Billionaire by Chance

Anomaly

Adrien is an anomaly. He basically doesn't exist on the internet. His social media is there but... there's not much to it. That is really weird for a guy his age. He should have about ten years worth of embarrassing old content.

His f*******: hasn’t been used in years and he doesn’t have any photos there, his twitter account only has dumb retweets, his i********: has a measly hundred followers and that's it. He doesn't exist anywhere else. Still, he has some photos on i********: so I guess that’s something.

To my surprise, he’s kind of attractive. Somewhat. In a grungy, ordinary, dirty-looking way. He looks like Drake if Drake was poor, taller and not as blonde. I investigate the backgrounds of his photos and all I see is a dingy apartment, a lonely street somewhere, and a few photos he took on a trip to Las Vegas two years ago.

I'm researching the people who follow him when I get a notification that he posted something. A new photo. It’s him in the red Lamborghini Drake mentioned. He's sitting on top of it with his arms crossed and wearing new clothes that are clearly designer. Way too clearly.

Just as Drake mentioned, he's a nouveau riche and a pretty obvious one at that. He doesn’t even try to hide it.

My first thought is to use the Lamborghini. Cut the brakes and cause a crash. I don’t ever do anything like that. It's lazy and could cause other fatalities, but in the absence of other options, it may work. My uncle and dad would never approve of it, but I don’t think they’ll find out.

There isn’t much information about him on Google either. At least I know he's never been arrested or been through anything interesting enough to show up in a quick Google search, but it’s kind of sad.

If there is one good thing about this wild goose chase it is that he’s so forgettable and uninteresting that his death won't be a big deal at all. I don’t think his hundred followers will care if he dies. And apparently he doesn't have a partner or many friends to leave behind, or even much family. If any.

Adrien has the potential to be my quickest and easiest client ever, but that's just on the surface and in this first quick search, I still need to see him in person.

So, the next morning I go to the Delish building and sit on a somewhat hidden bench until I see the Lamborghini pulling up. He parks in one of the reserved spots near the building and gets out looking like a million bucks, with a giant smile on his pretty face and cheerful aura. He's wearing a suit that looks expensive but clearly wasn't tailored for him, yet another sign of his nouveau riche status. Little does he know that suits must be tailored to his body in order to look good.

Adrien walks through the parking lot as if he's dancing and when I identify the AirPods he's wearing, I realize it might be true. He greets every person who passes him and they all greet him back, albeit a little confused, as if they don't even know him.

As he enters the building, I lose sight of him and am left here, thinking about how strange he is at first sight.

He's like a dog. Like one of those big, stupid golden ones. That's good for me because it will probably make him easier to kill.

A couple of minutes later when I'm sure it's been enough for him to not come back, I get up and walk over to the Lambo, looking around making sure no one is looking at me.

There's not much to see, just a bunch of empty designer bags in the back, which is to be expected. I let out the air inside me as I accept that I found nothing and walk to my car again, willing to waste my time until this ïdiot dog gets out of here.

Adrien

Life is good.

Life is very, very good. It's too bad I didn't notice that until a week ago. I guess money really is everything. And the people who dare to say that money doesn't buy happiness? They're wrong. They're wrong and they're fücking poor.

I gladly come to the office this morning, I'm even five minutes early because I’m in a good mood. Today marks my seventh day coming to the office, officially a full week and now most people look at me when I walk past them. They know who I am.

It's quite nice to walk past such fancy people and have them look at me with curiosity or smiles instead of fear of being robbed by me.

I ride the elevator up to the sales department and when I arrive, I greet the people around me, who greet me enthusiastically, too. I think they like me. They even invited me to have drinks with them after work yesterday. Of course, I went and got extremely drunk with them, having a good time.

Today I woke up with a horrible hangover, but it's nothing a little white line can't fix.

I don't use every day, though. In fact, after that first day I hadn't touched my five pounder at all, except today it was necessary because the hangover was killing me and almost stopped me from coming to work.

"How come you're so damn happy this morning, Adrien?" asks Reane, the girl sitting at a desk across from mine, looking tired and for the first time since I've known her, makeupless, "You drank way more than I did."

"I just know how to handle a hangover, Rea. A puke before bed, hangover pills and lots of water." I lie, although the puking thing is true. I sit at my desk and turn on my computer, ready to waste time here just like yesterday, which is way more fun than I ever imagined.

And that's what I do most of the day. Nothing interesting. In fact, my boss has to put me to sort old documents because he can't find any important task to give me, and I'm happy to do it. The less I need to use my brain, the better.

It’s nearing lunchtime and I'm still sorting documents when my phone starts ringing with several texts. It's my old friend, Kirk.

"What's going on, man?" he asks.

"Why did you upload a picture with a lambo? Whose is it? Did you steal it?" he continues and that makes me laugh.

“I definitely didn’t steal it, bro.” I laugh.

"I went to your apartment last night and you weren't there, what's going on? I'm worried." He keeps going and makes me smile again. He’s such a good guy.

Kirk was my best friend in high school and once we graduated and he went off to college while I was left doing shït, we kind of fell outta touch. Kirk is now a college graduate and up until a week ago, I was a poor schmuck selling drugs to pay off his debts and survive.

Now, I'm a multi-millionaire working in a fancy äss office. I think Kirk is going to faint when I tell him. So, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom and while there, I call my friend and invite him to have lunch, giving him a preview of what I have to tell him just to leave him excited.

At lunchtime I go out in search of the restaurant Kirk mentioned as his favorite downtown and I can see him sitting at one of the tables outside. When he sees me approaching with the Lamborghini, he stands up with his hands on his head and walks over to the street to watch it.

"What the fück?!" He exclaims, coming over to inspect it from all sides, "Adrien, you have to tell me the truth. I'm not calling the cops. Who did you steal this from?"

"I told you! I'm rich now!" I insist with a laugh at his look of utter bewilderment, "Let me park it and I'll show you the evidence."

My friend nods and walks away, not taking his eyes off me for a second as I drive to the first free space I see.

Once my new baby and most important possession is safe, I approach the restaurant with my friend and have to force him to hug me because he still doesn't react from the shock.

I have to forcibly sit him down and start explaining to him from the beginning how overnight everything in my life changed. And when he still looks like he doesn't believe me, I get on my bank app and show him the huge amount of numbers that are still there.

Even after spending more than my life's worth these last few days, the amount of money doesn't even look different, it's like it doesn't matter. Like I could buy another hundred Lamborghinis with no problem.

"Dude, you need to secure this shït," he blurts out a couple of seconds later when he reacts, "You need to invest, you need to… god. You need someone to tell you what to do with that money so it doesn't disappear... my boss, for example. I'm working in an accounting firm. He's incredible at finances, he can help you."

"Hmm, I don't think so. I don't trust anyone," I mutter, but then I keep thinking, "Except you."

"Me?" he repeats, pulling back in surprise and then shaking his head nervously, "I don't think so, Adrien. I'm not... I mean, I'm good and all, but not good enough for someone on your level. Seriously, my boss is a man in his fifties, he knows what he's doing."

"I don't care, dude, seriously. I want it to be you," I insist, "Even if you make all my money go to hell, I don't care. I just want you."

"That’s fücking romantic," he snorts with a mocking look at me and I roll my eyes, but then he nods, "Okay. You'll be my client. My third client ever."

"That sounds promising, there are already two people you haven't bankrupted yet. That sounds good enough for me.” I say and lift my glass at him.