Chapter 3. Godmother

Carlos sat unmoving in his room, the scene of betrayal still playing out in his head. The sounds of Frank’s moans made blue veins pop up on his forehead. It was as if he was forcing himself not to believe what he had seen.

He never believed Zama to be that kind of person; in fact, he thought too highly of her. Maybe that made him blind.

It hurt so much that she had cheated on him, but it also hurt that all the money he had spent on her was a waste. He had deprived himself of food and comfort just to take care of her, and this was how she repaid him. How bitter.

Carlos’ room was dark. He had no money to pay the landlord, so his power supply had been cut off.

He lived on the third floor of his apartment, and his window was the only one blacked out among the others at night. The little money he had left was just enough to pay for a place to sleep.

Since he had received no tips that night and had been banished from his only means of survival, he was in utter disarray. He knew he was done for and that the next step for him was to sleep in the streets and beg.

Then again, Zama was right. He had no money to take care of himself, let alone his girlfriend. Though he had made sure Zama never lacked anything, she was still right.

He sighed at his fate. The translucent light from the full moon shone through his window, casting his figure as a silhouette. He removed his shirt, his wounds aching.

Frank had told his boys to beat him up, and they had done so, leaving him almost half-dead. A pitiable sight.

A bowl of cold water sat on the cold, tiled floor. Carlos sat beside it, holding a small towel. He slowly dipped it into the bowl and began to clean his wounds. It was indeed a painful sight.

Carlos winced every time the cold, wet towel touched his wounds. His face was swollen, and he had a purple eye. His whole body ached, but his heart ached more.

Suddenly, tears rolled down his eyes, burning against his cold, pale cheeks. He flew into a rage and threw the towel away. He tossed the bowl aside, making a huge mess in the room.

Carlos had nothing in his apartment—just his bedroom, an empty kitchen, and an empty living room—so the sound of his rage echoed through the empty space.

Suddenly, his phone vibrated, jolting him back to reality. He picked it up to see it was an unknown number.

“Sent on 5th of January 2023,” the message read.

Carlos knew what this unknown number was referring to: the ten billion dollars that had been sent to him hours ago.

His mind wasn’t on this; he thought it was some rich billionaire who had made a mistake and transferred money to the wrong account. So he planned not to look at or even think about using such money because it was wrong.

But for the same person to send a message of confirmation almost hours later made it seem like it wasn’t a mistake.

Carlos was a good young man. He knew right from wrong. He picked up his phone and simply texted the number back:

“Hello, sorry, I think you got the wrong number. Just give me your account number, and I’ll transfer everything back.”

Carlos felt sorry, though. He knew that if it were someone else, they would have taken advantage of the situation, blocked the number, transferred the money to another account, and covered their tracks to avoid being caught. But not a single temptation crossed Carlos’ mind. He was too depressed to act on such a situation.

He still wished the money was indeed his, but who on earth would send him ten billion dollars? Ten billion dollars was a very, very, very huge amount. The number of zeros Carlos saw scared the life out of him. He had no relatives, let alone rich ones.

He and his mother had been alone, but his mother died when Carlos was just a child. So Carlos spent the rest of his life alone, working from one place to another, earning money to send himself to school.

It was by luck that he won a little amount once that funded his entire high school and college education, but he couldn’t even afford a high-earning or medical course, so he studied art instead.

After finding no job, he went to work at the bar, where he could earn some cash, but now, he was fired for no good reason.

The girlfriend he had sacrificed everything for had a hand in this too. Carlos yelled in frustration again. It was unbearable.

Suddenly, he heard a knock on the door. The person kept knocking like a crazed dog. Carlos calmed himself before rushing to answer.

As he opened the door, he was greeted by a worried face. This worried face belonged to no other than Ashley, an African immigrant and Carlos’ neighbor.

She lived in the room next to Carlos and had helped him a lot through his hard times.

She was a few years older than him and always treated him as her godson. Though she looked smaller when she stood next to Carlos, they had a very beautiful godmother and godson relationship.

She had helped so much with Carlos’ misfortune ever since he moved in. Though she wasn’t rich, she tried her best.

She also knew Zama, and the two usually talked whenever she came over to see Carlos. So, hearing Carlos lash out like this, she dashed out of her room and into his.

Her doe-like eyes sparked with worry, and her long black hair was messy, almost as if Carlos’ rage had woken her from her slumber. She was in her nightwear and looked into the dark room, dazed.

“Are you alright? What’s wrong with your face?” she asked.

Carlos shook his head, held a hand over his bruised face, and forced out a smile. “Ah, it’s nothing, Ashley. There’s no need to worry.”

Carlos tried to close the door on her, but she struck it back, her hands folded, staring into Carlos’ room. Although it was dark, Ashley could still make out the mess Carlos had made from lashing out.

She immediately furrowed her brows and walked into his apartment.

“What exactly happened here? Tell me.”

Carlos sighed. He knew there was no way to hide anything from Ashley. She always read him inside out and always looked out for him. It was difficult to lie to her.

Ashley kept looking at him, waiting for an answer, those black eyes staring intensely with a hint of worry.

Carlos finally gave in. He shut the door, walked toward the table in the empty living room, reached for a lamp, lit it, and then sat beside Ashley, telling her everything that had happened, but left out the part about the ten billion dollars because he thought it wasn’t necessary.

After hearing this, Ashley fumed. She screamed in rage, “AND YOU DIDN’T KILL THAT WRETCHED BRAT!!!!”

Ashley was also aware of the situation with the couple. She knew that Zama enjoyed so much for someone dating an extremely poor person. It irritated her so much knowing something like this had transpired.

Carlos had loved Zama so much, and Ashley had supported and teased him just like a godmother would. Although she thought he was deeply in love for putting a fool like Zama before himself, she knew their relationship was rather sweet until she heard such heartbreaking news.

“THAT UNGRATEFUL BITCH!!!!!”

Carlos gave a faint smile. “The past is the past now. I will try to move on.”

Ashley shook her head. “Who does she think she is? Shaming you because of our situation? She doesn’t know what she just lost.”

Carlos shook his head. “Forget about it. I will go tomorrow with my documents to look for another job. Perhaps, if luck is on my side, I will find one.”

Ashley immediately hugged him. “I will go with you. I am free tomorrow anyway. It is said that I have a sweet mouth; maybe that can help and charm them into giving you a job.”

Carlos laughed. Although he was also grateful for having Ashley, he agreed almost immediately. At least, he would have some company to help take his mind off recent events.

Ashley was always a comedian and was sure to make him laugh throughout, so how could he decline such an offer?

“Sure,” he replied.

He let Ashley take care of his wounds, and after a series of back-to-back chatter and laughter, the heavy air around Carlos’ heart eased. He sent his godmother back to bed and went to sleep himself.

In the middle of the night, Carlos woke up to his phone ringing continuously.

He picked it up half-asleep and brought it to his ear. He didn’t know why someone would call him at that hour, but he listened intently to what the caller had to say.

After a second, then two, then a whole minute, there was not a single word from the other end.

This immediately woke Carlos up as he cut the call and took a look at the number.

It was the same number that had sent the money to him earlier that night.