CHAPTER 1 — THE MAN WHO LEFT ME TO DIE

On the thirty-seventh day of the apocalypse, Nora Vale's husband killed her for six cans of food.

She just didn't know it yet.

Nora crouched behind an overturned checkout counter, one hand pressed against her stomach.

Hunger cramped through her again.

She bit down on her sleeve before the sound could escape.

Footsteps scraped through the darkness.

Someone was searching the supermarket.

“Check the registers.”

“I already did.”

“Then check again.”

Two men.

Maybe three.

Nora tightened her arms around the cardboard box she'd found beneath a collapsed shelf.

Six cans of beans.

Two packets of crackers.

One bottle of water.

Three months ago, she would have walked past all of it without looking twice.

Now people are murdered for less.

The footsteps came closer.

Nora glanced toward the shattered entrance.

Twenty meters.

If her leg weren't injured, she could make it easily.

But blood had soaked through the makeshift bandage around her thigh.

She had one chance.

A shelf crashed at the opposite end of the store.

The men cursed.

Nora moved.

She crawled from behind the counter, forced herself upright and ran.

Pain tore through her thigh.

She nearly fell.

Ten meters.

Five.

Then sunlight hit her face.

Nora stumbled through the broken doors and froze.

An armored vehicle stood across the street.

Its engine was running.

Someone was loading a case of bottled water into the back.

Nora's heart stopped.

“Ethan?”

The man turned.

Tall.

Clean coat.

An expensive watch still on his wrist.

Her husband.

For thirty-seven days, Nora had imagined this moment.

Ethan finds her.

Ethan wrapping his arms around her.

Ethan said he was sorry they'd been separated when the evacuation failed.

Relief nearly knocked her to her knees.

“Ethan!”

She limped into the street.

He stared at her.

Not relieved.

Annoyed.

Nora slowed.

Then a woman leaned out through the open vehicle door.

“Ethan, what is it?”

Nora knew that voice.

Clara Hayes.

Ethan's childhood sweetheart.

The woman he'd told Nora not to worry about.

Clara's face was clean.

So were her clothes.

More importantly, she wasn't thin.

Nora stared past her.

Ethan's mother sat inside.

His younger brother sat beside her.

Behind them were boxes.

Rice.

Medicine.

Bottled water.

Canned food.

Fuel canisters.

There were so many supplies that for a moment Nora couldn't understand what she was seeing.

Then she recognized one of the boxes.

VALE MEDICAL DISTRIBUTION.

Her uncle's company.

Nora's blood went cold.

Months before the outbreak, Ethan had asked her to arrange a bulk medical order for one of his company's “remote construction projects.”

Then there was the warehouse.

The unexplained withdrawals from their joint account.

His mother's sudden interest in water purification equipment.

The generators Ethan had bought using one of Nora's supplier contacts.

One memory after another clicked into place.

“No,” Nora whispered.

Ethan's jaw tightened.

“You knew.”

“Nora, this isn't the time.”

“You knew something was coming.”

She looked at the supplies again.

“My money paid for this.”

Clara's expression flickered.

That was enough.

Nora felt something inside her crack.

“You were preparing before the outbreak.”

Ethan said nothing.

“You built a shelter.”

Still nothing.

“And you never planned to take me.”

“Nora.” His voice turned cold. “Lower your voice.”

She almost laughed.

Thirty-seven days without electricity.

Thirty-seven days drinking filthy water.

Thirty-seven days sleeping with a knife in her hand.

And Ethan still thought she was the wife who would become quiet when he ordered her to.

Behind Nora, glass shattered inside the supermarket.

The scavengers.

She looked back.

Then at Ethan.

Whatever remained of her pride died beneath the simple, animal need to survive.

“Open the door.”

Ethan didn't move.

“Please.”

“Nora—”

“I haven't eaten in two days.”

Her voice broke.

“I can work. I won't take much. Just let me in.”

Ethan's gaze dropped.

Not to her wounded leg.

To the box in her arms.

“What did you find?”

Nora instinctively tightened her grip.

His face hardened.

“Nora.”

Six cans.

Her husband had a vehicle filled with supplies, and he was looking at her six cans.

She understood too late.

Ethan stepped forward.

He grabbed the box.

“No!”

Nora held on.

He pulled harder.

She slipped on her injured leg and hit the pavement.

The box tore from her hands.

Ethan opened it.

Clara exhaled when she saw the food.

“You have plenty,” Nora whispered.

“No,” Ethan said. “We have what we need if we're careful.”

“We?”

His eyes met hers.

There was no shame in them.

“There's no room for you.”

Nora looked into the vehicle.

There was an empty seat beside the supplies.

“You're lying.”

Ethan's mother turned away.

Clara didn't.

For the first time, Nora saw triumph beneath her carefully frightened expression.

