Chapter 3The Treasure-Hunting Fetus in My Womb

I watched her toss a small box into a public trash can. The second she was gone, I pounced, digging through the garbage. Just as I pulled the gift box out, another hand shot out and grabbed it.

I instinctively clutched it tighter, but he held on. He frowned, trying to wrench it from my grasp. I glared back, holding on for dear life. "Let go! I saw it first, it's mine!"

It was dark, and the street was mostly empty. I’d heard about people who did this on holidays like Christmas Eve, scavenging through trash for valuables. Any other piece of trash I would’ve let go, but this was a necklace worth millions.

I grit my teeth, and before he could say anything, I bit down hard on his arm. He yelped in pain and let go. I scrambled away, jumped on my e-bike, and sped off into the night.

"Trying to steal from me? Not a chance," I huffed. "Pretty badass, right, son?"

[Yeah, totally badass.]

For some reason, he sounded a little distracted. But my attention was quickly drawn to all the couples walking around with flowers and gifts. I’d heard stories of people finding phones and gold on nights like this. Why not give it a try?

I pulled on a mask and coaxed my son into telling me which trash cans were likely to have treasure.

I found three brand-new iPhones, several rings—diamond, gold, platinum—and one fake one, which I threw back in disgust. "Jerk. Proposing with a fake ring." I found a bunch of other miscellaneous stuff too.

That night, I slept surrounded by my haul, dreaming of riches.

The next morning, a knock from the police woke me up. That's when I finally understood why my son had warned me against picking up the other stuff.

I sat at the police station, giving my statement, turning over everything I’d found the night before. I even had to write a thousand-word apology letter, promising to turn in any found items to the police in the future.

Everything except the necklace, of course.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I kicked a stray pebble on the sidewalk.

Thwack!

Pain shot through my foot, and I hopped around, howling. I squatted down, on the verge of tears.

"I worked so hard for that! Why? Why did I have to give it all back? Waaah…"

For once, my son didn't tease me. He sounded sympathetic. [Mom, you can't touch poor people's money.]

[Think about it. If a gift gets thrown away, what does that mean?]

I sniffled. "What does it mean?"

[It means the girl didn’t want it, but the guy forced it on her. When he finds out it’s gone, he’s going to want it back. And whoever is on the security camera grabbing it is the one who gets in trouble.]

[My dad is different. He’s a billionaire. He doesn’t care about the money. He gives away gifts worth millions, and if they get tossed, he doesn't give it a second thought.]

I was still sulking.

He continued, [What you lost today was maybe five grand, total. But that necklace you got from my dad? That's worth over ten million.]

I wiped my tears. Confidence restored!

Ten million.

The first thing I did when I got home was look up the necklace's original price. When I saw the thirteen-million-dollar price tag, I gasped. I hugged the box and jumped around the room for a solid five minutes.

My son's voice squealed from inside me. [Whoa, Mom, careful! Be careful! Don't bounce me out of here!]

I immediately calmed down. The morning's unpleasantness at the station vanished. Pure bliss.

Mask on, I headed to a luxury consignment shop.