Chapter 1The Sneaker Flip

After getting my year-end bonus, I bought my grad student boyfriend a pair of limited-edition Jordans.

I didn't expect to see them listed on Facebook Marketplace the very next day for twenty percent of the price. The box wasn't even opened.

I bought them immediately. After confirming the pickup, I called my boyfriend.

"Babe, do you like the little surprise I got you?"

Brad sounded confused. "What surprise?"

I smiled, feigning disappointment.

"I hid a vintage Patek Philippe watch inside the shoe box. It cost over seventy thousand dollars. You didn't see it?"

...

I was scrolling through Marketplace over the weekend when I saw a local listing.

[Limited Edition Jordans, Size 10.5, Brand New in Box. Urgent Sale! Only $300!]

I stared at the text, frozen.

I had just bought these shoes two days ago. Same style, same size. Because they were limited edition and a rare size, I stayed up for three nights in a row to snag them on the drop. I spent over a grand to get them.

Maybe they were fakes?

I tapped on the post and swiped through the photos.

I stopped cold when I saw the wrapping paper around the shoe box.

It was matte grey with subtle silver embossing. Exactly what I had chosen.

The standard shipping box was too plain, so I had gone to two different boutiques to find this specific wrapping paper. I picked the understated grey because I was afraid Brad would think it was too flashy.

I told myself it might be a coincidence, but my fingertips were turning ice cold.

I clicked on the seller's profile. The location was right here in Chicago.

I sat in silence for a moment, then hit the "Message" button.

"Hi, are these still available? Are they authentic? Why so cheap?"

The reply was instant.

"Don't worry, they're 100% real. Shipped directly from the flagship store. I haven't even taken the wrapping off."

Then, he sent a screenshot of the tracking info.

Receiver: Brad.

Sender: My Amazon account name.

I almost dropped my phone.

The seller was definitely my boyfriend, Brad.

I had sent him that exact tracking screenshot myself.

My fingers went stiff. I took a deep breath and clicked on his seller profile, scrolling down.

We'd been together for six months. Almost everything I had given him was listed there.

The noise-canceling headphones I gave him for our one-month anniversary. Listed for $150.

The gaming console for our 100-day anniversary. Listed for $250.

The latest iPad Pro I bought him recently because he said he needed it for research. Listed for $600.

All marked as "Sold."

And a scarf.

I had knitted it myself last winter. My fingers had blistered from the needles.

He had hugged me then, swearing he'd wear it forever.

Now it was listed for $10.

The description read: Gift from a friend. Not my style. Just sitting around.

I stared at those words, nausea rising in my throat.

Since we started dating, Brad asked for gifts constantly.

There was always a reason.

One-month anniversary, 100 days, his birthday, his thesis proposal getting approved...

I bought something every time.

I've been working for two years; he's still in grad school.

I figured he had no income, so I tried to spare him any expense.

So even when his return gifts were just cheap snack boxes or freebies he got from online promos, I never said anything.

I thought I was being understanding. Now I see it. To him, I was just an ATM.

A new message popped up.

"Hey beautiful, you still interested? If you're serious, I can lower the price a bit. I can ship it out today."