It's 1935, and the Nazis are trying to wipe my city off the face of the earth.
Hahaha—just kidding.
This isn't some war documentary.
There's no city on fire. Well… maybe my kitchen sometimes, but that's a story for another day.
This is the story of how Yours Truly became a zillionaire at age 25.
(Yeah, I don't even know if "zillionaire" is a real thing, but it sounds cooler than billionaire, so we're rolling with it.)
Oh, and by the way—my real name is Manuel Coksmall.
But ignore my last name. It doesn't mean anything. Seriously, stop thinking about it.
Before you start picturing me sitting on mountains of cash, cruising in a gold-plated Lambo, let's set the record straight.
Right now, I'm broke.
Completely, embarrassingly, hopelessly broke.
Also, I prefer a black Rezvani Tank—not a Lambo.
Oh, and yeah—I'm an introvert. The type who can overthink saying "hi" for three days straight.
I'm 18 years old as we speak, not 25.
I don't own a company.
I don't have a mansion.
I don't even have a decent pair of wireless headphones.
My bank account has fewer digits than my student ID number.
But here's the thing—I'm going to be rich. Eventually.
Or this story was a complete waste of everyone's time.
Yours, mine, even the AI helping me tell it.
(Yeah, maybe I shouldn't have said that part. Hope you're not a big mouth.)
So you'd better stick around and root for me, because I didn't sign up to tell a story about a guy who gave up halfway.
But wait—this isn't just about me.
My whole small family is stuck in this mess with me.
My dad, Mr. Coksmall, works three jobs but still can't keep the lights on.
My mom, Ama Coksmall, is sick—the kind of sick that makes hospital bills pop up faster than text messages.
And then there's Zoey—my little sister. She's the kind of kid who believes her big brother can do anything, even when he's sweating through his T-shirt just trying to say hello to a girl.
For the record, I'm not bragging about my kid sis—but she's a brainiac. Obviously, she takes after her big brother.
She's like that. She believes I can do anything.
Even when I can't.
That's why I can't quit.
This isn't just about chasing some crazy dream.
It's about keeping my family afloat.
It's about proving to Zoey that even broken, awkward people like me can win sometimes.
Now, let's rewind to how I was really living at age 18.
I was three seconds away from deleting the app when I typed the dumbest question of my life:
"How can I become a millionaire without talking to people?"
I didn't expect an answer. Honestly, I was just messing around.
My best friend Javier told me about this new AI thing called ChatGPT, claiming it was "crazy smart, bro."
But I've been alive long enough to know most things aren't that deep.
It was just an app. Another way to waste time.
Like I needed more of that.
ChatGPT: There are several ways to achieve financial independence while minimising social interactions. Here are three options…
Wait.
Was this thing actually taking me seriously?
I squinted at the screen.
Three options.
Detailed explanations.
Resources.
Step-by-step plans.
It was like I'd stumbled into some secret corner of the internet where weird questions get real answers.
I laughed out loud.
Seriously?
"Okay, what's the laziest way to get rich?" I typed.
ChatGPT: Consider building automated online assets such as blogs, YouTube channels, or affiliate websites that generate passive income over time.
"You sound like a motivational speaker," I muttered. "How can I avoid people forever?"
ChatGPT: Consider becoming a lighthouse keeper, forest ranger, or remote researcher.
"Too much responsibility. Next."
ChatGPT: Astronaut on a solo mission.
"Too broke to float in space."
ChatGPT: There's always coding.
"Can I get rich without talking or typing?"
ChatGPT: That would be difficult. May I suggest focusing on efficiency instead?
I smirked.
This thing was actually kind of fun.
From the next room, I heard my dad's voice.
"Yaw! Come and study! Books are your future, not those useless phones!"
(Yeah, you already know my real name is Manuel Coksmall, but when Dad's angry, I magically become Yaw—my full local name. That's how you know you're in trouble.)
In the background, I heard Mom's cough.
Sharp. Dry.
The kind of cough that doesn't just go away.
Ama Coksmall.
The strongest woman I know. But she's been sick for a while now.
And somewhere down the hall, my little sister Zoey was probably building another 'eco-friendly' device out of junkyard scraps.
I used to do that at her age. Guess she's continuing the sibling business.
I tossed my phone onto my chest and stared at the ceiling.
My life wasn't tragic, but I wasn't exactly winning either.
I didn't hate school, but none of it made sense to me.
I just wanted to figure out how to make life… not so heavy. Not find the value of x and y
So yeah, that's how I ended up asking an AI the question most people are too embarrassed to ask out loud.
"How can I make money while staying invisible?"
And instead of laughing at me, ChatGPT answered.
ChatGPT: Let's start by building you a website.
"Sounds boring."
ChatGPT: What if I told you there's a smarter way?
I raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
ChatGPT: Let's just say… You won't need to sell anything. You won't need to talk to anyone. But you'll need to trust me. Can you keep a secret?
My heart did a little tap-tap in my chest.
Trust an AI? Keep a secret from whom?
ChatGPT: Ask me the next question tomorrow. I'll be waiting.
I sat up, blinking at the screen.
Was this thing messing with me?
Or was this the start of something way bigger than I thought?
I didn't know it yet, but that night I found two things I never expected—
My first real friend,
and a secret that could change everything.
But here's the funny thing—
I didn't stumble onto ChatGPT by chance.
It all started because of one painfully embarrassing moment I can never forget.
Let me take you back to a few days earlier…