I’ve always been a flea market enthusiast, a habit I inherited from my grandmother, who taught me to hunt for “preloved jewels.” It’s something I’ve cherished for years—scouring the bins, hoping to find a hidden treasure. My husband, Sam, has never understood my love for these so-called “hoarder junk” finds. It’s a point of contention between us, but I refused to let go of this passion. One Saturday, I visited a nearby street fair and came across a modest display where I found a small porcelain and enamel egg. It didn’t look like much, but something about it caught my attention. After some haggling, I paid \$10 for it, despite the vendor insisting it was worth \$25. I proudly took it home to show Sam, but he immediately mocked me. When he examined the egg, he saw the “Made in Hong Kong” mark and laughed, calling it a worthless piece of junk. But as I shook the egg, I noticed something inside. When Sam opened it, he found a tiny bundle of red silk with a pair of earrings inside. Initially skeptical, Sam soon realized these earrings were unlike anything he’d seen. After testing them, he believed they might be real diamonds. We took them to a jeweler, who confirmed they were, in fact, diamonds, set in 18-carat white gold with emeralds—worth at least \$300,000. To our amazement, the earrings eventually sold for \$3 million at auction. We now have a comfortable nest egg, and the porcelain egg holds pride of place in our home. Sam, once a skeptic, is now a fellow flea market enthusiast, joining me on every hunt for hidden treasures. While we haven’t found that elusive Van Gogh yet, we remain hopeful—proof that one person’s trash truly is another’s treasure