REBORN IN THE CATACLYSM: I DUMP MY LEECH HUSBAND FIRST

The taste of copper filled my mouth. Blood. My own blood.

Freezing sleet whipped across my face as the wind screamed around us. I tried to move, but Marcus had me pinned against the ice-covered pavement. His hands dug into my shoulders so hard they hurt.

I looked up at my husband.

There was no panic in his eyes. No hesitation. Nothing.

Just coldness.

"She’s spent her whole life providing for us," Marcus said, his voice terrifyingly calm as he looked down at me. "She can do it one last time. It’s the least she can do for the family."

I tried to scream, but the words caught in my throat when he shoved me backward. I stumbled into the darkness of the alley, straight into the path of the mangy, mutated strays that had been hunting us for days.

Before I could get back on my feet, one of the beasts lunged at me, its jagged teeth sinking deep into my shoulder.

The pain was unbearable.

But somehow, the sound that hurt the most wasn't the beast's growl.

It was the quiet laughter behind me as my sister and husband ran back toward the safety of the bunker, leaving me behind.

So that was it.

My daughter, Sarah—the child I had raised, the child I had starved myself to feed—wasn't even mine. She was theirs. A secret kept behind my back for years while I played the fool, the breadwinner, the martyr.

My vision faded to black. The cold took me.

"Evelyn? Honey, are you listening to me?"

The voice was sharp and impatient.

My eyes flew open, and my heart started pounding against my ribs.

I was sitting in a soft, velvet-upholstered armchair.

Warm air surrounded me. Almost too warm. But after everything I'd been through, it felt strangely comforting.

The familiar scent of expensive jasmine tea filled the room.

I wasn't in the alley. I was in my living room.

I looked down. My hands were smooth, unscarred, and manicured. No frostbite. No bite marks. I scrambled to look at the grand clock in the corner.

June 12th.

Three months. Exactly three months before the skies turned red and the world ended.

"Evelyn! For heaven's sake, put the phone down and look at the paperwork."

I shifted my gaze. Marcus was sitting across from me, looking as polished and insufferable as ever in his tailored charcoal suit. Beside him, on the glass coffee table, sat a thick stack of legal documents.

"The real estate transfer," Marcus continued tapping the papers with a manicured finger. "Mom needs that commercial property in the city center. She’s been talking about that luxury retirement villa for months, and honestly, with your firm doing so well this quarter, it’s just a drop in the bucket for you."

My blood boiled, but I forced a smile. It felt stiff, f but I practiced it until it looked like the sweet, submissive expression I’d worn for five years.

"Of course, Marcus," I said softly. My voice sounded steady, even if my soul was screaming. "I just want everyone to be happy."

Marcus beamed, his eyes glinting with greed. "I knew you’d understand. You’ve always been the sensible one."

Sensible. That was the word they used for a doormat.As I reached for the pen, a sudden, burning pain shot through the palm of my right hand.

I jerked back, staring at it.

For a brief second, a faint, shimmering snowflake appeared on my skin. It glowed with an strange, almost rainbow-like light before slowly fading beneath the surface.

Then it was gone.

What was that?

[System Initializing...] [Spatial Realm Unlocked: Level 1] [Capacity: 100 Cubic Meters] [Function: Organic Preservation / Molecular Analysis]

My breath hitched. A storage space? In my head?

I didn't have time to process the mechanics. I looked back at the contract, then at the tea service. The teapot was solid silver, filled with boiling jasmine.

"You're right," I murmured, leaning forward. "Mom deserves it."

I picked up the teapot, but my fingers "slipped." The heavy silver pot tilted, dumping scalding liquid directly onto Marcus’s lap and the stack of documents beneath him.

"AHHH! God, Evelyn! What the hell are you doing?!"

Marcus shot up, howling as he scrambled to brush the boiling tea from his expensive trousers. The legal documents—the ones that would have stripped me of my father’s legacy.

"Oh my god, Marcus! I’m so sorry!" I cried, standing up and rushing over with a handful of napkins, "accidentally" smearing the ink even further into the fibers of the paper. "My hands are just shaking! I’ve been so stressed lately, I don't know what’s come over me!"

Marcus shoved me aside, his face purple with rage. "You stupid woman! Get out of my way!"

He bolted toward the bathroom, stripping off his ruined pants, his curses echoing through the hallway.

I stood in the center of the living room, the silence of the house suddenly feeling like a sanctuary. I looked down at my palm. The snowflake mark pulsed faintly.

Focus, I told myself. Test it.

I looked at my left hand. My diamond wedding ring—a three-carat rock that Marcus had insisted I buy with my own bonus—caught the afternoon sunlight. It was a symbol of everything I had been tricked into giving away.

I held my palm toward the ring, focusing every ounce of my intent on the object.

Store.

A soft thrum echoed in my mind. The ring vanished from my finger.

I blinked. My finger was bare. Panic flared for a second, then gave way to awe as I peered into the dark, infinite warehouse inside my mind. There, suspended in a soft, glowing light, was my ring.

[Item Stored: Diamond Ring (High Clarity)] [Conversion Value Detected: $50,000] [System Prompt: Would you like to convert to Credits or keep as physical asset?]

A cold, sharp thrill raced down my spine. Fifty thousand dollars. Just for one piece of jewelry.

I looked toward the kitchen, where the pantry was stocked with gourmet ingredients, and then toward the garage, where Marcus kept his collection of vintage wines.

The apocalypse was coming. The world was going to burn, and the people I loved were planning my death.

I walked over to the side table and picked up a heavy crystal vase. I pointed my palm at it.

Store.

It vanished.

I looked toward the bathroom door, hearing Marcus still grumbling as he scrubbed his scalded skin. A dark, jagged smile curled my lips.

He wanted me to be his provider? He wanted me to be his fool?

He had no idea what was coming. I was going to strip him, his mother, and my sister of every cent, every comfort, and every hope they had before the first siren sounded.

I wasn't just going to survive this time. I was going to own the wreckage.

"Everything," I whispered to the empty room, "is going to be mine."