06

THE BANK ACCOUNT

~SIENNA~

I pulled my laptop closer, the screen light stinging my eyes in the early morning quiet.

The apartment felt too still. I needed to move before Ethan came home or my thoughts started spiraling again.

I cleaned off the dining table.

It had my laptop, notebook, bank statements, and phone on it. I wasn't going to guess anymore. I needed to know exactly what power I had before the world turned cold.

I opened a fresh page in my leather notebook and drew a grid.

Cash.

Savings.

Investments.

Property.

Vehicles.

Debt.

Joint Assets.

I didn't want guesses. I wanted real numbers. First, I logged into my savings account. I held my breath as the page loaded.

Available balance: $48,250.00.

I stared at the numbers until they blurred. In my first life, this money had vanished. I had handed it over to Ethan to fix his mistakes and his mother's debts.

This time, it stayed mine, every single cent.

I opened the tab for our joint checking account. My stomach tightened when I saw the balance. It was much lower than I remembered.

$18,412.00.

I looked through the recent transactions. There were charges for rent, utilities, and groceries. Then I noticed them.

A three-hundred-dollar withdrawal for a restaurant I didn't recognize. A five-hundred-dollar transfer to Victoria. Another loan to Ethan's sister.

I felt a strong anger in my chest, but I pushed it away because I didn't have time for emotions. I quickly wrote a note in my book: 'Joint funds: complicated. Do not touch without legal advice.'

I wasn't going to give Ethan's lawyer any ammunition. I would do everything by the book. Ethan wasn't getting an opening to use against me.

I looked out the window at my car parked on the street below. I pulled up my records. It was a simple sedan, but it was fully paid off.

Vehicle — fully owned.

I tapped my pen against the table. A sedan would not be the best choice when the roads were icy, but it was able to drive. It was useful.

'Keep current vehicle until better option appears,' I wrote.

I had to stay disciplined. I couldn't buy a fortified truck if I didn't have a place to park it.

Next, I checked my debts.

I logged into my credit card portals one by one. I had a small balance on one card—about twelve hundred dollars. My student loans were nearly gone, with only two payments left.

I didn't have a mortgage. I didn't have long-term contracts.

For the first time since I woke up, I felt a lightness in my chest. I had fewer chains than I did in my first life.

I was actually free to move.

I flipped to the back of my notebook, where my sixty-day plan lived.

I began to calculate the overall costs.

Property: Expensive.

Construction: Expensive.

Food: Expensive.

Water system: Expensive.

Power: Expensive.

Fuel: Expensive.

Medical supplies: Expensive.

Security: Expensive.

I added the rough figures in the margin. The final number made me lean back in my chair, my head hitting the headrest.

Even with my savings, I couldn't build a billionaire-style fortress. I wasn't an heiress. I was a woman with a reasonable inheritance and a ticking clock.

I had an advantage, but not unlimited reach.

I don't need the strongest compound in the world, I told myself. I just need one strong enough to survive the first wave.

I grabbed a highlighter and broke the list into three columns.

MUST HAVE: Water. Food. Shelter. Power. Medicine. Transportation.

IMPORTANT: Greenhouse. Backup fuel. Communications. Security. Tools.

LATER: Luxury. Comfort. Unnecessary technology.

I stopped at the 'Shelter' line.

The spatial ability changed the math. In my first life, I had spent a fortune on reinforced storage units and basement expansions.

I didn't need a huge warehouse this time. I didn't need dozens of hidden rooms that would be hard to heat and harder to defend.

I could store a year's worth of supplies in a space nobody could see.

It wasn't just a survival gift. It was a financial game-changer.

I moved on to my investment accounts.

Most of it was standard stuff. A small mutual fund. My 401k. A few shares in a tech company. It was enough for a normal retirement, but not enough to disappear off the grid.

Then I remembered.

Before my mother died, she had been obsessive about my future. She had opened a few investment accounts for me years ago, insisting I would need them someday.

I had barely looked at them since.

I searched my old emails. Nothing. I checked my cloud drive. Still nothing.

I stood up and went to the hallway closet. I pushed aside the heavy winter coats and reached for the top shelf, pulling down a dusty plastic bin of old tax documents.

I dug through the folders until my fingers hit something thick.

A faded blue physical folder.

I sat back down at the table and opened the folder.

Inside was an old investment statement from a firm I hadn't thought about in half a decade. My mother's name was on the original paperwork. I scanned down to the beneficiary section.

Sienna Vale.

My fingers shook as I typed the URL into my browser. I had to reset the password, my heart beating against my chest while I waited for the verification code.

I logged in, expecting to see maybe five or ten thousand dollars.

The page loaded.

CURRENT VALUE: $127,640.32

I froze. I stopped breathing.

I refreshed the page. The number stayed the same.

My mother had opened the account years ago and left the money there to grow. Somewhere along the way, between my marriage, Ethan's problems, and taking care of his family, I had completely forgotten it existed.

It was legitimate. It was untouched.

It changed everything.

My first instinct was to hit the transfer button immediately.

My mouse stopped over the screen, then I stopped.

Ethan.

I remembered the lawyer I had contacted. I remembered the rules of divorce. If I moved a hundred thousand dollars into my personal checking account right now, Ethan's legal team would see it as a red flag.

I couldn't make a move that would let him touch this.

I pulled my notebook over and wrote in large, dark letters: $127,640 — DO NOT MOVE YET.

Then, underneath: 'Ask lawyer how to access safely.'

I had the capital. Now I just had to be smart enough to keep it.

I looked at the new total in my notebook. With the inheritance and the investment, my resources were much stronger. The compound didn't feel like a pipe dream anymore.

It felt like a project.

But I still had limits.

I set a new rule at the top of the page: 'Never spend down to zero.'

I needed an emergency reserve for the divorce and the flexibility of an unpredictable future. I stared at the numbers.

It was possible.

Difficult, but possible.

My phone buzzed on the wooden table, the vibration loud in the quiet room.

Unknown Number.

I stared at it for a moment, thinking it might be the law firm.

"Hello?" I said.

"Ms. Vale?" A professional voice came through the line. "This is the representative from the investment group. We noticed a login on your dormant account this morning and wanted to verify the activity."

"It was me," I said, my voice calm. "I'm auditing my records."

"Understood. We've verified your identity through the portal," the man said. "While I have you, Ms. Vale, I should mention that there is actually another document attached to this account that requires your attention."

I sat up straighter.

"Another document?"

"I can't discuss the specifics over an unsecured line," he said. "But it was filed under a confidential status. You can view it through the secure message center on the portal, or you can visit a branch in person."

"I'll look at the portal."

I hung up.

I turned back to the laptop and opened the secure message center.

A single P*F sat at the top of the account history.

ESTATE TRANSFER.....CONFIDENTIAL

Beneficiary Asset: Rural Property

Location: [County/Region]

Size: 18.6 Acres

Status: Fully Paid

My mother's name sat at the top of the document.

I stared at it. I had never seen this before, she had never mentioned it. My finger hovered over the trackpad.

'What did you leave me, Mom?'

I clicked.