A homeless woman found a lottery ticket in a trash can, and when she turned it over, she screamed. The November wind cut right through her, despite her three layers of clothing. Natalya Sergeyevna pulled her knitted hat down low and approached the trash can near the luxury residential complex “Imperial.”

There was always something valuable to be found here. Rich people threw away what was now a luxury to her. Two years ago, she couldn’t have imagined herself rummaging through trash bins.

Back then, she was a police major, a high-profile investigator, with an apartment in the center of the capital and the respect of her colleagues. But one case changed everything. Natalya shuddered, pushing the memories away.

“Now’s not the time to think about that. I need to find something valuable I can sell to buy food for a few days.” She opened another bag and began sorting through the contents.

Bottles, food packaging. Some papers. Stop.

Natalya pulled a crumpled lottery ticket out of the bag. Normally, she wouldn’t have noticed it, but something made her take a closer look. It was an expensive ticket, one of the “Million Chance” series, where a single purchase cost five thousand.

Rich people bought tickets like that more for fun than with any real hope of winning. “Interesting,” Natalya muttered, smoothing out the ticket. “They didn’t even check it before throwing it away.”

In the pocket of her tattered jacket lay an old smartphone. The last vestige of her former life. She’d charged it yesterday at the mall before security guards kicked her out.

Natalya pulled out her phone and opened the lottery website. The last draw was three days ago, on November 15th. She carefully compared the numbers on her ticket with the winning ones, and her heart sank.

The first number matched, the second, the third. “It can’t be,” she whispered, feeling her hands tremble. All six numbers matched perfectly.

It was the grand prize. Natalya glanced at the winnings and almost dropped the phone. One hundred million.

For a few minutes, she just stood there, holding the ticket in her hands, not believing her eyes. A hundred million. That would solve all her problems.

She could have rented a place, bought decent clothes, and gotten a hot meal, but her investigative instinct, undimmed even by a year and a half of living on the streets, made her stop. Who in their right mind would throw away an unverified lottery ticket? Especially someone living in the Imperial, where apartments cost upwards of a hundred million. Natalya carefully examined the ticket.

On the back was the owner’s name, as was required for tickets of that denomination. Her eyes widened when she read the inscription. Owner: Vladimir Igorevich Kravtsov.

She’d heard that name before. Kravtsov was a well-known businessman, the owner of a chain of hardware stores. And three days ago, three days ago, he was all over the news.

Natalya frantically opened her browser and searched for the name. The very first article confirmed her worst fears. Businessman Vladimir Kravtsov had committed suicide in his own apartment.

The body was discovered by his wife. According to preliminary investigations, the cause of suicide was severe depression due to financial problems in his business. The date of death was November 15.

On the day of the lottery drawing, Natalia slowly lowered her phone. Her brain, unused to analytical work, began to struggle to start up.

A man buys a lottery ticket. That same day, he wins 100 million. And that same day, he dies, according to investigators, due to financial problems.

“This isn’t suicide,” she quietly said to herself. “This is murder.” The Million Chance lottery’s headquarters were located in a large, modern building in the capital’s business district.

Natalya stood for a long time at the entrance, gathering her courage. She saw her reflection in the glass doors: a haggard woman in an old jacket, with unwashed hair and sunken cheeks. The security guard at the entrance was already eyeing her suspiciously.

Natalya took a deep breath and walked resolutely inside. “Excuse me, miss,” the security guard immediately blocked her path, “do you have some business?” “Yes,” Natalya said, pulling a ticket from her pocket. “I’ve come to collect my winnings.”

The guard looked at her skeptically, then at the ticket. His expression changed. “Please sit down,” he said in a completely different tone, pointing to a sofa in the hall.

“I’ll call the manager now.” A few minutes later, a woman of about forty appeared, wearing a formal suit. Her face expressed professional politeness, but her gaze slid over Natalya with poorly concealed disdain.

“Good afternoon, my name is Irina Pavlovna, I’m the senior administrator.” “You say you have a winning ticket?” Natalya handed her the ticket. The woman took it, pulled out a special device, and scanned the code.

Her eyes widened. “Please sit down. This… this is a serious win.

“We’ll need to check your ticket and process the paperwork. That’ll take some time.” “I’ll wait,” Natalya said.

Irina Pavlovna disappeared behind a door marked “Staff.” Natalya remained sitting in the lobby, aware of the curious glances of staff and visitors. She was used to these glances; people looked at the homeless as if they were lepers.

About 20 minutes passed before Irina Pavlovna returned. She was accompanied by a man in an expensive suit, apparently someone from management. “Good afternoon,” he said.

“I’m Oleg Viktorovich, the lottery director. Could you come with me to my office? We need to discuss something.” Natalya stood up and followed him.

Their investigatory instincts told them something was wrong. Usually, winnings were paid out quickly and without management involvement. Waiting for them in the director’s spacious office was another man, a man in his 50s in a suit, who clearly wasn’t a lottery employee.

“Sit down,” Oleg Viktorovich pointed to a chair. “This is Major Petrov from the police. We have an unusual situation.”

Natalya tensed. The major looked at her carefully. “Where did you find this ticket?” he asked.

“In the trash can,” Natalya answered honestly. There was no point in lying. Her appearance spoke for itself.

“Near which building?” “The Imperial residential complex.” Petrov nodded, as if this confirmed his suspicions. “Do you know who this ticket was registered to?” “Vladimir Kravtsov.”

“I read about his… death.” “Then you understand the problem.” Petrov leaned forward.

“The ticket was registered to a deceased person. By law, the winnings should go to his heirs. If they’d known about the ticket, they wouldn’t have thrown it in the trash,” Natalya calmly countered.

“How do you know it was the heirs who threw it away?” the major asked. Natalya paused. “We had to proceed with caution here.”

“I don’t know, but the find was made in a trash bin on the street. Legally, I have a right to this winnings if I can prove the ticket was thrown away.” Petrov chuckled.

“Legally savvy.” “Have you worked in the legal field?” “I have,” Natalia replied briefly, without specifying where. “You see, it’s not just a matter of law,” the lottery director interjected.

“This is a high-profile situation. Kravtsov was a well-known figure. His family has already contacted us to ask whether he purchased the ticket.

“We can’t just pay you money when there are legal heirs.” “The legal heirs threw the ticket in the trash,” Natalya repeated. “It’s their choice.”

“I found it and I’m entitled to the winnings. If you don’t want to pay me, I’ll go to court.” Major Petrov narrowed his eyes.

“Court is long and expensive. Do you have the funds for a good lawyer?” Natalya met his gaze. “Are you sure you want a trial? Can you imagine the headlines: ‘Lottery Refuses to Pay Homeless Woman Who Found Ticket in the Trash’? Or, better yet, ‘Family of Deceased Businessman Throws Out Winning Ticket, Now Demands Money’? Who do you think public opinion will be on?” Silence reigned.

Oleg Viktorovich nodded awkwardly. “Let’s find a compromise,” he suggested. “We’re willing to pay you a reward for your discovery, say, 10 million, and the rest will go to Kravtsov’s family.”

“No,” Natalya said firmly. “Either you pay me the entire winnings according to the law, or I’ll go to court and the media. At the same time.”