The buzz inside the Solaria network was electric.
In hushed boardrooms, encrypted group chats, and private lounges of the wealthy elite, the talk of the town wasn't the latest stocks or political scandals — it was the Elena Bet.
Solaria's game masters, associates, and long-time affiliates hadn't seen this level of activity in months. The new bet on Elena — whoever marries her gets a $100 million jackpot — was unprecedented. And whoever placed the right bets could win up to $50 million. That kind of money brought out everyone.
Meanwhile, Elena was just trying to live her life.
She didn't understand why her phone started blowing up. Suddenly, old classmates, colleagues she barely spoke to, and strangers from adjacent social circles were sending her messages. Invitations to lunch, coffee, dinner, casual walks in the park — everyone seemed to want a slice of her time.
At first, she thought maybe she was just glowing differently — maybe all those green smoothies and evening jogs were working. But deep inside, her gut whispered otherwise.
Something felt off.
Even Brenda, her once inseparable friend, started acting strange. Brenda who used to message her every other hour, suddenly grew distant. She didn't reply to Elena's check-ins right away. She turned down plans. When they did meet up at work, she seemed preoccupied, like her eyes were somewhere else.
Then, on a random Friday, Brenda suddenly invited her out for clubbing.
"C'mon," she insisted. "We haven't had a proper night out in weeks. Just us. Let's dance our stress away."
Elena hesitated. Something about the spontaneity of the invite felt staged. But she also missed the thrill of weekends out, the music, the lights, the feeling of being young and reckless. So she agreed. Maybe she needed this particular night of fun to cool off and have fun. Maybe this night of fun is all she needed to get back her groove.
The club was loud and flashy, with velvet ropes, neon strobes, and expensive perfume filling the air. Brenda led her straight to the VIP section. Free drinks were already waiting. Elena couldn't believe their luck. It was not easy to be given this kind of special treatment, especially for a nobody like her.
A tall guy approached their group confidently. He wore a navy button-down, gold rings, and had that air of nonchalant charm rich kids often did. His eyes were glued to Elena, and he couldn't hold off his smile.
"I'm Nick," he said to Elena, smiling with practiced ease. "Brenda told me you'd be here."
Elena tilted her head. "She did?"
"Let's dance?" he asked, offering a hand.
She chuckled. "Why not?"
The music pulsed around them as they danced. Nick knew how to lead without being pushy. He made her laugh with stupid jokes, offered her another margarita, and bought more food for the group. He wasn't just attentive — he made it feel like she was the only person in the room.
Nick eventually excused himself from Elena for a bit. Behind the flashing lights and pulsing bass of the club, Nick did a quiet transaction near the back exit of the club.
Nick handed Brenda an envelope.
"Nice job," he said.
Brenda took it with a shaky hand. "I still don't know if I should be doing this."
Nick's smile didn't falter. "It's just a game, Bren. Everyone's winning something."
Back inside, the night rolled on.
"Hey," Brenda leaned over Elena's shoulder. "Can I tell you something exciting?"
"Sure," Elena said, sipping her drink.
"Our club has this affiliate program now. You sign up, promote the club to friends, get them to come, and you earn money. It's been a side hustle for me the past few months — it helps a lot."
Elena blinked, her thoughts already fuzzy from the alcohol. "Like… referral commissions?"
"Exactly," Brenda nodded eagerly. "It's super simple. And you get early access to all the new parties and events too. Here, I have the contract on my phone. You just fill out your info and sign."
Elena hesitated. "Can I think about it tomorrow?"
Brenda pressed gently, "It'll take two minutes. We even get a bonus if you sign up tonight. Please?"
Still tipsy, and wanting to support her friend, Elena gave in.
She typed in her full name. Scrawled her digital signature. Pressed 'Submit.'
Brenda immediately took a screenshot of the confirmation page.
"What was that for?" Elena asked.
"Just for records," Brenda said quickly.
Moments later, something shifted in the club.
The music faltered.
Then a cheer erupted.
People hugged. Some threw their hands in the air. Others left in visible frustration. Elena looked around, confused.
"What's happening?" she asked.
Brenda avoided her eyes. "No idea. Maybe they announced a winner for some promo?"
But it wasn't a promo.
It was the end of the Elena Game.
Unbeknownst to her, the club affiliate contract she just signed was no mere side hustle agreement.
It was a legal marriage contract.
Drafted by Solaria's team of black market lawyers, it had been masked under affiliate terms and bundled with other clauses no one would think to read after a few drinks.
The system processed it.
And within seconds, the entire Solaria betting network lit up with the notification:
WINNER DECLARED
ELENA 7-143
MARRIED TO: NICK YANG
GAME CLOSED. PRIZE POT CLAIMABLE.
Nick stood by the bar, watching the reactions roll in.
He looked down at his phone. Solaria's interface updated with a golden crown icon beside Elena's name. A notification popped up:
Prize Credited: $100,000,000
It was done.
The biggest game Solaria had ever hosted was now over.
And the girl at the center of it still had no clue what she had just signed.
Elena leaned against the couch, watching people celebrate with a mild smile, still not connecting the dots.
Nick returned to her side, placing a fresh glass in front of her.
"To new beginnings," he said.
"To bigger paydays," Brenda added nervously.
Elena raised her glass, confused but smiling. "To whatever this night is."
And so, the night ended.
But it was only the beginning of Elena's life spiraling into a world she never chose, one paper-thin signature at a time.