02

The phone rang again before she made it to the end of the driveway. She did not need to look at the screen to know who it was. Derek had never been able to let anything go, not a perceived insult, not an argument, not the feeling that he was right and everyone else was wrong.

She answered on the fourth ring. "You can not just say something like that and hang up on me." His voice was tight, controlled, the way he got when he was trying to pretend he was not angry. "A divorce? After everything I have done for you? After everything my family has done for you?"

She kept walking. The neighbourhood was quiet this early in the morning, just a few people out walking their dogs, a couple of cars pulling out of driveways. Normal people living normal lives, unaware that in forty days, everything they knew would start to fall apart.

"You have done nothing for me," she said. "I paid for the house, paid for the car, paid for your mother's medical bills and your sister's tuition. I have done everything for you."

"You are being dramatic." He laughed, but there was no humour in it. "Where are you going to go, Emma? You have no family. No friends who will take you in. Do you think you can survive on your own out there?"

In her previous life, those words would have terrified her. She had no family, that was true. Her parents had died when she was young, and she had no siblings, no cousins, no one to turn to. She had built her entire life around Derek and his family because she had thought they were her family now. She had thought she belonged somewhere.

She had been wrong. "I will manage," she said.

"The child is crying for you." His voice softened, trying a different tactic. "He has been asking for his mother all morning. You would really abandon him?"

She stopped walking. Her chest tightened because despite everything, despite knowing the truth, she still loved that little boy. She had raised him from the day he was born. She had held him through fevers and nightmares. She had sung him to sleep and kissed his scraped knees and taught him his first words.

But he was not hers. He never had been.

"He is not my son," she said quietly. "He is Rachel's son. You and she have been lying to me for three years, and I am done pretending I do not know."

The silence on the other end of the line stretched so long that she wondered if he had hung up. Then he spoke, and his voice was strange, almost cautious. "What are you talking about?"

"Do not insult me by denying it. I know everything. I know about the affair. I know about the child. I know that you have been planning to leave me as soon as you find someone better." She started walking again, her footsteps steady on the pavement. "Sign the divorce papers, Derek. It will be easier for both of us."

"You are insane." His voice rose, cracking at the edges. "You have lost your mind. There is no affair. Daniel is our son. You are just jealous because Rachel is younger and prettier, and everyone likes her better than you."

She almost laughed. "Get yourself a lawyer so that the process will be fast."

"You will regret this." He was shouting now, and she could picture him pacing the bedroom, his face red, his hands balled into fists. "You will come crawling back to me, begging for forgiveness, and I will not take you back. Do you hear me? I will not take you back!"

She hung up. The phone rang again immediately. She turned it off and slipped it into her pocket. The silence that followed felt like a gift.

She walked for another twenty minutes, letting her feet carry her through streets she had known for years. She passed the grocery store where she used to shop, the park where she used to take Daniel to play, the coffee shop where Derek and she had had their first date. All of it looked different now, smaller and duller, like a set that had been struck after the play was over.

She ended up at a bus stop near the edge of the neighbourhood, sitting on a bench that faced a small patch of grass. The sun was fully up now, warming the air, and she could feel the heat building, not the killing heat of the apocalypse, but the ordinary heat of a summer morning. It would get worse. She knew exactly how much worse it would get.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out, expecting another call from Derek, but the screen showed a different number. An unfamiliar area code, she almost ignored it, but something made her answer.

"Hello?"

"Am I speaking with Miss Emma?" The voice on the other end was male, professional, with the careful neutrality of someone who dealt with distraught people on a regular basis. "My name is Attorney Chen from Chen and Associates. I have been trying to reach you regarding the estate of your grandmother, June Johnson."

She frowned. "My grandmother died fifteen years ago."

"Yes, that is correct. However, her estate has been in probate for some time due to a legal dispute with a distant relative. That dispute was recently resolved, and you are the sole remaining beneficiary."

She gripped the phone tighter. "I do not understand. My grandmother had nothing. She lived in a small apartment and worked in a factory her whole life."

"Your grandmother owned a piece of land in the old city district. The land was considered worthless for many years, but recent development has made it extremely valuable. The property was recently sold to a developer, and the proceeds are being held in trust for you."

