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Stephen never actually checks the lottery ticket. He bought it on a whim, more as a prop for a joke he was playing on Tony than anything else. He doesn’t need to check it; it’s served its purpose. But FRIDAY checks for him, which is how he finds out he’s won 2 million dollars.
Tony looks amused at her announcement. “Why’d you even enter the lottery? It’s not like you need the money.”
He’s not talking about himself. Stephen had been heavily insured when he was a doctor, not just against malpractice lawsuits (which were an unavoidable hazard of the profession, no matter how good you were) but also against interruptions to his career. It had taken a long time to push the claim through the system (once he started trying; in the immediate aftermath, it had felt like surrender), but his benefits were quite generous now. More than he needed, really—most of it went to support Kamar Taj.
“I needed a ticket for that joke I played on you,” he says.
“Wait, that was a real ticket?”
Stephen nodded. “It was easier than faking one.” He rubs his forehead tiredly. “I don’t even know where it is now.”
FRIDAY has the answer, of course. “It’s in a drawer in the boss’s lab,” she provides.
Stephen winces. “Shit. What the hell do I do with it? I can’t claim it, how would that look? Someone with a seven figure income, who is dating an actual billionaire, claiming a prize that would be life changing for someone else? What a disaster.”
“If you don’t claim it, they’ll just roll it into the next prize,” Tony suggests.
“No, taking the easy way out got me into this situation in the first place,” Stephen says. “With my luck, someone will track down the ticket.”
Tony shrugs. “Then claim it and donate it. You can tell the truth and everything: you bought it on a lark, never expected to win, and want to make sure it goes to people who need it.”
Stephen considers that and nods slowly. “Yes, that could work.” Relieved, he leans over and gives Tony a grateful kiss. “Thank you.”