Queen of the Vault

The rich kid my cousin was dating, Trevor, suddenly showed up at my store with a high-end replica handbag, trying to get a refund for the authentic one he’d bought three days earlier.

When the front desk called me, I was surprised, but I didn’t reveal who I was. I just told them to handle it by the book.

I figured it was just another one of the countless little dramas that played out daily across my chain of luxury resale stores and promptly forgot about it.

Until Christmas Eve, at the family dinner table, when my cousin Liz, with Trevor’s arm wrapped around her, slapped an identical…