Chapter Two

As Vanessa stepped through the main entrance of the residential complex, the sweltering July air hit her like a solid wall. Morning sunlight beat mercilessly against the sidewalk, and heat radiated off the asphalt—a warning of the extreme conditions that would engulf the entire city in just forty days.

People hurried past in light summer clothes, complaining about the unusual humidity. They had no idea what was coming. In less than six weeks, that same sun would overwhelm the power grid and turn the city into a furnace.

Her phone vibrated insistently in her hand. Andrew’s name stood out on the screen.

“Where the hell are you going, Vanessa?” His voice blasted through the earpiece almost immediately. “Have you completely lost your mind? You’re making this much of a scene over a laundry basket and a utility bill?”

Vanessa held the phone away until he finished shouting, then brought it back to her ear. “I’m leaving you, Andrew. I’ll have the divorce papers sent over. All you need to do is sign them.”

She said nothing more. After a brief silence, Andrew seemed to realize his threats weren’t getting the reaction he wanted.

He lowered his voice, though the accusation remained. “Who’s going to pay the utilities? What about Leo’s tutoring fees? He’s only six, and he’s at home crying for his mother. You’re really going to abandon our son because someone asked you to do a few chores?”

“Our son?” Vanessa’s voice was sharp and cold. “Stop lying to yourself, Andrew. Leo isn’t my son. He’s the child you had with Susan during your sordid little affair—with your own sister. Do you honestly think I’m still stupid enough to fall for your family’s pathetic lies?”

“How dare you?” Andrew shouted, his voice thick with anger and disbelief. “You ungrateful, delusional woman! How dare you make up such disgusting lies about me—”

“Divorce?” He gave a sharp, contemptuous laugh. “Take a good look at yourself. Look at your life! Without my family’s support, you’ve got nothing. You’re an orphan. You have no real home, no backup plan, nowhere to go. You honestly think you can survive on your own? You’ll be out on the street begging within a week.”

“I’ll take care of myself.” The pedestrian signal changed, and Vanessa crossed the street with the crowd. She had already wasted several minutes on this call, and she had far too much to do.

Her calm response only seemed to infuriate him further. He drew a harsh breath before speaking again, barely containing his anger. “Take care of yourself? How? Don’t think staying away for a few days will make me come crawling after you! Walk away now, and don’t expect me to keep putting up with you. When you’ve spent every last cent and come begging to be taken back, it won’t be that simple!”

“Save your breath, Andrew,” Vanessa cut in coldly. “I’ll send the divorce papers. Sign them. For both our sakes.”

She ended the call, blocked his number, and muted the rest of his family. With her phone finally silent, she pushed open the door of a café. Cool air washed over her, easing some of the tension in her shoulders.

She needed somewhere quiet to think, and she needed to establish how much money she could access. Leaving the apartment was only the first step. Over the next forty days, she had to find a safe place to live, stockpile food and drinking water, and secure power and cooling for when the disaster struck.

As her phone automatically connected to the café’s Wi-Fi, a high-priority email notification appeared. It was a formal notice from the law firm handling her family’s estate—the message she had been waiting for.

Vanessa recognized the sender and immediately opened the email and its encrypted attachment.

Dear Ms. Vanessa,

Following the completion of the international legal proceedings and probate process, the estate’s liquidated assets total US$50 million. All required procedures have been completed. Please confirm the final disbursement arrangements…

She read the passage again, her eyes lingering on the familiar figure. Fifty million dollars. Just as it had been in her previous life. This time, however, she didn’t rush to authorize the transfer. Instead, she called the estate attorney.

In her previous life, the moment Andrew learned about the inheritance, he had persuaded her to move it into an account he controlled. He claimed he knew more about investing and promised to plan their future together. Vanessa had believed him. Instead, Susan kept coming home with designer shopping bags, Veronica bought herself a luxury car, and every household expense came out of that money. When Vanessa finally asked how much remained, Andrew accused her of distrusting her husband and begrudging his family every cent.

The call connected quickly. Vanessa tightened her grip on the phone, her voice clear and firm. “Please hold the transfer. I need to amend the disbursement terms. I’m getting divorced, and the money must not be released into my personal account until my ex-husband has signed the divorce agreement.”

The revised documents arrived shortly afterward. She read the relevant clauses carefully, confirming that the inheritance would only be disbursed after Andrew signed the divorce agreement. Then she signed her name and returned the documents to the attorney.

Vanessa leaned back and slowly exhaled. Once Andrew signed, she would have fifty million dollars—more than enough to live independently. She looked at her bank account. This time, the money would stay under her control and fund her survival through the apocalypse. Next, she needed somewhere safe to live.

As she opened a real estate app, she remembered a villa on a ridge that she had seen in her previous life. After the disaster, prolonged blackouts and extreme heat had made many homes in the city uninhabitable. Yet that house, surrounded by thick walls, had remained intact. Up until her death, it had shown no visible signs of significant damage.

She narrowed the search from memory and soon recognized the two-story villa in the listing photos. The spacious yard, detached garage, and basement large enough to hold supplies were just as she remembered. The property was still for sale. Without hesitating, she called the number on the listing.

“Hello. I’d like to view the villa on the ridge,” she said, scrolling through the photos. “Would this afternoon work? If the property is in good condition, I’d like to buy it and close as quickly as possible.”

“We can arrange that, although another buyer has already expressed interest.” The agent confirmed her contact details. “I’ll bring the relevant documents. You’re welcome to bring a professional to inspect the property as well. I’ll send you the exact address and appointment time shortly.”

Vanessa agreed and saved the information the agent sent. Then she opened G****e Maps to check the route from the café. As she zoomed in, the familiar name of the residential complex appeared on the other side of the road.

The villa was directly across from Andrew’s home.