?Chapter 1
Aaron Treadman hadnever been good with numbers. Not as a kid, not in school, and definitely not now, as an adult.
If it weren’t for his fingers and toes, he would have had difficulty counting his fingers and toes.
But there was one number he did understand: 78,000.
$78,000... the current going rate for one Bitcoin. And that was what he was going to get. Hewasgoing to get that Bitcoin—they all were.
Who gave a fuck about the other numbers, anyway?
The game seemed simple enough: ten different boxes, ten different numbers inside. Open five, find your assigned number in one of these, and you can move to the next room. If all ten contestants find their numbers in the first five boxes they open, closing them before the next player enters the room, they all win one Bitcoin each.
Simple.
Fifty-fifty—had to be. He understood those numbers, too, and knew that these weren’t bad odds.
Aaron was contestant eight, which meant that the first seven had already found their numbers. But it was an all-or-nothing game—the voice over the loudspeaker had told them so.
If even one contestant failed to find their number in the first five boxes they chose, they all lost.
Left with nothing.
Aaron wasn’t planning on losing—this was his chance to finally get ahead.
It didn’t matter that the numbers themselves were all fucked up and random: two, three, seventeen, nineteen.
And thirteen.
That was the number that he’d stuck to his chest, as per the instructions.
The fucking instructions, spoken by some random voice over a wireless speaker.
Aaron had already opened four boxes, none of which contained his lucky number thirteen. He had one more to go.
He moved in front of the box marked seven.
Stared at it, squinted, tried to see through the wooden top to the number inside, the one that really mattered.
He shook his head.
No. Not this one.
Aaron slid to his left—Box Eleven.
Yes. This is it.
He took a deep breath, held it. Reached for the lid, pulled his hand back.
Licked his lips.
It was warm in the small, ten by ten-foot room. Sweat formed on his brow, and he swiped at it with the palm of his hand.
Last chance.
Fuck it.
Aaron opened the box.
