Welcome to the City

On a dark, dreary night, Mary rode back home after drinking heavily with her high school friends.

She hadn’t told her father, Archie, where she was. He worried too much, always treating her like she was still the suburban girl who had recently relocated to live with her dad after her parent’s bitter divorce.

Suddenly, a car shot out of nowhere, forcing the cab driver to swerve sharply, and before Mary could brace herself, the vehicle slammed into a lamppost. She was thrown forward as her head hit the divider.

Miss? Are you okay?” The cab driver’s voice screamed!

The cab driver stepped out of the car, waving for her to follow. “C’mon, let’s see if you’re hurt. I’ll call an ambulance.”

Dazed, she stumbled onto the sidewalk, feeling the sting of bruises forming on her arms and legs. A crowd had gathered, curious city dwellers eager for a spectacle. Mary turned to the driver, expecting him to take out his phone.

Instead, he jumped back into the cab, slammed the door shut, and drove away like a ghost vanishing into the night.

“What the—?” Mary swayed as her knees buckled, but a warm hand grabbed her arm before she could hit the pavement.

“Hey, don’t worry. I saw everything,” a woman said. “You hit your head bad. Hand me your phone because my battery’s dead, and I will call an ambulance for you.”

Still dizzy, Mary handed over her phone as she fought to stay conscious.

“Hang in there,” the woman said.

Mary’s vision faded as she watched the lady talking on her phone.

When Mary woke, the street was empty.

No ambulance. No helpful stranger. Panicked, she patted her pockets. No phone.

Her stomach clenched as the reality sank in. That woman hadn’t been a Good Samaritan—she had played her perfectly.

Stumbling through the streets, she walked back to her apartment. She fumbled with her keys, still shaking as she walked into her apartment. The warmth of the apartment was a stark contrast to the night’s bitter chill.

Archie stood in the living room, his arms crossed, eyes filled with worry and anger. “Where the hell have you been?”

As Mary began to explain, she heard a familiar sound before she could speak.

A phone vibrating.

She turned toward the coffee table where it sat, the screen glowing with an incoming call.

“Dad… where did you get that?”

“A woman found you on the street, unconscious. She called an ambulance, but you woke up and ran off before they arrived. She looked into your contact list, called me, and brought the phone here.

That wasn’t possible. The woman stole her phone.

“I didn’t run off,” she whispered. “There was no ambulance.”

Archie’s expression darkened. “Mary, what are you talking about?”

Then she saw it—her phone’s lock screen had been changed. The wallpaper was different. And at the top, a new notification flashed: Unknown Number: ‘You’re lucky I was feeling generous tonight. Welcome to the city.’