Vaelis walked through the city streets, the night air crisp against her skin. The weight of her confrontation with her parents had settled, but there was no time to linger on it. She had made her decision. She would leave. And that meant securing her future—on her own terms.

Step one: Education.

She needed a scholarship. Tuition at a top university was expensive, but Vaelis had never been anything less than exceptional. She had the grades, the accolades—now, she just needed to make sure she stood out.

She spent the next few days researching, compiling a list of competitive scholarships. Academic, merit-based, even those tied to specific industries—she wouldn’t limit herself. The application process was rigorous, but that didn’t deter her.

This was her way out.

And she would take it.

Step two: Living expenses.

Even with a full-ride scholarship, she couldn’t survive on nothing. Rent, food, daily necessities—she needed a steady income.

But traditional jobs wouldn’t cut it.

Vaelis was realistic. A part-time job in retail or waitressing wouldn’t give her the financial security she needed fast enough. Instead, she thought bigger.

Her mind raced through possibilities—tutoring? Too slow. Freelancing? Possible, but unreliable.

Then, she found it.

A growing industry where wealth moved fast, where connections were key.

Luxury consignment.

She had seen it firsthand—the way women at banquets carried limited-edition designer bags, only to discard them the moment a new collection dropped. These pieces held value. And those too rich to care about reselling them? They were opportunities.

Vaelis wasted no time. She researched everything—authenticity checks, market prices, the right clientele. If she played her cards right, she could turn discarded luxury into steady income.

All she needed was the right first deal.

---

The First Move

The morning was early when Vaelis made her way to a well-known café in the business district—one that catered to the city’s elite. The kind of place where high-powered executives met for casual negotiations over espresso.

She wasn’t here for coffee.

She had carefully selected her outfit—polished but understated, something that made her look like she belonged. She had always known how to blend in when necessary.

At a corner table, she spotted her first target—a woman in her late thirties, elegantly dressed, a Cartier watch glinting at her wrist. Vaelis had seen her before at one of the banquets, casually mentioning how she had “no space” for her older collections.

Perfect.

With quiet confidence, Vaelis approached.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice smooth, poised. “I couldn’t help but overhear at the last gala—you mentioned you were thinking of clearing out some of your older pieces?”

The woman glanced up, mildly intrigued. “And you are?”

Vaelis smiled—polite, unreadable. “Someone who can make that process effortless for you.”

A pause. Then, the woman gestured for her to sit.

Vaelis did.

Vaelis settled into the chair across from the woman, her posture poised but relaxed, as if she belonged here. The woman, elegant and composed, studied her with mild curiosity.

“I assume you’re in the luxury resale business?” the woman asked, lifting her espresso cup.

“In a way,” Vaelis replied smoothly. “I specialize in discreet, high-value transactions. Some people prefer to handle things quietly rather than go through public consignment stores.”

The woman arched a brow, interested but wary. “And how do I know I’m not being scammed?”

Vaelis smiled faintly. “Because I know exactly how much your Hermès Kelly from last season is worth. You bought it for status, but now it’s just another item taking up space in your closet. Meanwhile, the resale market values it at nearly double the original price—if you know the right buyers.”

A flicker of surprise crossed the woman’s face, though she hid it well.

Vaelis continued, her voice steady. “If you went through a boutique, they’d take a high commission. And public resellers? Too much hassle. I offer an alternative—I connect your pieces with serious buyers directly. Fast, discreet, and at a price that benefits both of us.”

The woman set her cup down, intrigued. “And your cut?”

“Twenty percent, negotiated per item. If I don’t sell, you don’t lose.”

The woman exhaled, considering. Then, with a smirk, she leaned back. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that. Most girls your age are too intimidated to talk business at this level.”

Vaelis met her gaze without hesitation. “Most girls my age don’t have a reason to win.”

A pause. Then, the woman nodded. “Fine. I have a few pieces I was considering parting with. Let’s see what you can do.”

Vaelis reached into her bag, pulling out a sleek business card—freshly printed, with only her name and contact. No company, no storefront. Just her.

The woman took it, turning it over between her fingers before slipping it into her purse.

“Impress me,” she said.

Vaelis simply smiled.

“I intend to.”