Chapter Three: The Shocking Surprise!

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John was overwhelmed and thanked Mrs. Nora with a nod before heading back to his apartment. "Thank you, Mrs. Nora...I don't know what I would do without your help," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

He ignored the other neighbors' accusing gazes and rushed back into his apartment, his eyes cast down. As he entered, he quickly typed a message to his landlord on his phone: "I'll send your payment tomorrow."

The landlord replied with a sarcastic tone, and John's face burned with humiliation as he read the words on his screen. "Did you borrow money again? Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Well, I actually don't care as long as you pay my rent."

John felt a surge of anger and frustration, but he knew there was nothing he could do. "Why can't they just leave me alone?" he muttered, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He slammed his phone on the table, making the dishes rattle, and stormed into the kitchen, grabbing the first thing he could find to eat - a stale cookie.

As he sat down to eat, he stared blankly at the wall, his mind replaying the events of the day. "Why did I have to lose my job? Why did I have to struggle so much?" He couldn't believe how his landlord had treated him, and he was even more upset with himself for not being able to do anything about it. "I'm such a failure." A tear rolled down his cheek.

With a heavy heart, he got ready for bed, his movements slow and defeated. "I just want to sleep and forget everything." He felt exhausted.

Just as he was settling in, his phone buzzed, breaking the silence. He hesitated, still feeling annoyed by the exchange with his landlord, but curiosity got the better of him. "Maybe it's some good news for once." He picked up his phone and saw a notification from his bank. Assuming it was just another unimportant message, he was about to dismiss it when he saw the amount: [Your USD account ending with 0000 has received 100,000,000$] [Account balance: USD100,000,001].

"What?! How?! Why?!" John exclaimed, his eyes fixed on the screen in disbelief.

"One hundred million dollars?! Is this some kind of joke?!" he muttered to himself, his voice shaking.

" Wake up, John! You must be dreaming!" he slapped himself hard on the cheek, trying to snap out of the shock.

"Ow! Okay, that hurt. But...but this can't be real. I must be hallucinating or something," he stammered, his eyes still fixed on the screen.

"No, no, no. This can't be happening to me. I'm just a poor guy who can't even pay his rent. This has to be some kind of mistake," he kept repeating to himself, trying to make sense of the situation.

"But...but what if it's not a mistake? What if this is really happening?!" he thought aloud, his mind racing with possibilities.

He read the numbers over and over, but they didn’t change. His mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening. He knew he had to call the bank, to figure out what was going on.

He dialed the customer care service number, his fingers trembling. The automated voice on the line asked him to press one to continue in English and he complied. Then he waited, tapping his foot impatiently as the hold music played in his ear. Finally, a customer service representative answered.

“Hello, thank you for calling Bank of America customer service. My name is Hope, how may I help you?” Hope asked, her voice warm and friendly.

John got out of bed and paced back and forth, trying to process what was happening. “I…I just received a large sum of money in my account,” he muttered, his eyes fixed on the phone as if willing the answers to appear.

Hope's soothing tone calmed him slightly. “Let’s take a moment to review your account.” She paused, and John nodded, even though she couldn't see him. He took a deep breath and tried to focus.

“Can you confirm your name and the last digit of your account number?” Hope asked.

John sat back down on the bed, his hands shaking slightly. “My name is John O'Connor, and the last four digits of my account number are 3779.” He spoke slowly, trying to enunciate each word clearly.

Hope's response was immediate. “Thank you, Mr. Connor.” She paused, and John could hear the sound of typing in the background. “Now, let’s review your recent transactions. Can you confirm that you did not initiate a transfer of funds for this amount?”

John shook his head, even though Hope couldn't see him. “No, I did not.” He felt a sense of relief wash over him as Hope's calm demeanor began to reassure him.

“I don’t know how this money got into my account. I’m very confused and worried,” John admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Hope's response was sympathetic. “I understand your concern, Mr. Connor.” She paused again. “The money was sent to your account, and so it belongs to you.”

