เข้าสู่ระบบแชร์
Chapter 6
วันที่เผยแพร่:
2026-10-03 05:56:02I sat in the leather booth of my broker's office, watching the ticker on the screen.
"Sell it all," I told him.The broker blinked, his fingers hovering over his keyboard. "Miss Vance, these are blue-chip luxury holdings. High-end fashion conglomerates, private equity, luxury real estate trusts.
They're yielding eight percent annually. Are you absolutely sure you want to liquidate the entire portfolio?""I'm sure."In my past life, the dividends from these exact stocks paid for Chloe's shopping sprees and Evelyn's country club memberships.
In thirty days, those stocks would be worthless digital ghosts. Paper money doesn't stop teeth.
"Transfer the proceeds to my primary checking. The one that isn't frozen," I added.He typed furiously. "Done. You're liquidating roughly four million in assets."Four million.
A drop in the bucket compared to the physical gold sitting in my spatial void, but it was exactly what I needed for today.The Sterling & Croft Auction House smelled of old money, expensive cologne, and delusion.
I sat in the secluded VIP balcony box, hidden behind tinted one-way glass. Down on the main floor, the city's elite sipped champagne and bid on pointless garbage: a vintage Rolex, a painting of a sad-looking dog, a deed to a timeshare in the Alps.
They had no idea the Alps were going to be a frozen, irradiated wasteland in a month.The auctioneer, a pompous man with wire-rimmed glasses, cleared his throat.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we now move to our specialized security and transport lot. Up for bid is a fleet of four custom-uparmored Mercedes G-Wagons and two reinforced logistical transport trucks.
Bulletproof glass, run-flat tires, independent CBRN air filtration systems. The opening bid is one point five million.
"The room was mostly quiet. Armored vehicles were a niche market. Most of the billionaires down there relied on private security details, not their own drivable tanks. I pressed my bidding button.
"Two million," the auctioneer called out, scanning the room.A man in the third row raised his hand. "Two point two."I pressed the button again. "Three million."The man frowned, looking up at the VIP box. He shook his head and lowered his paddle.
"Three million going once," the auctioneer said. "Going twice. Sold to the lady in the VIP box."A murmur rippled through the crowd. Three million was a steep premium, but they were paying for the convenience.
"Will that be cash or wire transfer, madam?" the auctioneer asked, looking up at my box.I picked up the microphone. "Cash. Certified bank drafts. I'll bring them down personally."It was a slight lie.
I didn't have the drafts on me. I had four million in physical, untraceable cash sitting in my spatial space.
I just needed to step into the private hallway, pull the equivalent value in certified drafts from the void, and hand them over. I was just about to step out of the VIP box when the heavy oak doors of the auction hall burst open. The bang echoed like a gunshot.
The entire room fell dead silent. Marcus stood in the doorway. He looked terrible. His suit was wrinkled, his hair was a mess, and his right arm was still in a sling from where I’d popped his shoulder at the warehouse.
His eyes were wild, darting around the room until they locked onto the auctioneer, and then, somehow, he spotted me through the one-way glass. How did he even see me? I thought. A
The glare from the champagne flute in my hand."Stop the auction!" Marcus screamed, his voice cracking. He pointed a shaking finger at the stage. "Those vehicles are marital property!
She's liquidating our assets to hide them!"The auctioneer blinked, thoroughly offended. "Sir, this is a private—""I have an injunction!"
Marcus yelled, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. "She can't spend a dime of our money! I'm calling the cops!
You're all accessories to financial fraud!"Two massive security guards in tailored suits materialized at his sides almost instantly. "Sir, you need to leave," the first guard said, his voice a low rumble.
"Get your hands off me! Do you know who I am?" Marcus shrieked as they grabbed his arms.
"I'm Marcus Thorne! That woman up there is stealing from me!""You're disturbing the guests," the second guard said. They didn't just escort him.
They dragged him. Marcus's expensive leather shoes squeaked against the polished marble floor as they hauled him backward. He kicked his legs, screaming about lawyers and judges, his face turning a mottled, ugly purple.
