What Are The Best Strategies For 'Success Is A Numbers Game'?

A small-time office worker—constantly being pushed around by others and abandoned by his wife—turned into the richest of the rich overnight.

After I was caught in a dockside explosion, I was bound to a Survival Program. It gave me twenty-five years and four designated targets. If even one target’s Love Score or bond score reached 100%, I could wake up in my real world. But I failed all four. Because every target I tried to reach eventually turned toward Sophia Lane, the heroine of this world. They called my pain a performance. They called my tears manipulation. They said I was only pretending to break down so they would choose me over Sophia. But if they never loved me, why did they lose control when my mission failed and I chose to leave this world for good?

I am born lucky. One can say I'm a money magnet. I'd even win a car when buying a can of soda. The company relies on the numbers I pick to win bids. We go from the brink of bankruptcy to the third-largest company in the city. Then, during a business trip, I casually buy a lottery ticket and win 3,000 dollars. The newly hired finance manager, Owen Pearson, immediately demands that I turn over the entire prize. When I explain that I bought the ticket with my own money, he flies into a rage. "Any profit generated during working hours belongs to the company! Who do you think you are? How dare you refuse to follow company policy? If you win three million dollars after work, that's your business. But if you win three dollars during work hours, that's company property!" I can't be bothered to argue with him, so I call the CEO's fiancée, Macy Sanford. To my surprise, she agrees with him. "He has a point. If the company hadn't paid for your business trip, you wouldn't have had the opportunity to win the lottery in the first place." Owen is even more smug as he orders, "Just hand over the money. The 3,000 dollars will be deducted from your paycheck, and we'll deduct another 30 thousand dollars as a penalty for embezzling company funds. That should teach you a lesson." I tighten my grip on the lottery ticket and say nothing more. One week later, the company participates in the biggest bidding project of the year. Everyone turns to look at me, expecting me to provide the winning numbers. I simply smile and say, "Sorry. I've already resigned. I have no obligation to fill out the bid proposal anymore."

A month before the SATs, I, Jenny Reid, could see my score. Literally. It was just floating right above my head. But there was a catch. Every time I cracked open a prep book, my score would drop by ten points. But if I skipped a day of school? It jumped right back up by ten. So, I played the system. For a whole month, I barely lifted a finger. And on the day of the test, the number glowing over my head was a solid 1560. When the scores finally dropped online… I'd scored a 500. And the 1560? That was my little sister Patricia's score. My parents lost it. As punishment, they got me a grueling night-shift job at a local electronics factory. That first night, a bunch of guys I'd never seen before cornered me in the parking lot and beat me half to death. Fading in and out of consciousness, I heard my sister's voice right by my ear. "You just had to one-up me, didn't you? Thought you were so smart… but you never figured out I was the one controlling that number over your head." The truth hit me like a physical blow. The score had been her trick all along. I opened my eyes—and I was back. One month before the SATs. The number above my head read exactly 1300. "Hey," my sister said, all fake sweetness. "Want to study together tonight? We can go over the practice tests." I looked at the stack of papers in my own hands. Without a word, I pulled out my lighter and set them on fire right there in the driveway. "Exams are coming," I said, watching the flames. "I'm not studying." My score ticked up to 1310. My sister's face was this perfect mask of disappointment, but the second I turned away, I caught the sly smile she couldn't quite hide. She had no idea… the real performance, the one I'd been rehearsing just for her, was finally about to begin.

My father was a senior HR executive. He used KPIs to define my life. "Rank top ten in your grade, and I'll give you a B, with a bonus of 250 dollars. "Place in a state-level competition, and you'll get an A, with a bonus of 500. "If your SAT score hits Ivy-level, I'll give you an S+ and a 5,000-dollar year-end bonus." I studied as if my life depended on it, and in the end, I got the acceptance letter. My father slapped a contract down in front of me instead. "Congratulations on onboarding into the next phase. Starting today, your allowance will be structured as base salary plus performance plus attendance bonus. "Base pay is 250 dollars a month, enough to keep you from starving. "To prepare you for a high-pressure work environment, I’ll conduct random inspections. Fail, and your pay gets docked." When I ran a 104°F fever, he cut my attendance bonus, saying my physical resilience didn't meet standards. When I forgot to submit a weekly report because I was buried in schoolwork, he froze all my money. To stay alive, I went behind his back and sold blood at the hospital. At the end of the semester, I held my transcript and scholarship certificate, thinking I had finally earned the highest rating. But my father looked at me without a trace of warmth. "Your S+ bonus has been reallocated. The company decided to invest it in your brother, Harry. He has more potential." I looked at the 100-dollar "consolation prize" he handed me and laughed. So in his company, I didn't even qualify as an "outstanding employee."

This guy could offer me the moon, and I’d hand it right back. Never in a million years did I expect to run into the biggest crush of my childhood. But, of course, I have. And I’m reporting to him at the new company I landed a big-time job at. Arrogant. Hot as hell. Total jackass. Why he’s still single is no mystery to me. He’s not willing to settle down. He’s always been that way, and as far as I’m concerned, he always will be. But, boy, is he beautiful to look at. Every part of me screams "run" as my insides turn to mush. No. Not me too… Not again. I should be immune by now. I know him far too well to fall into this hopeless pit of adoration again. But maybe there’s a way around it. It’s his power that drives me over the edge of insanity. If I were the boss instead of him, I’d hold all the cards. Good thing I’m always up for a challenge. Funnily enough, this guy thinks he’s going to score. He might have to redefine what getting lucky looks like after me. At least, that’s the plan.