Her heart was pounding. "How much?"

Attorney Chen hesitated, and she could hear him flipping through papers. "After all fees and taxes, the amount comes to approximately twelve million dollars."

The world tilted. She gripped the edge of the bench with her free hand, trying to steady herself. Twelve million dollars. In her previous life, she had never received this money. She had never even known it existed. Her grandmother's estate must have still been tied up in legal disputes when the apocalypse hit, lost forever in the chaos.

But now, she had it. "Miss Smith? Are you still there?"

"Yes." Her voice came out hoarse. "Yes, I am here."

"If you would like to come to our office to sign the necessary paperwork, we can arrange for the funds to be transferred to your account within a few business days."

"I will be there this afternoon." She hung up and sat on the bench, staring at the grass without seeing it. Twelve million dollars, enough to buy a house, a real house, with thick walls and a basement and space for everything she would need. Enough to install a solar power system and a water filtration system and an air conditioning unit that could run for weeks without stopping. Enough to survive.

In her previous life, she would have given this money to Derek. She would have handed it over without a second thought because that was what she did. She gave and gave and gave until there was nothing left of her, and they took it all and threw her away like garbage.

This time, she was keeping it.

She stood up and started walking toward the main road, where she could catch a bus to the attorney's office. Her mind was already racing ahead, planning, calculating. She needed to find a house, something isolated and defensible. She needed to stock supplies, enough food and water to last months, maybe years. She needed to prepare for the heat, the power outages, and the chaos that would follow, and she needed to do it all in forty days.

The bus arrived, and she climbed on, paying the fare with hands that were still trembling slightly. She found a seat near the window and watched the city pass by, all these people going about their lives, unaware of what was coming. She wondered how many of them would survive. She wondered how many of them would turn on each other when the food ran out and the water stopped flowing.

She wondered if she would see Derek and his family again after the heat came. She wondered if they would come looking for her when they realized she was not coming back.

The bus stopped near the attorney's office, and she stepped off onto the sidewalk. It was a nice building, glass and steel, with a doorman and a marble lobby. The kind of place that handled important matters for important people. She walked inside like she belonged there because she did. She was a millionaire now. She was the sole beneficiary of a fortune she never knew she had, and she was going to use it to build a fortress.

Attorney Chen was waiting for her in a conference room on the tenth floor. He was younger than she had expected, maybe mid-thirties, with wire-rimmed glasses and a neat grey suit. He stood when she entered and gestured for her to sit.

"Miss Smith, thank you for coming so quickly. I understand this must be a surprise."

"You could say that." She sat down and folded her hands on the table. "Tell me everything."

He explained the situation in detail. The land, the lawsuit, the sale, the trust. She listened carefully, asking questions when she did not understand something, making him repeat numbers and dates until she was certain she had it all straight. By the time he slid the paperwork across the table for her to sign, she felt almost calm.

"One more thing," she said, picking up the pen. "I need to change the account information. The money should go into a new account, one that only I have access to."

Attorney Chen nodded. "Of course. We can arrange that."

She signed the papers. Her signature was steady, her hands nolonger shaking. When she finished, she stood up and shook his hand.

"Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me."

He smiled politely. "I am just doing my job, Miss Smith. Do you have any other questions?"

"Actually, yes." She paused at the door. "Do you know anything about buying property? I am looking for something specific."

"What kind of property?"

"A house. Something isolated, with thick walls and a basement. Preferably near a water source, and I need to close the deal quickly. Very quickly."

Attorney Chen's eyebrows rose slightly, but he did not question her. "I can recommend a real estate agent who specializes in rural properties. She is very discreet and very efficient."

"Perfect. Give me her number."

He wrote it down on a business card and handed it to her. She tucked it into her pocket and walked out of the office, into the bright morning sunlight, into a world that had no idea it was about to end.

Thirty-nine days left.

She pulled out her phone and turned it back on. There were seventeen missed calls from Derek and a string of text messages from his mother, each one more furious than the last. She deleted them all without reading them.

Then, she called the real estate agent. "Hello, this is Emma Smith. I am looking for a house."