Chapter 11: The First Sale

The next morning, Freya woke to a string of notifications. One of the limited-edition bags had sold at her listed price, and two buyers had made offers on other items. She sat upright in bed, suddenly wide awake. The first sale alone was worth several thousand dollars. After platform fees, it was still far more than she could earn from ordinary part-time work in the same amount of time.

She carefully checked the buyer's payment status before getting out of bed. After breakfast, she found the original dust bag, box, receipt, and authenticity card. The original Freya might have been careless with money, but thankfully she had been obsessive about luxury packaging. Almost everything was still stored somewhere in the apartment.

Louis entered the living room while Freya was wrapping the bag at the dining table. "Good morning." She looked up brightly. "Morning. I sold one." Louis glanced at the package. "Already?" "Of course. I priced it properly." Her proud expression made it seem as though she had completed a major business acquisition rather than sold a handbag.

Freya pushed a plate toward him. "Eat before it gets cold. I need to ship this afterward." Louis sat down. Today she had made fried eggs, toast, fruit, and coffee. The meal was simple, but after several days of eating her food, he had stopped showing surprise whenever she placed breakfast in front of him.

"How much did you sell it for?" he asked. Freya told him the amount. Louis knew the original purchase price and raised an eyebrow. "You could have asked for more." "And waited three months? No thanks. Money sitting in a closet doesn't help me." She took a bite of toast. "Fast turnover is better. I have too many things to sell."

Louis studied her for a moment. The old Freya would have considered selling a limited-edition bag humiliating. She had once waited months for certain releases simply because owning something rare made her happy. Now she discussed resale value and liquidity as naturally as a merchant.

After breakfast, Freya carried the package downstairs. On the way to the courier counter, her phone rang from an unfamiliar number. She almost ignored it, but answered at the last second. "Hello?" A woman's voice came through. "Freya? It's Melissa."

The name triggered a flood of memories. Melissa Hart—the original Freya's former best friend and the woman she had caught kissing Clement. Freya's expression immediately cooled. "What do you want?" Melissa laughed softly. "I heard Louis went bankrupt. I was worried about you. Are you okay?"

Freya almost admired the shamelessness. Clement had appeared yesterday, and Melissa was calling today. That couldn't be a coincidence. "I'm wonderful." "Really? People are saying you moved into a tiny apartment and can't even afford household staff." Melissa's concern sounded painfully fake. "If you need somewhere to stay, I could help."

"That's generous," Freya replied, "but I have a home." Melissa paused. "You're still with Louis?" "He's my husband. Where else would I be?" Another silence followed. Freya could practically hear the calculations happening on the other end.

Melissa finally said, "Clement mentioned seeing you yesterday. He said you seemed upset." Freya smiled coldly. There it was. "Tell Clement that if he needs to communicate with me, he can do it himself. Actually, don't. Tell him not to contact me either." Before Melissa could answer, Freya ended the call and blocked the number.

At the courier counter, she shipped the bag and saved the receipt. Instead of feeling annoyed, she felt strangely energized. If Clement and Melissa were both appearing now, something was definitely moving behind the scenes. The original novel had ended with Louis's defeat, but Freya suddenly realized something important: she was living beyond the final page. The story she knew was over, which meant from this moment forward, nobody—not even she—knew what would happen next.