The Drop

"You're joking, right? A billion dollars? Just like that?"

Alex Carter stood frozen, phone clutched in their trembling hand, staring at the text that seemed too surreal to believe. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be. But there it was—a direct deposit with more zeroes than they'd ever seen in their life. The dull throb of disbelief echoed through their mind, layering over the noise of the city street around them.

Just this morning, Alex had been fired. Again. A soul-crushing job in a run-down office with a tyrant of a boss who couldn't even pronounce Alex's name correctly. But none of that mattered now. This message—this deposit—this inheritance, it was enough to make their head spin.

Their phone buzzed again, another notification:

"Welcome to your legacy."

Earlier that day, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The weight of yet another rejection—both from work and life—pressed heavily on Alex's shoulders. Everything in their life had been a constant struggle, and today was no different. After a morning of missed deadlines, snide comments from coworkers, and an inevitable termination, Alex had resigned to the idea that life just wasn't meant to go their way.

But this—this was something no one could have predicted. They weren't even sure if it was real.

As they leaned against a graffitied brick wall, trying to process the information, the sudden sound of footsteps behind them jolted Alex back to reality.

"Mr. Carter, I presume," a gravelly voice said, filled with the kind of confidence that only someone who knew far more than they let on could muster.

Alex spun around, locking eyes with a tall, well-dressed man in his late fifties. He was sharp, almost unsettling in his presence. His tailored coat fit too perfectly for someone who might've been just a passing stranger.

"Who are you?" Alex asked, cautiously stepping back. "And how do you know who I am?"

The man smiled faintly, adjusting his black leather gloves with meticulous precision. "You've already received your inheritance, haven't you? I'm here to explain what happens next."

Inside a dingy café down the block, Alex sat across from the mysterious man, still reeling from the strange turn of events. The coffee was bitter, the air heavy with the scent of overused frying oil. It was a far cry from the world Alex now suddenly seemed to be a part of.

"Jim Donovan," the man said, stirring his drink absently. "I worked with your benefactor. A man who, let's just say, didn't leave things to chance."

Alex frowned. "Benefactor? I don't even know anyone wealthy enough to leave me that kind of money."

Jim leaned forward, his expression hardening. "It doesn't matter if you know them. They knew you. And you've just inherited not only their wealth but their enemies. Their problems."

Alex's pulse quickened. "Enemies? What are you talking about?"

Jim's voice lowered, as if the walls had ears. "Let's just say, the world you're about to enter isn't one where people play fair. That money—those billions—it comes with strings attached. Big ones."

"I didn't ask for any of this," Alex protested, feeling the weight of Jim's words settle in. "Why me?"

"That's the question, isn't it?" Jim said with a cold chuckle. "But I wouldn't dwell on it too long. You don't have time to waste. People are already watching you, Alex. Powerful people. And not all of them will be happy that you've just stepped into the spotlight."

As night fell, Alex found themselves walking the streets alone, the noise of the day having subsided into a quieter, more dangerous lull. The city's once-vibrant energy had turned into a dark, foreboding hum as they made their way toward their apartment. Jim had left them with more questions than answers. And with every step Alex took, the sense that they were being watched grew stronger.

In the distance, a shadow moved—quick, precise, almost purposeful.

Alex stopped in their tracks. "Is someone there?"

The response was silence. Then, a faint shuffling sound behind them. Heart racing, Alex turned, but the alleyway was empty.

For a moment, they considered running, but where? To what?

A soft, electronic ping from their phone broke the silence. Another message.

"You're not safe. Leave now."

Inside the apartment, Alex locked the door, chest heaving as they tried to catch their breath. What had they gotten themselves into? Who were these people? And what kind of "legacy" had they just inherited?

Their eyes drifted to the phone again, but before they could process anything else, a knock at the door startled them.

Three sharp knocks, deliberate.

Alex's heart skipped a beat. Was it Jim? Or was it the "powerful people" he'd warned about? Slowly, they approached the door, holding their breath as they peered through the peephole.

Nothing. The hallway was empty.

But something on the floor caught their eye—a sleek black envelope slid halfway beneath the door. With trembling hands, Alex bent down, cautiously picking it up.

The envelope was cold to the touch, its weight heavy for something so small. No name, no return address—just a wax seal emblazoned with a symbol they didn't recognize. Curiosity got the better of them, and they ripped it open.

Inside was a single card. No words. No explanation.

Just a symbol.

The same one from the wax seal—a coiled serpent wrapped around an hourglass.

The message was clear: Time was running out.

Alex stared at the cryptic symbol, heart pounding, their mind spinning in a thousand directions. Suddenly, the lights in their apartment flickered and went out, plunging them into complete darkness.

Before they could react, a voice from the shadows whispered:

"You don't know what you've inherited... but you will."