$3 Million Richer, But He Dumped Me

Saturday morning at Pinewood Trailer Park started like any other. I was flipping pancakes in our narrow kitchen while Colton tinkered with his old Ford in the driveway.

The kids were fighting over the bathroom again—Skylar hogging it for her "important beauty routine" while eight-year-old Aspen bounced around the hallway in his Spider-Man underwear.

"Mom, she's been in there forever!" Aspen whined, his sandy hair sticking up in every direction.

"Skylar, let your brother brush his teeth!" I called out, not really expecting her to listen. Fifteen-year-old girls have their own priorities.

This was our life—cramped but happy, broke but together. I watched Colton through the window, grease-stained and focused, and felt that familiar warmth in my chest.

Sure, our double-wide wasn't much to look at, and yeah, money was always tight, but we pooled both our paychecks into one account and somehow made it work. My Walmart wages plus his mechanic income—it wasn't much, but it was ours. We had each other, and that had to count for something, right?

That's when Colton burst through the front door like he'd just seen a ghost.

"Brandi! We won! We fucking won three million dollars!"

I dropped my spatula. "What?"

He shoved a crumpled lottery ticket in my face, his hands shaking. The numbers blurred together, but his excitement was contagious. Three million. I tried to process it, but my brain just kept repeating the same thought: We're saved.

"Oh my God, Colton. Oh my God." I grabbed his shoulders. "Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?"

"I checked it like ten times! Look!" He pulled up the lottery website on his phone, pointing at the winning numbers. 1-7-14-23-31-42. Powerball: 15.

Skylar emerged from the bathroom, hair perfectly curled, makeup flawless. "What's all the screaming about?"

"Your dad won the lottery, baby!" I pulled her into a hug, my mind racing. No more secondhand clothes. No more skipping field trips because we can't afford them. No more watching her face fall when her friends talk about things we can't do.

"Seriously?" For once, my daughter looked genuinely excited instead of just tolerating our existence.

Aspen ran over, still in his underwear. "Does this mean we can get a swimming pool?"

Colton scooped him up, spinning him around. "We can get whatever we want, buddy. Whatever we want."

This was it. Our American dream moment. I could already picture it—a real house with a yard, college funds for the kids, maybe even quitting Walmart. No more counting pennies, no more saying "we can't afford it."

"We should celebrate," I said. "Let's throw a barbecue tonight! Invite everyone from the park."

Colton's face lit up even more. "Hell yes. Let's show everyone that the Briggs family is moving up in the world."

That afternoon, I drove around inviting people. I stopped by the nail salon in town to invite Raven—I'd gotten my nails done there a few times, and she seemed friendly enough.

"Oh hi, Brandi!" Raven smiled when she saw me. "Actually, Colton already invited me."

I was taken aback. "Colton invited you?"

"Yeah, he said you guys won the lottery! So exciting!"

Strange. When did Colton and Raven become so friendly? Usually he only came with me when I was getting my nails done.

"That's... great. See you tonight."

By evening, our little patch of the trailer park had transformed into party central. I'd rushed to Dollar Tree for decorations—red plastic cups, paper plates, those shiny streamers that always made everything feel special.

Our neighbors started arriving around six: Dolly and Gary from next door, the Johnsons with their twin boys, even old Mrs. Martinez who usually kept to herself.

"So what's this big announcement?" Dolly asked, helping me arrange the cheap party supplies. She was my closest friend here, one of the few people who knew exactly how tight money had been for us.

"You'll see," I said, grinning like an idiot. Tonight, everything changes.

About twenty people gathered around our little setup—folks who'd become family over the years, who'd watched our kids grow up, who'd shared casseroles when times were really tough.

Seeing them all here, laughing and drinking beer, made my heart swell. We could help them now. Maybe help Gary find work, or cover Mrs. Martinez's medication costs.

Colton grabbed a beer and climbed onto our picnic table. "Everybody! Listen up!"

The crowd quieted, faces turned toward him expectantly.

"Yesterday I bought a lottery ticket, and today we found out—we won three million dollars!"

The cheers were deafening. People rushed forward to slap Colton on the back, to hug me, to congratulate us. I felt like I was floating, surrounded by love and excitement and possibility.

But then Colton raised his hand for quiet, and something in his expression made my stomach drop.

"Now, winning this money has made me realize something important," he said, his voice taking on a tone I'd never heard before. "I've been settling for a life that's too small."

The crowd went silent. Settling? What does that mean?

His eyes found mine across the group, and the coldness there made my blood freeze.

"Brandi, I want a divorce."