"Scarlett!" he bellowed, staring directly up at my box. "You can't hide from me! I'll ruin you!"I didn't say a word. I just raised my champagne flute in a slow, mock toast.
The guards tossed him out the front doors. I heard the muffled sound of him landing on the concrete steps outside, followed by the heavy thud of the doors shutting. The auctioneer cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses.
"My apologies, ladies and gentlemen. A minor disturbance. Now, if the buyer in the VIP box would kindly provide the payment..."I stepped out of the box, walking down the velvet-lined stairs. I had already ducked into the hallway, pulled the four certified bank drafts from my spatial space, and tucked them into my clutch.
I walked up to the podium and handed the envelopes to the auctioneer. "Pleasure doing business with you," I said. The auctioneer peeked inside the first envelope, verified the drafts, and nodded.
"The vehicles are yours, Miss Vance. We will have them delivered to your warehouse by tomorrow morning.""Make sure the tints are dark," I said. "I don't like people looking in.
"I turned and walked out of the auction house, the heavy doors parting for me. Outside, Marcus was sitting on the curb, rubbing his shoulder, looking like a defeated, pathetic dog. He looked up as I walked past. "You're crazy," he spat, his voice hoarse.
"You're spending millions on tanks when we're getting a divorce. The judge will make you pay me back."I stopped and looked down at him. I reached into my clutch, pulled out a single, crisp hundred-dollar bill, and dropped it into his lap.
"For the cab ride home, Marcus," I said, my voice dripping with sweet, lethal sass. "And try not to spend it all on cheap whiskey.
You'll need a clear head for when the judge laughs you out of court."I walked away, the crisp autumn air filling my lungs. Four armored G-Wagons.
Two transport trucks. CBRN air filtration. Run-flat tires. Marcus thought he was fighting over paper.
He didn't realize I was buying the only things that would keep us breathing when the air turned to poison.
My phone buzzed. It was a text from Maya. I cleared my schedule. When do I start?I smiled, typing back a single word.
บทล่าสุด
Reborn Before Doomsday: The Ex-Military Wife’s Revenge Chapter 7
The first time I tried to do a pull-up, I hung there for exactly four seconds before dropping onto the mat like a sack of wet flour.I stared up at the ceiling of the private gym, my arms trembling, my palms raw. The pull-up bar creaked above me, almost mockingly.Pathetic.In my past life, I could do thirty consecutive pull-ups in full combat gear. I could run ten miles with a sixty-pound ruck and still have breath left to shoot straight. That body was gone. This body, the one I'd woken up in, was soft. The skin was smooth, the muscles undefined, the core weak from three years of carrying groceries and bending over to pick up Leo's toys.I rolled off the mat and landed on my feet, wincing as my unconditioned knees protested. "Again," I muttered to myself.I jumped up, grabbed the bar, and hung. My shoulders burned. My grip slipped. I dropped."Again."By the twentieth attempt, I managed six seconds. By the fiftieth, I managed twelve. My hands were blistered, my forearms on fire, and I
Reborn Before Doomsday: The Ex-Military Wife’s Revenge Chapter 6
I sat in the leather booth of my broker's office, watching the ticker on the screen. "Sell it all," I told him.The broker blinked, his fingers hovering over his keyboard. "Miss Vance, these are blue-chip luxury holdings. High-end fashion conglomerates, private equity, luxury real estate trusts. They're yielding eight percent annually. Are you absolutely sure you want to liquidate the entire portfolio?""I'm sure."In my past life, the dividends from these exact stocks paid for Chloe's shopping sprees and Evelyn's country club memberships. In thirty days, those stocks would be worthless digital ghosts. Paper money doesn't stop teeth. "Transfer the proceeds to my primary checking. The one that isn't frozen," I added.He typed furiously. "Done. You're liquidating roughly four million in assets."Four million. A drop in the bucket compared to the physical gold sitting in my spatial void, but it was exactly what I needed for today.The Sterling & Croft Auction House smelled of old money, e
