The first thing I will do, should I win the lottery is to shut my mouth and never tell anyone about it. Not even my mom.
The prize money goes directly to my bank accounts. For security purposes. I have never been comfortable carrying cash, not even a thousand pesos.
The millions would be then spread out to other banks. Maybe I'll open a savings account in BPI and China Bank just to make sure my eggs don't stay in a couple of baskets. I'd probably infuse money to my Sun Life Investment Fund. Hopefully, the interest it earns would be enough to cover the monthly bills and groceries at home.
If possible, I'd like to open a bank account for Baby Lenin and Baby Diego - without their parents' knowledge. The money would go for their education, so that one day, if ever the millions of pesos finally disappear, at least someone thought of my nephews' future.
The balatos will come in the form of wage hike for all the helpers; a "loaned" money for my dad's sister; and doubling the "family emergency fund," which I believe is entrusted to the Favorite Aunt. I'm not sure how to tell her that I've won the lottery, so maybe, I would simply return the money she once asked me to put in my bank account.
As for the "loaned" money, it's up to my dad's sister if she wants to return it. What matters is that she could start her own small business and liberate herself from her abusive son. The entrepreneurial instinct has always been there. Even my mom recognizes it. So maybe what's needed is the money for a venture to grow.
The wage hike might be a tricky subject: How can the helpers receive the money without my mom knowing about it. Would a stern warning work? Or better yet, a premium medical coverage that last until their retirement would be a fitting balato?
Let's see.
The truth is, should I become a lottery winner, the hardest part would be how to spend the money without people knowing your sudden change in fortune. It means taking great pains not to replace the more-than-a-decade-old car or acquire that town house overlooking the city. I will have to suppress the urges to buy back our publishing house, the security agency, and even becoming a co-owner of Eclipse. I will have to hold on to my old way of life and pretend I didn't have millions.
So that the wealth won't go to my head and unleash the beast in me.
Maybe an occasional dine out or an out-of-town trip with my loved ones might convey my eagerness to share the blessings. Or renovating the house, without asking the matriarch for a single centavo might let me off the hook. At this point, the only worth my millions have (since I've never really dreamed of winning the lottery, except now) is to make sure my loved ones' way of life stay comfortable and worry-free long after I'm gone.
But really, suppose I won the lottery and have already got the money. Would I remember this entry, or suffer the same fate like this man telling his tragedy in this story?