Found 100 Million In My Rented Apartment 소설 & 이야기

I whined and fell back on the bed. "Look, I found something. Room available for rent. No preference. Pets allowed. Advance payment is not required. Rent $500 dollars." She started to read the advertisement and I sat up straight on the bed to look at the laptop screen. "It's very close to your uni and look at the pictures, babe. It's a 2BHK apartment and it's so spacious." We began to slide the images and I had to agree with her. It was super cool and so much better than living in a dorm room but the rent was $500 dollars.

While she distracted herself with the clinking metal, I grabbed my phone and signed into my P****l account after downloading the app. It was measly. Embarrassing, even. Over the course of four long years under Raymond’s roof, I had only managed to squirrel away two thousand four hundred dollars. It would barely last us two months if we had to pay market rent and buy groceries. The only silver lining was that Ilya’s apartment was an option. I told myself that once I settled and started earning, I would pay him back every cent. But I had to know the truth first. Was Ilya truly the safer option?

I quickly changed back into my jeans and hoodie in my cubicle, gathered my things and left the club. It was cold outside, so I quickly called a cab and got in, giving him my house address. As the cab began to move, I counted all the money I had made tonight, from my wage at the coffee shop to the tips I had gotten tonight. If I added the bundle of cash I took from Nikolai's private room, combined with my savings at home, I discovered that we finally had enough to settle our rent, get a decent amount of groceries and even make a down payment on a new apartment. I was ecstatic, but that mood quickly faded as I thought back to the events of earlier.

“Ten thousand dollars. Right now. Cash. No one has to know. It’s yours.” Ten thousand dollars. The number slammed into me like a physical blow. I had been drowning in mounting credit card debt ever since my mother’s extended hospital stay and treatments last year. Rent on my tiny apartment was overdue again, my car was making that ominous rattling noise every morning and my savings account was practically nonexistent. Ten thousand dollars would erase months of stress, give me breathing room, maybe even let me sleep through the night without worrying about bills. I stood there, torn between duty, cold fear of consequences and the undeniable, throbbing ache between my thighs.

After we toured the apartment one more time, I concluded that I wanted it. “I am glad you love the house, you can start by sending the deposit” she calmly said. I admired the city view from the window, several lights brimming to life, making way for the darknesss of the night. “There is a little problem” I bit my bottom lip. “What’s wrong dear?” She asked. “I don’t have 4 million up front,” I explained, staring at my account, that was all I had left. If I spent all that on the apartment, I would be left with no money to take care of myself.

Grace grabbed my collar and yanked me up from the floor. “Get up. Take us on a grand tour of your ‘apartment.’” She shoved me down the hallway, her sharp nails digging deep into the flesh of my neck. “You can’t even rent an apartment in this building. You have to buy them outright, and they cost five million dollars per unit. How could a broke college student like you ever afford this?” “That’s none of your damn business! When my brother finds out, he’s never going to–”

Next I open the notes app and re-enter the sums, rent deposit, first month, utilities, groceries. I look at rental listings. A studio pops up almost immediately. Tiny with one window. Seventeenth floor of a building twenty minutes from the office. The rent is on the high side, but if I eat instant noodles for two months and don’t buy a single thing I don’t need, I can make the move by the end of next quarter. Maybe sooner if I do some extra time at the office. I might have to speak with HR. My thumb is hovering over the contact agent's button.

So, he rushed over to demand an explanation from me. I lived in a run-down apartment in a very old residential building. Half of the building had been declared unsafe and demolished, so there weren't many people living here anymore. I had only managed to find this place after asking around for ages. Although the ceiling was leaky during rainy days, it was good enough for me because the monthly rent was just less than a hundred dollars. At that moment, I was eating a stale bun that the bakery owner downstairs, Gordon Combe, left for me, thinking that I should look for a second job to help with my daily expenses.

The last crucial piece of evidence I had been searching for had been served to me on a silver platter. I went over the contract closely and started screen recording. As soon as I scrolled to the page about the rent and saw that the monthly rent was 10,000 dollars, I took a screenshot, circled it in red, and sent it to the group chat. 'The monthly rent for the entire apartment is 10,000 bucks,' I stated. 'Cecelia, you're staying in the master bedroom while charging me 7,000 every month for my room. You sure are making a profit, huh?'

I checked my b‌ank b⁠alanc‌e on my phone. ​$10,000,000.00 Th⁠e number stared back at‍ me‍. Ten million dollars. The p⁠rice of a b‌roken he‌art‌. I hadn't e⁠ven made⁠ a dent in it. I stay‌ed in the best hotels‌. I ate​ at Michelin-star rest⁠aurants. I boug‍ht art I didn't und‍erstand j⁠ust to have s⁠omething to p‍ut on the walls of my empty a⁠partment.