Reborn Before Doomsday: The Ex-Military Wife’s Revenge Chapter 5
The angle grinder screamed, throwing a shower of orange sparks across the concrete floor. I was watching the crew weld the final hinges onto the inner blast door when my phone buzzed in my pocket. Arthur Sterling. I wiped the grease off my hands with a rag and answered. "Tell me you have good news, Arthur.""I have news," Arthur's crisp voice came through the speaker. "Mr. Thorne filed an emergency injunction at nine this morning. A judge just granted it. Your joint accounts and any assets tied to the marital estate are going to be frozen as of ten 10:00 "I didn't flinch. I just leaned against the cold steel of the doorframe. "He actually did it," I said. "He believes he has secured a leverage point," Arthur said, sounding deeply unimpressed. "He thinks he's trapped you, Miss Vance.. I advised him that the irrevocable trust is untouchable, but he's proceeding under the assumption that the liquid capital in your joint checking and savings is marital property.""Let him think that," I
Reborn Before Doomsday: The Ex-Military Wife’s Revenge Chapter 4
The roar of an engine grinder echoed off the steel walls of my new fortress. I stood in the center of the fifty-thousand-square-foot logistics warehouse, watching a crew of six men weld the secondary blast doors into place. The air smelled of ozone, melting steel, and dust. It was the smell of security. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, expecting a text from Arthur, my lawyer, confirming the final transfer of the property deed. Instead, it was a security alert from the outer gate camera. I tapped the screen. A black luxury sedan was idling at the pedestrian access door. Standing in front of the intercom, looking like a pair of rabid dogs denied entry to a butcher shop, were Marcus and his mother, Evelyn. I sighed, slipping the phone back into my pocket. I had hoped the restraining order Arthur filed that morning would keep them at bay. Apparently, Marcus’s entitlement was stronger than his fear of legal consequences. I signaled the foreman to pause the welding and wa
Reborn Before Doomsday: The Ex-Military Wife’s Revenge Chapter 3
By six the next morning, the sky was still a bruised purple, and I was already standing in the cavernous warehouse of a restaurant wholesale supplier on the edge of the city. I didn’t bother with grocery stores. Supermarkets would be looted to the bone within forty-eight hours of the outbreak. I needed commercial bulk. I bought five hundred pounds of white rice, two hundred pounds of dried beans, canned meats, powdered milk, and blocks of dehydrated butter. I cleared out their entire inventory of water purification tablets, heavy-duty Mylar tarps, and industrial first-aid kits. The clerk, a bored teenager with a nose ring, stared at my new black Amex like it was a winning lottery ticket. "You need us to deliver this, ma'am?" he asked. "No," I said, swiping the card. "I'll take it out back."I walked out to the secluded loading bay. The air was crisp, smelling of diesel and damp concrete. I placed my hand on the wooden pallet holding three hundred pounds of rice. I closed my eyes an
Reborn Before Doomsday: The Ex-Military Wife’s Revenge Chapter 2
I didn’t wait for Marcus to finish his sputtering rant. I just tapped the red icon on my screen and dropped the phone onto the kitchen island."Get out," I said. Chloe let out a wet, hysterical laugh, rubbing her reddened cheek. "You can't kick us out! This is Marcus's house!""Actually," I said, pulling my phone back out and opening the smart-home app, "it's in my name.I paid the mortgage. And since I just filed for divorce, I'm revoking your guest privileges."I tapped the screen.Click. Whir. Click.The heavy deadbolts on the front door engaged. The electronic keypad on the garage door flashed red, locking down.I had just changed every passcode and disabled their biometric access. "You're bluffing," Evelyn hissed, struggling to her feet. "Marcus will have you arrested!""Tell him to hurry," I said, grabbing my pre-packed tactical duffel from the hall closet—a habit from my military days that was currently saving me a lot of time. "Because in about thirty minutes, the trash collectio
