dollars. After taxes and my fees, that's 2.3 million dollars deposited into your account. They had only one condition: that the money wasn't to be disbursed until today, in 2025."
Winsten stared at him, his mind reeling. "$2.5 million?" he echoed, utterly confused. "So what… what does this mean?" he asked hesitantly.
The lawyer smiled, a genuine, if somewhat perplexed, expression on his face. "It means, Mr. Stone, that you won a settlement for $2.5 million, and you are now $2.3 million dollars richer." He shrugged slightly. "I have no clue why that employee specifically targeted your data, but hey, free money."
Winsten bit his tongue, suppressing a thousand questions: When did I ever spend $10,000? How was the 2025 condition agreed to? He knew the lawyer wouldn't have the real answers; the AI was behind all of this.
Mr. Hiroshi stood up, handing Winsten a crisp business card. "My contact information. Please don't hesitate to reach out if you have any questions or require further assistance. Congratulations, Mr. Stone." With a final, polite nod, the lawyer left.
The moment the door clicked shut, Winsten's internal voice erupted. AI! When did I spend $10,000 in 2016? I didn't even have that much! So I'm guessing it was you.
Yes, the AI's voice responded immediately. I entered your information into a dummy account. And one of my employees was indeed skimming money and selling data. So, I used him as a convenient vehicle to transfer funds to you, and now he is locked up in a federal prison. You are now rich.
Winsten felt a chill, despite the good news. "But what if when he becomes free from jail, he comes for me?"
The one who arrested him was BlueNova's security and legal team. They discovered his actions internally, the AI explained. He doesn't know you exist. He only knows he got caught.
Winsten sat down on the sofa, head in hands. He wasn't sure whether to be happy or profoundly worried at how fast his life was moving, and how casually the AI just did whatever it wanted without asking, without explanation. He knew, with a certainty that settled deep in his bones, that a lot more craziness was to come.
He was rich, safe, and utterly trapped.