My 90-Day Survival Manual: I Prepared for Doomsday, Not For

POV: Alessia Rowan

I woke up gasping for air, my hands immediately flying to my neck.

 The feeling of sharp teeth tearing into my flesh was so real that I could almost feel the blood running down my skin. I could still smell its metallic scent, feel the cold rain on my face, and hear the infected tearing through the streets of Blackridge City. The sound of bones cracking between their teeth still haunted me. But what I remembered most was the laughter—the cold, cruel laughter of the people I had trusted with my life as they watched me struggle before shoving me straight into the waiting swarm.

I blinked, my chest heaving, waiting for the agony of being eaten alive to consume me.

Instead, I met a soft ceiling fan spinning silently above me. Clean white linen sheet covered my body. The faint, sweet smell of lavender oil hung in the air.

No blood. No rot. No screams.

I sat up, my heart beating so hard against my ribs I thought it might burst. My hands were shaking uncontrollably as I brought them to my face. My skin was smooth. No bites. No deep, open gouges from fingernails and claws.

I turned my head slowly to the right.

Gideon was sleeping peacefully beside me. His dark hair was messy against the pillow, his face soft and completely relaxed, breathing in steady, quiet rhythms. He looked innocent. He looked like the man who had promised to love and protect me forever when we were younger.

My eyes drifted down to his hand resting on the duvet.

His ring finger was completely bare.

My stomach dropped into a cold, bottomless pit. My mother’s heirloom ring—the silver band with the small blue sapphire that she gave me on her deathbed, the ring I had trusted Gideon to hold as a symbol of our future—was gone from his hand. I remembered now. In my past life, he had sold it three weeks before the outbreak broke out, claiming he needed cash for an emergency investment. Later, I found out he had bought a diamond necklace for my younger sister, Nessa.

My mind spun. Was I dreaming? Was this some cruel trick played by my dying brain while the monsters tore my flesh apart in the gutter?

Slowly, without making a sound, I reached over to the nightstand and grabbed my phone. The glass was cool against my trembling fingertips. I tapped the screen.

June 12, 06:00 AM

Ninety days.

Exactly ninety days before the unknown virus leaked from the deep underground research facilities, turning ninety percent of the population into bloodthirsty corpses within forty-eight hours and collapsing society into a lawless wasteland.

Ninety days before the world fell into a living hell.

I hadn't just dreamed my death. I had come back. I had been reborn, pushed back three months before the end of the world.

A soft chime vibrated from the phone in my palm, breaking through the silence of the room. It was a push notification from my banking application.

I unlocked the phone using my thumbprint and opened the message.

Notice: A wire transfer of $15,000 has been successfully processed from your Primary Savings Account to Credit Account ending in 4092.

Account 4092 was Nessa’s personal credit line.

Right below the notification was the authorization log: Authorized via Secondary Account Executive: Gideon Foster.

I stared at the numbers on the screen. $15,000.

In my past life, this was the exact morning my life started falling apart. Gideon had drained my savings bit by bit under the guise of helping my sister clear her debt, while secretly funding their lavish private meetings, leaving me with almost nothing when the apocalypse hit. Back then, when I saw this transfer, I had panicked. I had woken Gideon up, crying and asking why he took the money without telling me. He had gaslit me, yelled at me for being stingy, accused me of hating my own family, and made me feel like the worst person in the world until I apologized and let him keep doing it.

I looked at Gideon’s quiet, sleeping face.

The weakness that had controlled my past life died right then and there. A cold, sharp clarity washed over me, freezing the tears before they could even form in my eyes.

I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I didn't wake him up.

Carefully lifting the blanket, I slid out of bed. My bare feet hit the polished hardwood floor silently. I walked over to my work desk in the corner of the large bedroom, opened my encrypted laptop, and powered it on. The bright glow illuminated the dark room.

I logged into my family trust portal—the multi-million dollar estate left behind by my late father, which I had foolishly granted Gideon partial management rights over when we moved in together.

My fingers flew across the keyboard smoothly, without a single hesitation.

Step 1: Revoke Secondary Executive Power of Attorney.

Step 2: Terminate Joint Access to Primary and Secondary Liquid Accounts.

Step 3: Freeze All Linked Corporate Credit Cards Issued to Gideon Foster.

Step 4: Cancel Authorized Wire Transfers Pending Processing.

My bank manager’s direct emergency line popped up on the screen, asking for a secondary security password to confirm the immediate removal of a legal power of attorney. I typed in the code, hit confirm, and watched the status bar sweep across the screen.

Processing security override...

Status: Access Revoked. All financial privileges for Gideon Foster have been permanently terminated.

I closed the laptop cover with a quiet click.

