Inside was a small black shoulder purse made of stiff, shiny plastic that gave off a strong smell of chemical glue.

The gold buckle on the front flap was already flaking at the seam, showing gray metal beneath.

“You paid thirty bucks for a knockoff at the highway strip mall,” Mark said, leaning over the back of Lily’s chair.

“Shut your mouth, Mark,” Vanessa snapped, her face going deep red.

“It isn’t leather,” Lily said, touching the stiff strap with one finger.

“It’s luxury,” Vanessa said, stepping right up to the edge of the dining table.