“We have to go,” Clara said softly.

Ethan climbed into the vehicle.

Nora forced herself up.

“Ethan.”

He reached for the door.

Three years.

She had supported him when his first company nearly collapsed.

She had called investors for him.

Lent him money.

Defend him when her friends told her he'd changed.

She had spent three years making excuses for a man who had spent those same years deciding she was disposable.

“Ethan!”

The door started closing.

Nora lunged.

Her hand caught the frame.

“Get your hand out.”

“Let me inside.”

“Nora.”

“LET ME INSIDE!”

Something finally broke through Ethan's calm expression.

Not guilt.

Fear.

The men inside the supermarket were coming.

He looked past her.

Then shoved.

Hard.

Nora fell backward.

The vehicle door slammed.

“Ethan!”

The engine roared.

Nora crawled after it.

The armored vehicle pulled away.

She struck the road with both hands.

“ETHAN!”

He never looked back.

A shadow fell over her.

Nora went still.

One of the scavengers stood behind her.

His eyes followed the disappearing vehicle before settling on her.

Then the blood soaking through her trousers.

“Where's the food?”

Nora laughed.

A terrible, exhausted sound.

“My husband took it.”

The man raised an iron bar.

Nora closed her eyes.

If she had another chance—

No.

She didn't want another marriage.

Another apology.

Another promise.

She wanted thirty days.

Thirty days to take back every dollar.

Thirty days to buy everything she'd once begged for.

Thirty days to make sure that when Ethan Cross finally became hungry, she was the last person in the world he could turn to.

The iron bar fell.

Darkness swallowed her.

* * *

Nora opened her eyes.

Cold air brushed across her face.

She stared at a white ceiling.

No pain.

No blood.

No smell of smoke.

A soft electronic chime sounded beside her.

Nora sat up so violently her vision spun.

Her bedroom.

She knew the gray curtains.

The cream-colored wardrobe.

Ethan's side of the bed was empty.

Her heart hammered.

“No…”

Nora grabbed her thigh.

No wound.

She touched her head.

Nothing.

Her phone lay on the nightstand.

She snatched it up.

The screen lit.

June 3.

7:12 a.m.

Nora stopped breathing.

June 3.

She knew that date.

The first leaked reports would appear on June 28.

On July 1, panic buying would begin.

On July 2, several major cities would lose power.

And on July 3—

everything would collapse.

Exactly thirty days from now.

Nora looked down at her hands.

They were trembling.

She had come back.

Not thirty-seven days.

Not a week.

Thirty days before doomsday.

Her phone vibrated.

ETHAN CROSS.

Dinner at my parents' tonight. 7 PM. Don't be late again.

Nora stared at the message.

In her previous life, she'd gone.

She'd spent three hours cooking food Ethan's mother barely touched.

Then his family had discussed a “new investment project” right in front of her.

The shelter.

Nora hadn't known.

This time she did.

She deleted the message.

Then a sound rang inside her head.

Ding.

A pale blue window appeared in midair.

[Doomsday Survival Space activated.]

Nora froze.

[Host: Nora Vale.]

[Global catastrophe countdown: 30 days.]

[Primary Objective: Survive.]

[Secondary Objective: Build a sanctuary.]

A second message appeared.

[Everything inside the Survival Space belongs exclusively to the host.]

Nora stared at those words.

Exclusively.

Hers.

A strange awareness unfolded in her mind.

She could sense an empty room.

Storage shelves lined its walls.

Beyond it stood a refrigerator, a freezer, a supply of clean water, and a small living area.

Nothing miraculous enough to save the world.

But more than enough to change hers.

Nora looked at the phone in her hand.

A thought surfaced naturally.

Store.

The phone vanished.

Her fingers closed around empty air.

Nora's heartbeat thundered.

She focused again.

Return.

The phone reappeared in her palm.

For several seconds, she simply stared at it.

Then she opened her banking app.

Savings.

Investments.

Joint accounts.

Credit.

Assets.

Money that would become meaningless in thirty days.

In her last life, Ethan had used her resources to prepare his family's survival.

Nora slowly smiled.

He had unknowingly taught her exactly what to buy.

She knew which medicines would vanish first.

Which roads would close.

Which neighborhoods would flood with refugees.

Which fuel stations still had reserves after the grid failed.

She knew where Ethan planned to build his shelter.

And she knew which suppliers he'd relied on.

Future knowledge.

Thirty days.

Money.

And a space no one could take from her.

Ethan had left her to die once.

There would not be a second time.

Nora looked at the countdown floating before her.

[29 days, 23 hours, 47 minutes remaining.]

“Thirty days,” she murmured.

This time, she wouldn't spend them being Ethan Cross's wife.

She would spend them preparing for the end of the world.