Chapter 2

The heavy mahogany door clicked open.

A sleek, manicured hand pushed it inward, followed by the soft click of designer heels against the marble floor. Chloe Smith stepped into the foyer, holding a duplicate keycard in her right hand and a designer handbag in her left.

She was wearing a pastel pink summer dress, her eyes wide with carefully practiced innocence. But when she saw Cecilia standing in the center of the living room, staring directly at her, Chloe’s step faltered.

“C-Cecilia?” Chloe stammered, quickly slipping the keycard into her purse. “You’re awake? Julian called me in a panic... he said you sounded strange on the phone and hung up on him. I was so worried about you, so I used the spare key to check if you were okay!”

Cecilia didn't move. She stood beneath the crystal chandelier, her eyes dark, deep, and devoid of any human warmth.

In her past life, Cecilia would have fallen for that look. She would have apologized for her bad mood, handed over her late mother’s signature seal, and allowed Chloe to drain her inheritance under the guise of "family solidarity."

Look at her, Cecilia thought, her blood burning like liquid fire behind her ribs. The same innocent face that watched me get torn apart by wild beasts.

“Worried?” Cecilia asked, her voice dangerously smooth. “Or were you coming to raid my safe for the trust seal while I was asleep?”

Chloe’s expression froze for a fraction of a second before twisting into a hurt pucker. “Cecilia! How can you say that to your own sister? Julian’s investment firm is facing a liquidity crisis today! If you don’t transfer the five million dollars, his reputation will be ruined! Dad left that money for both of us to share!”

“Dad left every cent of the Smith Enterprise stock to me because your mother was nothing more than a home-wrecking mistress,” Cecilia said coldly, taking a slow step forward.

Chloe gasped, her face flushing crimson. “You—!”

Before Chloe could finish her sentence, Cecilia moved.

With the lightning speed of a woman who had survived three years in an apocalyptic wasteland, Cecilia closed the distance, grabbed Chloe by her hair, and yanked her downward.

SLAP!

The sharp sound of flesh striking flesh echoed through the penthouse. Chloe screamed as she was thrown onto the hard marble floor, her purse spilling open, scattering her lipstick, compact mirror, and Cecilia’s stolen vault keycard across the tiles.

“Ah! My face!” Chloe shrieked, clutching her burning, swollen cheek, tears instantly welling up in her eyes. “Are you crazy, Cecilia?! I’m telling Julian! I’m telling the family!”

Cecilia leaned down, her shadow falling over Chloe like a suffocating blanket. She pinched Chloe’s chin between her thumb and forefinger, squeezing until the half-sister’s jaw bones groaned under the pressure.

“Listen to me very carefully, Chloe,” Cecilia whispered, her eyes burning with pure malice. “If you ever use a keycard to enter my property again, I won't just slap you. I’ll break your legs and throw you into the street like the trash you are.”

Chloe quivered, a cold chill running down her spine. The sister standing before her wasn't the gullible, gentle Cecilia she had manipulated for years. This woman felt like a demon freshly escaped from hell.

“G-Get off me!” Chloe whimpered, twisting away in sheer terror.

Cecilia released her chin like she had touched something filthy. She kicked Chloe’s spilled purse toward the open door. “Get out.”

Chloe scrambled to her feet, sobbing in terror, grabbed her belongings, and fled down the hallway as fast as her high heels could carry her.

BEEP.

As the penthouse door slammed shut, the translucent interface of the Doomsday Hoarding System hovered before Cecilia’s eyes:

HOSTILE TARGET NEUTRALIZED: CHLOE SMITH

REWARD: SYSTEM HOARDING MULTIPLIER UNLOCKED!

POCKET DIMENSION STATUS: ACTIVE, TIME-STASIS ON

Cecilia walked over to her dining table, where a freshly brewed cup of black coffee was steaming. She focused her mind on the cup and willed it into her spatial dimension.

SWOOSH.

The coffee cup vanished instantly from the wooden table. A split second later, Cecilia willed it back out.

The cup reappeared in her hand, the black liquid still boiling at the exact same temperature, the steam swirling in the air as if time hadn't passed for a single microsecond.

“Infinite space... absolute time-stasis,” Cecilia murmured, a razor-sharp smile spreading across her face. “In the apocalypse, hot food and clean medicine are more valuable than gold.”

She sat down at her computer, logged into her encrypted banking accounts, and initiated a total asset liquidation.

She revoked all proxy permissions given to Julian Lambert, froze all joint credit lines, and transferred every single cent—all five point two billion dollars—into a private, single-signature vault account under her direct control.

Ten minutes later, her phone began to ring. It was Julian.

Cecilia answered and put it on speaker.

“CECILIA! ARE YOU INSANE?!” Julian’s enraged roar shattered the room. “My bank manager just called me! My corporate credit card was declined! Why did you revoke my access to the trust fund?! And what did you do to Chloe?! She’s sobbing hysterically in my car!”

Cecilia swirled a glass of iced water in her hand, taking a deliberate, elegant sip.

“Julian,” she said coolly. “The money is mine. My mother earned it. Why should I give a single cent to a parasite?”

“Parasite?!” Julian sounded like he was hyperventilating. “We are getting married in three months! My company’s survival depends on that money today! If you don't unfreeze those accounts right now, I’ll cancel the wedding!”

Cecilia let out a low, dark laugh that made Julian’s skin crawl over the line.

“Cancel it then,” she said. “In fact, let’s make it official right now. We’re done, Julian. Don’t ever call me again.”

“Wait—Cecilia! You can’t do this—”

CLICK.

Cecilia hung up, blocked his number, and tossed the phone onto the couch.

She opened an encrypted communications portal and dialed a private number—a top-tier international logistics broker based in the harbor district of Solaria City.

“Solaria Supply & Logistics, state your business,” a professional voice answered.

“My name is Cecilia Smith,” she said, her tone authoritative and sharp. “I want to lease your three largest underground cold-storage warehouses in Sector 4 for the next month. I’m paying ten times the market rate upfront.”

The broker paused. “Sector 4? Those are subterranean vaults, miss. They can hold over two hundred thousand tons of goods.”

“I know,” Cecilia replied, opening her master purchasing ledger. “And I intend to fill every cubic inch of them. Send me the contract. I’m wiring twenty million dollars right now.”

Over the next three hours, Cecilia went on a massive purchasing spree:

 50,000 tons of premium white rice, flour, and grain.

30,000 tons of frozen beef, pork, and poultry.

10,000 barrels of cooking oil, salt, and sugar.

5,000,000 boxes of self-heating instant hotpots, canned stews, and emergency rations.

100,000 cases of chocolates, energy bars, and high-end wines.

Food was just the beginning. She needed heavy insulation, arctic generators, fuel, and an impenetrable shelter.

She picked up her phone to contact the nation's premier defense contractor—Thorne Defense Group.

Before she could dial, the penthouse door was kicked open with a deafening crash!

BOOM!

Three tall men in black jackets and ski masks burst into the living room, heavy iron pipes and suppressed handguns in their hands!

“Cecilia Smith!” the lead thug barked, stepping forward. “Mr. Lambert sent us to sign some papers with you!”