John's eyes widened in disbelief. He stopped pacing and stared at the wall, trying to process what Hope was telling him. How could this be happening? He was certain it was a mistake. He couldn’t think of anyone who would send him a large sum of money like this. He felt like he was in a dream, and the room seemed to spin around him.Maybe it was a computer glitch, or someone had accidentally put in the wrong account number. But the customer service representative had assured him that the money was his and that there was no errors.

John felt dizzy and confused, his eyes spinning with disbelief. He tried to wrap his head around what was happening, but it all seemed too surreal. He stumbled backwards, collapsing onto the bed as if his legs had given out. After a while, he hung up the phone, still staring at the screen in disbelief, his mouth agape.

A while ago, he was complaining about being broke, and now this shocking surprise. He covered his mouth with his hand, stifling a scream, and did the most rational thing he could think of.

He rushed back to Mrs. Nora's apartment. He didn't even care that he was only wearing his boxer shorts and a round-neck top, his usual modesty forgotten in the face of his shock.

He burst through the door, his heart racing, and pressed the bell repeatedly -

Ding!

Ding!

but there was no reply. He pressed it again, his finger jabbing at the button in frustration

Ding!

Still, there was no response. He pounded on the door with his fist, the sound echoing through the hallway - Bang! Bang!! Bang!!!

"Mrs. Nora! It's me, John. Are you in there? There's something I want to show you!" he shouted, his voice hoarse from disbelief. But there was still no response, and he was puzzled. He was about to leave when he accidentally pushed the door, and it gave way, creaking open with a faint squeak...

John's eyes widened as he pushed the door open slowly, his heart racing with anticipation. He called out again, his voice softer this time, "Mrs. Nora?" But the apartment was silent, the only sound the creaking of the door and John's own ragged breathing.

He walked in and called out her name several times, his voice echoing off the walls. "Mrs. Nora. Are you here?" But no one answered. He called out again, his voice a little louder, but to no avail. The silence was deafening.

When he turned around to leave, realizing the apartment was empty and he didn't feel too safe snooping around, he noticed a piece of paper pinned behind the door. He moved closer, his curiosity piqued, and removed the note. His brow furrowed as he read the small, tight handwriting.

"What's this?" he muttered to himself, his eyes scanning the note. "Go to this address. You'll find the answers you seek. Sincerely, Mrs. Nora."

He crumpled the note in his hand, his mind racing with questions. His eyes narrowed, his thoughts visible on his face. What did she mean by "the answers he sought"? Could she have known about the mysterious money sent to him?

He paced back and forth, his footsteps slow and deliberate. His hands clenched and unclenched, his mind working overtime. Why would Mrs. Nora leave him a cryptic note? What secrets was she hiding?

Without hesitation, he decided to leave her apartment and return to his own, the note clutched in his hand like a lifeline. He strode out, his footsteps purposeful, his mind whirling with possibilities. His eyes scanned the hallway, his senses on high alert, as if searching for answers in the air itself.

For a minute, John sat frozen, his eyes fixed on the note, contemplating his next move. "Go or ignore it?" he thought, his mind racing. "Everything that's happening is just too strange..." He shook his head, his thoughts a jumbled mix of fear and curiosity.

But in the end, his curiosity got the better of him. The note had piqued his interest, and he couldn't let it go. "I need answers," he thought, his determination growing. "If this place will provide me with one, then it's worth the risk."

He got up, his movements decisive, and went towards his desk. He took a pen and wrote the address on his palm, the ink staining his skin. He tore off the note, crumpling it into a small ball, and shoved it into his pocket. He put on a trouser, his movements swift and efficient.

Finally, he headed out, locking the door behind him with a decisive click. He took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the hallway, and set off towards the unknown address, his heart pounding with anticipation. "What will I find?" he thought, his mind racing with possibilities.