The apocalypse countdown 2

The boy’s mother rushed over, her purse falling open as she dropped beside him and pulled him into her arms.

“Leo! Oh my God, Leo!”

She checked him over and over again, then pulled at the torn fabric around his knee.

She stopped. There was no blood. No wound. Not even a red mark.

The woman stared at his knee before looking up at Amelia.

“What... what did you do?” Her face had gone pale. She grabbed Amelia’s sleeve. “Are you a doctor? Some kind of specialist?”

“No.” Amelia gently pulled her arm free. Her palm was still tingling from the strange warmth she had felt when she touched the boy. “I don't know. I just put my hand over it.”

She glanced at the boy. “Just keep an eye on him.”

“Thank you,” the woman whispered. “Thank you so much.”

Amelia gave her a small nod before stepping away.

She picked up her bag and walked toward the office tower before more people could gather.

Once she stepped through the revolving glass doors, Amelia moved toward a quiet corner near the directory boards.

She stopped there and brought the system interface up in her mind.

[Apocalypse countdown: 11 days.]

She stared at the words.

Why had it changed from six months? She waited for another message, but nothing came.

[Temporal tracking recalibrated.]

That was all the system gave her..... Eleven days.

She had been preparing for six months. Now she had less than two weeks. She couldn't waste any more time.

She needed Ian.

Amelia walked toward the reception desk. The young receptionist looked up and recognized her immediately.

“Mrs. Amelia. Good afternoon. Did you have an appointment with Mr. Ian?”

“No.” Amelia gave her a small smile. “I'm just dropping something off for him.”

The receptionist tapped something on her console, then looked up.

“You can go right up, ma'am. Floor thirty-two. His assistant will meet you at the elevators.”

“Thank you.”

Amelia stepped into the elevator. When the doors opened on the executive floor, Ian was already standing near his assistant's desk.

His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, and he had a legal brief in one hand.

The moment he saw her walk out carrying a lunch bag, he looked surprised.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, stepping toward her.

Amelia held up the bag. “I brought you lunch.”

His eyebrow lifted. “Should I be worried?”

She laughed softly. “I got roasted chicken and wild rice from that place near the district.”

“My wife has never randomly appeared at my office with food before.” He looked at the bag again. “Usually, if I see you during work hours, it means there's a document that needs signing or some family matter.”

“I was in the area dealing with the warehouse contractors,” she said. “And I thought you might want to eat something that didn't come from a vending machine.”

Ian looked at her for a moment before taking the bag from her.

His fingers brushed hers.

They went into his private office, and Amelia placed the food on the small glass table near the window. Ian set his documents aside before sitting down with her.

They ate quietly for a few minutes. Amelia looked out at the city while she ate. She had spent years believing she couldn't trust him.

Halfway through the meal, Ian put his fork down.

“Something happened?"

Amelia looked at him. “No. It's just been a long morning with the warehouse contractors.”

“Amelia.” His voice wasn't harsh, but he wasn't going to let it go.

“You've spent the last day selling properties, moving money, and fighting with your family. Something's bothering you.”

He leaned back slightly. “Is this still about Julian and your father?”

Amelia lowered her eyes to her plate. She couldn't tell him about the countdown.

Not yet.

But she could tell him about Apex.

“There was another problem this morning.” She continued. “I tried to secure an acquisition.”

“What acquisition?”

“Apex Distribution.”

Ian looked at her. “They have the kind of network I need,” Amelia explained. “Warehouses, fuel contracts, refrigerated trucks, private delivery routes. I need that infrastructure.”

Ian listened without interrupting. “Why did the deal fall through?”

“Arthur Hadham refused the offer.”

“Why?”

“My father found out about Elena's initial inquiry. He called Arthur and threatened him with years of litigation if Apex sold any shares to me.”

Amelia looked down at her plate. “Marcus is blocking me from getting the company.”

Ian was quiet for a moment. Then he asked, “You still want it?”

“Yes.”

“I'll buy it.”

Amelia stared at him. “What?”

“I'll buy Apex.”

“Ian, you can't.”

“Why not?” Ian didn't look worried. “Amelia, we don't have to use your name.”

Amelia shook her head. “Why would you do this?”

Ian looked at her. “Because you need it. And because you're my wife,” he added.

“If Marcus wants to use your accounts against you, then he'll have to deal with mine too. My firm doesn't answer to your father.”

Amelia didn't know what to say.

Ian picked up the phone on his desk. “Sarah, clear my calendar for the next hour.”

He listened for a sec.

“I need you to start an accelerated acquisition of Apex Distribution. Use my private holding fund, not the corporate account.”

Amelia watched him as he continued.

“Get the paperwork to Hadham directly. I want the equity transfer prepared immediately. We close by five.”

He hung up. "See. All done."

Before Amelia could answer, Ian's phone rang. He glanced at the screen before answering.

“Yes?”

He listened. Then, his face changed.

“What happened?”

Amelia put her fork down. Ian said nothing for several seconds. Then his hand tightened around the phone.

“You're sure?” There was another pause. “Run the terminal registry again.”

He ended the call slowly as Amelia stared at him. “What is it?”

Ian looked at her. “Apex isn't for sale anymore.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Someone submitted an all-cash buyout notice forty-five minutes ago.”

Amelia's face tightened. “Who?”

“They bought eighty-five percent of the voting shares.” He looked down at the phone again. “And they cleared the company's entire debt.”

Amelia stared at him. “How?”

“I don't know.”

Amelia thought of the warehouse, the broken padlock, the cigarette. And then, Vincent Reed.

“Who bought it, Ian?”

Ian looked at the legal filing on his screen. His eyes moved over the name.

“Vincent Reed.”

Amelia went still. The man who had been at her warehouse. The same man who wasn't supposed to be in this sector for another four months.

And now he had bought the logistics company she needed to survive the apocalypse.