Chapter 1
I listed my old books on LetGo and messed up, accidentally adding a few extra zeros to the price.
In the next second, a system notification popped up.
“Your item has been sold for 300,000 dollars.”
Slack–jawed, I tried to contact the buyer, hoping he would apply for a refund.
Then I saw who he was–Shaun Chapman, the heir to the Chapman. family, the top family in Washington, D. C.
He asked me with grief, “Do you have any other Mona Becker’s belongings?
“Name your price. I’ll pay whatever you want.
“She was my late wife.”
Before moving, I cleaned out the bookshelf and found a bunch of SAT prep books.
Figuring they were still worth something, I listed them on a secondhand platform for 30 dollars.
Arnold Tate laughed at me, saying I was obsessed with money.
“They’ve revised the textbooks already, OK? These belong to the recycling station. 30 dollars? Are you serious?”
e do ou
I retorted. “They represent my youth.
“Selling them cheap feels like disrespecting them.”
But honestly, I didn’t have much hope.
It had been seven years since I graduated from college and a whole decade since I took the SAT. The textbooks had been revised multiple times, and maybe Arnold was right–the recycling station was where they truly belonged.
To my surprise, within three minutes, I received a notification telling me my books had been sold.
Overjoyed, I opened the app.
The next second, I was slack–jawed, rubbing my eyes hard. “300,000 dollars?”
What the heck? Did I set the currency wrong?
As I checked my other listings, I saw the dollar sign right there.
Suddenly, it occurred to me that when I was setting the price, I seemed to have entered a few extra zeros. And I hadn’t even noticed.
Perhaps the buyer hadn’t checked the price either.
I was so bitter.
Seriously, who buys something without checking the price? How could someone not notice the difference between 30 dollars and 300,000 dollars?
How could someone this stupid actually have 300,000 dollars in his
account?
a to pojdies
Life was so unfair!
Clenching my fists, I took a few deep breaths to calm down. Then I opened the chat on LetGo and sent the buyer a smiling emoji.
“Sorry. I set the price wrong. You should request a refund.”
The buyer replied instantly.
“Wrong? What do you mean? Do you think I should pay more? Fine. How much?”
Had the world gone crazy?
Or had the dollar suddenly lost its value? It was 300,000 dollars, and I was supposed to ask for more?
Was this guy even speaking English?
I clicked on the buyer’s profile. His picture was blank, but in the bio section, I saw two all–too–familiar words: Shaun Chapman.
My heart started pounding like crazy.
