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Chapter 8 - Lydia Cross

As Martin approached the sleek glass doors of the real estate office, he caught Lydia Cross's attention.

Recognizing neither his face nor name, she shifted from a reserved posture to a warmer, more welcoming demeanor as she saw him.

"Mr. Martin, it's a pleasure," she greeted, her professional tone laced with curiosity. "Instead of sitting down inside, how about I show you around your new acquisition directly?"

Martin, caught off-guard by the unexpected personal attention but maintaining his composure, agreed. As they walked towards the villa, nestled among beautifully landscaped grounds by the lakeside, Lydia began detailing the property, each step revealing the sprawling luxury that awaited him.

"The villa has a total of twelve rooms," Lydia explained as they entered through the grand front doors. "That includes six bedrooms, each with its own en-suite bathroom. There are also two additional guest rooms and separate bathrooms for visitors."

As they moved through the expansive living area, Martin's eyes lingered on the high ceilings and the elegant decor that adorned the interior. "What other facilities does the villa offer?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Lydia gestured broadly as they stepped onto the patio. "Well, aside from the private dock out back, there's a fully equipped modern gym, a home theater, and an infinity pool that overlooks the lake. Perfect for entertaining, or just enjoying a quiet evening."

"And the annual maintenance fees?" Martin inquired, his tone casual but attentive.

"They're quite reasonable, given the amenities," Lydia replied, her eyes scanning his reaction. "You're looking at around $20,000 a year. This covers everything from landscaping to pool maintenance and general upkeep."

Throughout their tour, Lydia's curiosity about Martin's sudden wealth became more apparent. "So, Martin, your profile is quite discreet. May I ask how you came into such an impressive property?"

Her question was direct, yet she coated it with a light, conversational tone.

Martin, prepared for this, kept his answers vague but plausible. "I've had some fortunate investments recently," he said with a nonchalant shrug, diverting the conversation back to the villa's features.

"What's the style of the decoration?" he continued, gesturing to the modern art pieces and sleek furniture that decorated the rooms.

"The design is contemporary with a touch of minimalism," Lydia elaborated, clearly pleased with his interest. "Each piece was selected to enhance the architectural features without overwhelming the space."

As the tour concluded, Lydia's professional curiosity was piqued more than ever. "You must have advisors helping with these investments," she pressed lightly, handing him her business card. "If you ever need more insights or assistance, feel free to reach out."

Martin accepted the card, and with a smile, he offered one of his own, glad now of his foresight in obtaining a new phone number for occasions just like this. "Thank you, Lydia. I appreciate the tour and your help. I'll be sure to keep in touch."

As he walked away, Martin couldn't help but feel a surge of relief and satisfaction. Lydia's presence had been unexpected and could have complicated things, but he had managed it smoothly.

The villa was more impressive than he had imagined, and now, with Lydia Cross possibly believing him to be a wealthy investor, his new life seemed even more securely within his grasp.

The studio apartment.

Martin sank into his usual spot on the couch, the familiar cushions molding to his form as he pulled out his notepad. The day had been full of revelations and adjustments, and he knew he needed to consolidate his thoughts and plans before moving forward. First on the agenda was a strategy to solidify his new identity as an investor—a role he had inadvertently taken on during his interaction with Lydia Cross.

1. Open a stock trading account:

Martin wrote, underlining the statement for emphasis. It was a practical step, one that would lend credibility to his claim of being an investor. If Lydia—or anyone else in her circles—asked about his investment strategies, having a real, active trading account would provide tangible proof to support his story. He planned to engage in light trading; nothing too aggressive, just enough to show activity and learning in the process.

2. Be cautious with the rebate system:

He continued, his pen pressing harder into the paper. The ability to manipulate financial outcomes was intoxicating, but Martin recognized the dangers of becoming dependent on such power. He knew that if he wasn't careful, it could lead to a dangerous complacency. Authorities had ways of tracing wealth, especially when it appeared out of nowhere. Without any real influence or power, it was best to keep a low profile, using the system sparingly and wisely to avoid drawing unwanted attention.

With his strategic notes outlined, Martin set the notepad aside, ready to tackle the more personal part of his to-do list. He pulled out his old phone, its screen lighting up with names and numbers that connected him back to a life he was slowly trying to redefine. Scrolling through the contacts, he paused occasionally, memories associated with each name blurring into a mix of nostalgia and regret.

Compiling a short message, he aimed for modest honesty, explaining that he was now doing fine, finding his footing in a healthier lifestyle, and moving away from his past. The message was crafted carefully, intended to bridge gaps and mend fences, particularly with his family and friends.

For his parents, he added a special note, expressing a desire to reconnect and offering help if they needed it. He suggested a family dinner, hoping it might rekindle their relationship and give him a chance to explain the changes in his life more personally.

Responses trickled in soon after, his phone buzzing with texts from friends and family. Conversations were light and humorous, bouncing from one topic to another—old inside jokes, updates on mutual acquaintances, and gentle teasing about his sudden health kick.

Martin found himself smiling more than he had in months, the interactions reminding him of a connection he hadn't realized he'd missed so deeply.

As the clock neared 10:00 PM, the steady rhythm of notifications was interrupted by a call. Martin's heart skipped a beat when he saw it was from his mother. The reality of actually speaking, of potentially hearing disappointment or confusion in her voice, made him hesitate.

He let the call go unanswered, but the phone rang again almost immediately.

Staring at the vibrating device, Martin felt a swirl of emotions. Texts were easier; they allowed him to carefully craft each response, to hide behind the barrier of written words. Voice calls were rawer, more real—they demanded immediate reactions and left little room for hiding.

As the phone continued to ring, Martin was caught in a moment of indecision. Should he pick up and face whatever awaited on the other end of the line, or should he let it go to voicemail, delaying the inevitable?

The screen went dark, the ringing stopped, and the decision was made—for now. He sat in the silence of his apartment, the weight of the unattended call heavy in the air. The bridge to his past was right there, a simple action away, yet the fear of crossing it held him back.

Martin knew he couldn't avoid this forever. Whether tonight or tomorrow, he would have to answer the call—not just from his mother, but from all the parts of his life he'd left unanswered. With a deep breath, he reached for the phone, his resolve strengthening. It was time to reconnect, to face the past and embrace the future he was trying to build. But as he picked up the device to dial back, the screen remained dark, the moment of opportunity seemingly passed.

He set the phone down, his thoughts a tangled mess of what was and what could be. Tonight, he had dodged the call, but tomorrow was another day, and Martin knew that eventually, he'd have to answer not just to his family, but to himself.

With this in mind, Martin was no longer in the mood to wait for the midnight wish. So be it, he already knew that skipping a wish or two didn't hold any consequences whatsoever.

Moreover, he didn't have a particular wish in mind. Out of caution, Martin decided to use these wishes out of necessity only, not out of curiosity.

After making up his mind, Martin opened his laptop and went through the motions of opening a new stock trading account, connecting it to the local stock market of the country.

This wasn't a hasty decision. No—Martin had the idea of taking advantage of the rebate function of the system and testing it on the stock market.

If things went as expected, the second option reward should provide him with shares from whichever company he invested in.

Although Martin didn't dare to gamble for too much, it was fine to try it once or twice a week, or maybe a month.

In any case, he didn't need too much money, he only needed the active cash flow from his bank account into the market, as to not draw unnecessary attention.

It took a few minutes to go through the motions, submitting identification documents, and registering a business email for the stock market.

Martin deposited $20,000 into his stock account, but the transfer order was pending for midnight.

Tomorrow, his account should have been verified and ready for trading.