Chapter 1The Treasure-Hunting Fetus in My Womb

The very day I found out I was pregnant, I bought the abortion pills.

I was just about to swallow them when I heard a voice from deep within my womb.

[Mom! Don’t do it! I can make us rich!]

[My dad’s a mega-billionaire, and he’s a total sucker for chasing women.]

[He always goes for these stubborn, artsy girls who remind him of his 'one that got away.' He showers them with gifts, but they always toss them in the trash out of spite. I know where those trash cans are!]

I figured I was just losing my mind and moved to pop the pill in my mouth.

[Hundreds of grams of gold! The latest iPhone! Jewelry worth millions! And…]

I gagged, spitting the pill that was halfway down my throat right into the trash can at my feet.

"Where?! Tell me now!"

…

* * *

"Wait a second," I said, a thought suddenly striking me. "If your dad is a mega-billionaire, why don't I just go tell him I'm pregnant with his child? Wouldn't that be easier?"

My son’s voice laughed at my naivete. [He’s a mega-billionaire, Mom. You think he's short on women throwing themselves at him?]

[Stop watching those cheesy dramas where the CEO falls for the ordinary girl!]

[If you show up now, pregnant, how do you prove it’s his? He could get rid of me with a snap of his fingers! They’d probably brand you a gold-digger, make you disappear quietly. We just need to skim a little off the top and we'll be set for life. You gotta learn to be content, Mom. The world of the super-rich isn't as easy as you think.]

I nodded vigorously. Maybe my son had lived this life before. This was a new game, and he was giving me the cheat codes. Even if I did manage to get into that world, what’s the point of having money if you’re not alive to spend it? Better to just be alive.

"Okay, I'm with you," I said, rubbing my hands together excitedly, ready to dumpster-dive my way to financial freedom and the life of my dreams.

To prove he was for real, my son gave me an address.

I pedaled a shared bike for what felt like an eternity, finally rolling up to a trash can outside a mansion on Billionaire’s Row. I lifted the lid, and my eyes lit up.

"Wow, even the trash of the rich smells like money," I muttered.

It wasn't filled with rotting garbage, but mostly pristine gift boxes. I pulled a burlap sack from my coat and started stuffing it. Clang, clunk. I filled two whole sacks, tied them to the bike, and wobbled my way out of the exclusive neighborhood before I could finally hail a cab to drag my haul home.

Back home, I couldn't wait to start unboxing. An Hermès tie, a Parisian suit, a Chanel watch, Dior… After sorting through everything, I realized it was all men's stuff.

"Uh… son," I hesitated. "Is your dad's 'one that got away'… a guy?"

He let out a hearty laugh. [Don't worry, Mom, she's definitely a girl.]

[These are gifts from other businessmen trying to get on my dad's good side. He just tosses them.]

[He's a mega-billionaire. Stuff you can buy with money is boring to him. A lot of other women try to win him over too, sending him gifts. Every so often, he clears them all out and dumps them by the gate.]

[Which means every so often, you get to go on a treasure hunt.]

Hearing this, I couldn't stop grinning. "Son, you're my little lucky star."

I got everything organized, opened up an online marketplace app, and listed it all at 50% off. Brand new! The prices were a steal, and within twenty minutes, everything was sold.

My bank account, which had a pathetic balance of thirty dollars, suddenly jumped to over a million.

"Damn," I whistled. "This luxury stuff is no joke. People are fighting over it even secondhand. The quality is amazing, though."

My son's voice was smug in my belly. [Of course. We’re talking about my dad. The cheapest gift anyone would dare to send him is worth at least a hundred grand. Sending something cheap would be a huge embarrassment. For these people, saving face is everything.]