Storage space.

Ivy watched Adrian deal with the two people he'd brought into her life, a trace of contempt flickering across her face.

She'd already pulled the documents from the drawer--the divorce papers and the property sale agreement, both ready to go. In her last life, she'd drafted the exact same papers and, out of some misplaced softness, never used them.

Not this time.

She slid the papers across the table. "Sign. Thumbprint too. Half a million dollars in my account by tomorrow. Not a cent short. Not a second late."

Adrian stared at the number, his fingers trembling slightly. Maya didn't hesitate at all--she snatched the pen from him and shoved it back into his hand. "Sign it! At that price, you have to sign it."

Her voice was practically grinding through her teeth.

Adrian had nowhere left to go. Like a man walking to his own execution, he signed his name, and Maya grabbed his hand and pressed his thumbprint onto the page before he could think twice.

His finger had barely left the paper when that same mechanical voice returned, cutting through the room like a notification from some game she'd never installed.

{Warning! Warning! Adrian Brooks' account balance is insufficient. Payment cannot be completed.}

Ivy didn't react at all. She'd already known.

Adrian spent every weekend at the casino. He was drowning in debt, and this house--the one asset their marriage had ever produced--was the only thing worth mortgaging. They'd assume they could borrow against it and come up with the money somehow.

And Maya would find a way. She always did, through whatever means necessary.

But by the time the paperwork cleared, the virus would already be here. This house, this whole neighborhood, wouldn't be safe anymore.

Which was exactly what Ivy wanted. Everything she and her daughters had suffered in her last life--it was time someone else tasted it too.

She looked at Maya and Jake, giddy with their victory, and swallowed down the urge to smile. She led her daughters back to their room, and the door shut behind them with a bang.

She pulled the girls close again, her voice low but steady. "Aria, Layla, listen to me. From today, you don't have a father anymore. In this family, it's just me, and the two of you. We only have each other now."

Aria blinked, confused. "Mom... is it because Dad doesn't love us?"

Ivy pressed a kiss to her forehead. "No, sweetheart. It's because we deserve better. Some people just aren't good enough to be your father."

Layla nodded, surprisingly firm. "Okay, Mom. I never liked Jake anyway--he's always mean to us. If we don't have a dad anymore, does that mean he won't come around either?"

Ivy laughed despite herself, pulling them both in tighter, something aching in her chest. "That's right. I promise--no one is ever going to hurt you again."

The girls accepted it quickly, the way children do--believe first, question later--already whispering excitedly about the freedom waiting on the other side of this. Ivy hated to cut their daydream short, but there was too much left to do. "Go play next door for a bit, my loves. Mom needs to rest."

Aria, mid-sentence, stopped instantly and took her sister's hand like a little adult, glancing back on her way out. "Okay, Mom. Get some rest."

Once they were gone, Ivy turned to face the empty room. After a long moment, she spoke into the silence. "Tell me what you actually are."

The voice answered after a pause.

[I am the Bloodline Guardian System. I'm here to help you survive the apocalypse--and to keep you from repeating what happened before, Host.]

Her jaw tightened. That ending was still vivid--Aria's scream, Layla's sobbing, the baby going still in her arms. The voice continued.

[The choice is yours. Accept this chance, or let the same fate claim you and your daughters again.]

Ivy let out a slow breath. The hesitation in her eyes gave way to something colder, harder.

"Then help me," she said. Her voice didn't shake.

Ding.

[Host, step one: locate your inherited key and activate the Storage Space. Point it at any object, and it will be stored inside.]

"A key?" she murmured. "I've never seen one..."

[Most inherited keys are bound to a family heirloom. Think of something that belonged to your family.]

She went still. There was something. She crossed the room without hesitation, pulled open the bottom drawer of her dresser, and found a silver pendant inside--the only thing her parents had left her.

"Is it... this?" Her fingers trembled as she lifted it out.

The system didn't answer directly. It only said: [Please establish your Storage Space, Host.]

It worked.

Shock flickered across her face. All this time, she'd believed the house was her inheritance--that it was the house her mother had told her, at the end, to protect. She'd never imagined it was this.

This chance hadn't only come from some god listening in the dark. Her parents, long gone, were still watching over her--the same way she'd throw herself into the fire to protect her own daughters.

[Deposit items worth at least $1,000. Time limit: one hour.]

The system's cold voice cut back in.

Ivy didn't let herself linger in the feeling. She scanned the room--furniture she'd once chosen with love, memories she no longer wanted to keep.

"That bed." She pointed, and it vanished. For one held breath, it felt like she'd erased something far deeper than wood and fabric.

[Item added: $400. Remaining: $600.]

"Original price?" she asked.

[Correct. All items are valued at purchase price.]

A slow smile crossed her face. "Perfect."

She didn't hold back after that. "Chair. Curtains. TV. Rug." One by one, they disappeared, the room emptying out around her, and something inside her loosened along with it--her movements growing quicker, more certain, each vanished object erasing a little more of the past. No hesitation. No regret.

Within minutes, she'd cleared out the entire house--appliances, leftover food from the fridge, everything down to the last item. By the time she finished, the once-grand house looked like a ruin.

Ding.

[Time limit reached. Total value exceeds $50,000. Storage capacity unlocked: 300 cubic meters.]

Ivy rested a hand on her stomach, her voice calm and steady. "What's next?"

[Countdown to the apocalypse: 15 days. This location is not safe. Evacuate and establish a shelter.]