<b>Chapter </b>1
L
“Sorry ma’am, your Prada bag is a fake<b>.</b>”
The Prada’s salesman words made my stomach drop. My boyfriend’s Valentine’s gift was actually a knockoff?
But he had clearly told me it was real, even shoving me his order: “Nordstrom–Prada Bag-<b>$</b>22,000!”
Completely confused, I posted the whole mess on Reddit.
Within minutes, the topment caught my attention:
[Yo, am I the only one seeing red gs? Why’s the order screenshot cropped?<b>] </b>
<b>[</b>I bet there’s another order right above that, huh?]
Before I could even process it, I saw anotherment:
[Well. I’m just saying, sis, what if he bought two bags–real and fake–and gave you the fake but showed the real receipt?]
My heart seemed to stop. My hands were uncontrobly shaking holding my phone.
Then I saw the next one:
[Girlie, maybe just forget about real vs fake bags–the real tea is WHO’s he giving the other one to??]
That post had me messed up all day.
When my coworker said the bag was fake, I took it straight to the boutique.
Yep, fake as hell. Cheap knockoff.
Nobody wants to get a fake bag as a gift.
So I couldn’t help but confront Bryce Montgomery about it.
Yet he acted all hurt and defensive, immediately sent me that order screenshot.
“I was gonna take you to pick one out yourself, but I’ve been swamped with overtime. No time.” <fn297d> Th? link to the orig?n of this information r?sts ?n find?novel</fn297d>
“So I just ordered one from the official store online.”
The screenshot was crystal cleartest Prada model, <b>$</b>22,000.
How do you even get a fake bag from the official store?
That’s when I made that post.
And got that bombshell response:
[Screenshot’s only showing half–means there’s something above he doesn’t want you to see.]
[Bag’s fake, order’s real–obviously he bought TWO bags! The cut–off part is definitely the fake bag order.]
[Girl, forget about real vs fake! Your man’s been ROBBING you blind!<b>] </b>
Comment afterment flew by.
I felt like a boulder crushing my chest.
To get through this trust crisis, I needed to see his phone for the first time ever.
Just needed to see thatplete order screenshot…
Seeing me all gloomy, Bryce came over and put his arm around me.
“Still upset about that bag?”
“How about this weekend I take you shopping? We’ll hit the boutique, you can pick whatever you want.”
His eyes looked so genuine and warm.
Then he pulled out this orange Kidrobot Dunny figure from his pocket.
“…Why’d you buy this?”
“My girl’s upset, gotta get her something cute to cheer her up.”
“Gonna look cute hanging off your bag.”
He said it like it was totally normal.
But I felt like someone dumped ice water on me.
Bryce and I had known each other for ten years.
He was this artsy engineering guy who always turned his nose up at trendy stuff like this.
Now suddenly he’s pulling keychain figures out of his pocket?
That’s when it hit me–maybe those onlinements were right.
Maybe I really was getting yed.
I forced a smile, pretending he’d cheered me up.
“There’s a package downstairs for me. Can you grab it?”
I handed him my phone.
“The tracking numbers are all in there.”
He took it without hesitation, leaving his phone on the coffee table.
Soon as he left, I typed in his passcode with shaking hands–knew it by heart–and went straight to his order history.
That moment felt like getting hit with a sledgehammer.
That half–screenshot order page showed two bags.
One real, one fake.
Real one was <b>$</b>22,000, fake was from some leather factory in Anta-<b>$</b>80.
Damn, those online users nailed it.
<b>He </b>gave me the fake bag. So who got the real one<b>? </b>