Right at that exact second, the smartphone sitting on the nightstand beside Gideon began to vibrate violently.

The loud vibration rattled against the wood. Gideon stirred, groaning softly as he shifted under the blanket. He reached out blindly, his hand fumbling across the table before his fingers wrapped around the device.

"What the..." he muttered, his voice thick with sleep. He squinted at the screen, pulling the phone closer to his face.

Another alert chimed. Then another.

ALERT: Your access to Account 8812 has been revoked by the primary owner.

ALERT: Card ending in 0041 has been declined and permanently deactivated.

ALERT: Power of Attorney status cancelled.

Gideon’s eyes snapped wide open. The sleepy fog in his face instantly dissolved into raw shock, quickly followed by a dark, ugly frustration.

He bolted upright in bed, the blanket falling to his waist. He stared down at his phone, his thumb tapping the screen frantically as if trying to force the notifications to disappear.

"What is this?" he hissed, his voice rising sharply. "What is going on with the bank?"

He looked up from his screen, his gaze searching the dimly lit room until his eyes landed on me sitting quietly at my desk, watching him with calm, distant eyes.

"Alessia?" Gideon demanded, throwing the blanket aside and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "Did you touch the accounts? Why am I getting security alerts saying my cards are declined? Did the bank lock us out by mistake?"

I didn't move. I sat with my hands resting loosely in my lap, looking at him as if he were a complete stranger.

"No mistake, Gideon," I said, my voice steady, smooth, and colder than ice.

He blinked, taken aback by the total lack of panic or warmth in my tone. Usually, if he raised his voice even a little, I would immediately jump to soften the mood. Now, I was just staring at him like he was a bug under a glass.

"What do you mean, no mistake?" Gideon snapped, standing up from the bed and taking two long strides toward me. "I just tried to clear a transaction for Nessa’s emergency card, and the whole system shut me down! It says my power of attorney was revoked! Did you do this?"

"I did," I replied plainly.

Gideon stopped in his tracks, his jaw dropping in disbelief. His face flushed red with instant anger. "Are you out of your mind, Alessia? Nessa needed that money today! She’s under a lot of pressure, and I told you I’d handle her account! Why would you pull a childish stunt like this at six in the morning?"

I slowly leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. The corner of my mouth tugged upward into a faint, distant smile.

"Because your allowance just expired," I said softly.

Gideon stared at me, his eyes widening as if he couldn't comprehend the words coming out of my mouth. "My... what?"

"Your allowance," I repeated, letting every syllable sink into the silence between us. "You don't own my father's money. You don't own my trust fund. And as of one minute ago, you don't have access to a single cent of my family's wealth again."

"Alessia, what the hell is wrong with you?" Gideon roared, taking another aggressive step closer, pointing his phone directly at my face. "We are partners! I am trying to manage our family affairs, and you’re treating me like some thief? You need to log back into that computer right now and undo this!"

"Partners?" I let out a low, bitter laugh that made Gideon flinch. "Husbands don't steal $15,000 from their wives personal account while they're sleeping to give it to their sister. Husbands don't wear a bare finger after selling their wife's mother's ring."

Gideon’s face instantly drained of color. His hand reflexively jerked down, hiding his left hand behind his back. "How... how did you..."

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice?" I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm. "Pack your things, Gideon."

"What?" Gideon stammered, completely rattled now. The anger in his posture vanished, replaced by a sudden, desperate panic. "Alessia, wait—calm down! You're making a huge mistake! We can talk about this! Nessa really needed that money for her business debt, I was going to tell you today, I swear—"

"Pack your things," I repeated, pointing a single finger toward the doorway. "You have twenty minutes to take your clothes and leave my house. If you are still inside this estate by six-twenty, I am calling security and having you removed for trespassing."

"You can't do this to me!" Gideon yelled, his voice cracking with rage and humiliation. "I gave up my life to be in this marriage with you! You can't just throw me out like a dog over a misunderstanding!"

"Watch me," I said quietly, turning back to my laptop screen and completely ignoring his presence.

Gideon stood there shivering with rage, his fists clenched tight at his sides. He opened his mouth to shout again, but seeing the total, unyielding frost in my eyes, he realized something fundamental had changed. The weak, impressionable girl he had manipulated for years was gone.

With a harsh curse, he spun around and slammed the bedroom door behind him so hard the walls vibrated.

I didn't waste a single breath worrying about his anger. I had ninety days.

Ninety days to prepare for the end of humanity. Ninety days to buy food, weapons, medical supplies, clean water systems, reinforced vehicles, and turn this estate into an impenetrable fortress.

This time, I was not going to be the victim. This time, I was going to survive.