05

THE FIRST DECISION

~SIENNA~

I looked at the large emergency supply website open on my computer, the digital shopping basket amount growing at the bottom of the screen.

‘Freeze-dried meal boxes: $8,400.’

‘Commercial water cleansing system: $3,200.’

‘Medical trauma kits and antibiotics: $4,500.’

‘Off-grid solar generator with extra battery banks: $12,000.’

I stopped typing.

I looked at the number at the bottom of the screen. Over twenty-eight thousand dollars, and I hadn't even looked at cold-weather gear, fuel tanks, defensive tools, or land.

I had thought having forty-eight thousand dollars in my private account gave me a massive head start.

Now, looking at real-world prices, I realized how fast that money would burn.

If I spent everything on supplies right now, I'd have zero runny cash left for real estate, legal fees, or emergency transportation.

Worst of all, I was still living in the apartment Ethan and I rented together.

He knew my schedule. He knew my habits. Legally, we were still married. Anything I bought and brought into this apartment could be claimed, questioned, or shared.

My fingers paused over the keyboard as the harsh reality sank in.

I wasn't free yet.

The memory of the bunker door flashed through my mind, unasked and cold. Ethan's face through the thick glass window. Victoria standing beside him with that fleece blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

‘The math doesn't work, Sienna.’

In my first life, I had believed that marriage meant sharing everything. Shared accounts. Shared decisions. Shared plans.

And when the crisis hit, my shared sacrifices were used to keep me out while everyone else stayed warm. If I built another survival setup while tied to Ethan, I was just constructing my own cage again.

This time, everything I built had to belong exclusively to me.

---

I pulled the leather notebook toward me and flipped to a fresh page.

I wrote in large, bold letters across the top: 60 DAYS.

Underneath, I added: ‘DECEMBER 13 — THE FALL.’

Sixty days sounded like plenty of time when I first woke up. Looking at my to-do list, it felt like seconds.

I drew a thick vertical line down the center of the paper.

On the left, I wrote: ‘MUST DO NOW.’

On the right: ‘CAN WAIT.’

I couldn't afford to waste time on comfort or luxury. I needed absolute survival priorities.

At the very top of the left column, I wrote:

1. DIVORCE ETHAN.

I stared at the ink.

My heart didn't ache. My chest didn't tighten with grief.

I knew what a divorce would trigger. Ethan would be blindsided. Victoria would scream that I was being ungrateful. Ethan would try to manipulate me, crying and promising to change like he did after the affair.

They could complain all they wanted.

I wrote underneath: ‘Do it quietly. Get legal control first.’

I couldn't afford a long, messy courtroom battle while the countdown clock was running. I needed to keep the process as clean and quiet as possible.

Underneath the divorce line, I wrote: ‘2. PROTECT MY ASSETS.’

I thought about my mother's inheritance…the forty-eight thousand dollars currently sitting in my unlinked account.

In my first life, I had handed it over to Victoria like a fool. This time, every single cent needed an assigned purpose.

I began jotting down a checklist:

‘Verify sole ownership on all personal accounts’

‘Audit joint household credit lines.’

‘Gather physical titles for my car and personal documents.’

‘Ensure Ethan has no legal claim to my inheritance.’ I wasn't going to make emotional mistakes. I was going to secure myself properly.

---

3. FIND PRIVATE HOUSING.

This city apartment was a death trap.

When the power grid failed in my first timeline, the high-rise elevators stopped within thirty minutes. The water pressure died by morning, within three days, the stairwells were dark, freezing, and dangerous.

I needed a place away from dense population centers. I didn't need a luxury mansion, I needed ground space.

‘Independent water source.’

‘Defensible perimeter.’

‘Room for fuel storage and power equipment.’

‘Out-of-sight storage.’ I circled the word PRIVATE twice.

4. STOCKPILE ESSENTIALS.

I grouped my procurement list into essential categories instead of random items:

‘Food & Water Filtration’

‘Medical & Trauma’

‘Off-Grid Energy & Fuel’

‘Cold-Weather Thermal Gear’

‘Tools & Physical Security’

The goal wasn't to buy everything today. It was to buy the things that would disappear first when the public finally panicked.

I underlined one rule: ‘BUY BEFORE THE PANIC STARTS.’

By the time the news started reporting supply shortages on November 15, I needed to be completely done shopping.

5. BUILD A SURVIVAL BASE.

A pile of supplies in a rental unit was useless.

If people saw crates being delivered to a suburban apartment, someone would remember it when the stores ran empty.

I needed a secure compound. A place with reinforced entry points, backup energy generation, protected water, and hidden storage.

I wrote one word: COMPOUND.

I didn't have enough money to buy a fully fortified estate right now.

‘I will figure out the funding,’ I thought, setting my jaw. ‘I have to.’

6. TELL NO ONE.

My pen stopped over the page, this rule applied to everyone.

Ethan. Victoria. Friends. Neighbors. Co-workers.

It felt cold, but I remembered the desperate crowds at the bunker doors during the final week.

Information was dangerous. If people knew I had food, they would come for it. If they knew I had predicted the cold, they would demand answers I couldn't give.

‘The less people know, the safer I am.’

A faint, old instinct flashed in my mind, bringing a brief pulse of guilt.

‘What about the innocent people? What about the neighbors down the hall? What about the people who don't know what's coming?’

I remembered my first life. I remembered spending every ounce of my energy trying to organize supply drives, sharing my medicine, and opening my door.

And I remembered where it got me. Sitting in a snowbank outside a locked steel door while my husband drank from my favorite mug.

‘I can't save everyone,’ I thought, locking the guilt away.

I had one life, forty-eight thousand dollars, and sixty days. Survival wasn't about being cruel. It was about knowing your limits.

I looked down at the complete list in my notebook:

SIXTY-DAY SURVIVAL PLAN

1. Divorce Ethan.

2. Protect my assets.

3. Find private property.

4. Stockpile essential supplies.

5. Build a survival base.

6. Tell no one about the apocalypse.

7. Trust must be earned.

I added the seventh rule without hesitation.

I thought of Ethan sleeping down the hall earlier this morning. I thought of his smooth promises.

Never again.

---

I closed the bulk emergency supply tabs on my laptop. I opened a fresh window and typed into the search bar:

‘Discreet family law attorney.…divorce and asset protection.’

A list of local law firms filled the screen.

I went past the big, bright companies and stopped on a small firm that focused on hard arguments about property and quick papers.

I clicked on their consultation portal.

My fingers rested on the keyboard for a second. This was the first action that would ripple into the real world. Once I submitted this form, there was no pretending to be the dutiful wife anymore.

I typed my name: ‘Sienna Vale.’

Reason for inquiry: ‘Immediate divorce consultation and asset protection.’

I hit Submit.

A confirmation box popped up instantly: ‘Thank you for reaching out. A representative from our legal team will contact you within two hours.’

I closed the laptop lid.

The quiet of the apartment felt different now. Less like a cage, more like a starting line.

I looked toward the hallway leading to the bedroom.

Ethan was still at work. He was sitting at his desk right now, assuming I was home folding laundry, worrying about dinner, and waiting for him to come home.

He had no idea his marriage was over, and he had no idea his sixty-day countdown had already begun.

I closed my notebook and locked it inside my desk drawer.

Sixty days.

Seven decisions.

One life to save.

And this time, that life was mine.