Chapter 7

Ray waited for a while before Noel Jardin finally showed up.

They exchanged a few polite words, but Noel couldn't hold back for long. He stood up and began inspecting the house.

He hadn't brought much—just a measuring pen—and only took some rough notes. Since they hadn't discussed price yet, he wasn't about to take it too seriously.

The villa had three floors above ground and one basement level—about six hundred square meters in total—with a courtyard outside. The courtyard didn't need any work, though.

After walking through the place, Noel returned to the living room and sat down across from Ray.

"If you want this done in two months," he said, "that's cutting it close. Labor will be expensive. I'll have to keep people working in shifts, around the clock."

Ray smiled faintly. "Name your price."

"Eight million."

Even Noel looked a little embarrassed as he said it. The villa itself was barely worth one million, and here he was quoting eight million just for renovations.

Only an idiot would agree to that. But given the rush, it wasn't unreasonable. He wasn't overcharging—just being realistic.

Ray didn't respond immediately.

Noel hurried to add, "I'm not trying to rip you off. It's just the schedule—you want it fast, and that means high costs. I still need to make a little profit. If you think it's too much, we could stretch the timeline. Say, six months—I could cut it down by one million."

That was still way more than the house was worth.

But Ray simply raised his hand. "It's not the price I'm worried about. I just want to know—will eight million be enough to meet my requirements?"

"Of course," Noel said, thumping his chest confidently. "I've been in renovations for years. I know what I'm doing. Six hundred square meters—eight million comes to about fourteen thousand per square. It's plenty."

Ray nodded. "Good. Let's sign the contract."

"What, just like that?" Noel blinked, surprised.

He'd never seen a client like this—no haggling, no complaints. Just… decisive. The word that came to mind was loaded.

Ray smiled. "What I need is quality work. As long as you deliver what I asked for, we'll have no problem."

"Don't worry," Noel said, brimming with confidence. "I'll make sure everything's perfect."

"Good. Let's sign. But let me be clear—if the finished product doesn't pass inspection, I won't be so easygoing. I'll use the entire eight million to sue you."

"No problem," Noel said quickly. "By the way, I'll need to see the property deed—original and a copy."

Ray shook his head. "I just bought the house today. The deed hasn't been issued yet. But that's fine—I can give you a half a million dollars deposit now. Start working on the renovation plan. When you've used that up, I'll send more. If for any reason I cause delays, you'll still get the full eight million."

Noel stared at Ray like he was some kind of alien. "You rich people really are something else."

…

When Noel left, he was grinning ear to ear. An eight-million-dollar project meant he could pocket six figures, easy.

Ray, though, wasn't the least bit distressed about the expense.

His stock investments might not return ten percent every day, but five percent was practically guaranteed. In two months, the 35 million he'd poured in would grow to 300 million—or even more.

But whether it became 300 or 500 million didn't matter much to him.

All the resources he'd stock up should last him several lifetimes. Within three months, the apocalypse would dawn upon them, and money would be worthless.

He had a total of 39.8 million. He'd put 35 million into the market, spent 0.1 million on the house, and half a million on the renovation deposit. That left 4.2 million. Of that, 1.1 million would soon go toward the remaining payment on the villa.

He still owed another 7.5 million for the renovation, but with two months to go, he had plenty of time to pull funds out of the market as needed. No rush.

Moving quickly, Ray went to see a real estate agent again—but this time, not to buy. He needed to rent a place.

The villa would be under renovation for two months, and living in a hotel the whole time wasn't an option. Not because he couldn't afford it, but because hotels were a pain when it came to receiving deliveries.

And Ray planned to order a lot of things online.

He also intended to rent a warehouse.

Just as he stepped outside, his phone rang. It was a call from his company—his direct supervisor, Bobby Greene.

He answered lazily. "Hello."

"Ray! What, are you dying of cancer or something? Get your ass back to work! If you don't show up today, don't bother coming in ever again!"

"Okay," Ray said calmly. "Then I quit."

He hung up. He'd be far too busy soon to bother with work. Pretending to care about office politics was a luxury he couldn't afford.

The end of the world was coming—what was there left to pretend for?

When he arrived back at the real estate office, the same male agent who'd handled his villa deal practically sprinted over. "Hi! Something wrong with the house?"

"I want to rent an apartment," Ray said.

"Huh?" The agent blinked. "Didn't you just buy a villa? You've got the keys already—it's ready to move in. Why rent?"

Ray smiled. "I'm having it renovated. You got anything big, clean, and newly decorated?"

Ah, that made sense. A guy who'd spent 1.2 million on a villa wasn't about to live in someone else's old design.

"No problem," the agent said eagerly. "I've got a few great listings. I'll show you right now."

"It needs to be in Mallory Avenue," Ray added.

"Got it."

Two hours later, they had a deal. A two-month lease, 1.2 thousand a month. Pricey, sure—but the place was spacious, spotless, and luxuriously furnished.

Fully furnished, too. All Ray needed was bedding.

Good. Another item checked off the list.

There were still so many things to buy, but most of his funds were tied up in stocks, nowhere near the tenfold target yet. For now, he could only make small purchases.

He started making a list, item by item, of everything he'd need to prepare. Some supplies required long lead times, so he'd have to order early.

As he was halfway through the list, his phone rang again.

He glanced at the screen. The caller ID said Honey.

He'd forgotten to change that.

Ray picked up anyway. The punishment he had planned for the Gantt family had only just begun—how could he miss a call from Lauren?

"Hello."