Stockpiling For What?

Noah's POV

"Noah! You ungrateful little wretch!" My mother's shrill voice blasted through the receiver, forcing me to pull the phone away from my ear. 

I stepped into the elevator.

"How dare you lock your father and me out of the family accounts? Do you have any idea how embarrassing it was when your father's card was declined at the checkout counter?"

I closed my eyes and sighed. Of course. They couldn't reach me through their usual numbers, so they'd found another number to use. I wasn't interested in listening to her complaints.

"I'm hanging up."

"Don't you dare!" my father bellowed in the background. "You ungrateful brat! You'd better get your ass back home right now! You owe us an apology, and you're going to restore our access to those accounts immediately. And what about the delivery waiting at our door? Who's going to pay for that?"

I stared at the phone. Was this man hearing himself?

They'd spent years treating Noah's earnings as their personal fortune, and now they were furious because he'd finally stopped funding their lifestyle.

"I'll call you back," I said flatly.

"Noah, you..."

I ended the call. My thumb hovered over the screen as I blocked the number too.

When I returned my phone to my coat pocket, Josh was looking at me. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked, one of his brows tilting up.

“Yes.” I nodded. I wasn't about to trauma dump on my boss about the parasites I had as a family. My plan to team up with this formidable boss was more important.

Suddenly a thought hit me. My documents.

I straightened. The original Noah had been given a house by the company and moved out of the family home a few weeks ago.

Unfortunately, he'd left some important documents behind when he'd moved out. His birth certificate, academic diplomas, and other personal papers were still in the bottom drawer of the desk in his old bedroom.

I needed those papers. I couldn't afford to leave them behind, especially now that I intended to sever ties with these people permanently.

I looked at the phone again. Fine.

I'd make one final trip to that house, collect my belongings, and leave.

I turned to Josh. “Sir. Can you drop me off at my parent's house instead?” 

He nodded calmly. “Of course.”

This will be the last time I'll contact my adoptive family again. From now on, I'll focus on surviving the end of the world.

~~~

The hot afternoon sun hit me the moment I stepped out of Josh's air-conditioned car. 

I got out of the passenger's seat, walked around the car to stand in front of him. “Thank you, sir, for the ride.”

He hummed under his breath in acknowledgment as he turned the steering wheel. I watched as the car rolled down the street.

I hurried up the front steps and pushed the door open. The moment I entered the house, I stopped dead.

The living room had been transformed.

Cardboard boxes were stacked against the walls, some nearly reaching the ceiling. Shopping bags overflowed with heavy winter parkas, thermal boots, and thick wool blankets. The dining table was crowded with canned food, packaged water, and medical supplies. There were even several portable power stations arranged beside the sofa.

For several seconds, I simply stared dumbfounded. What in the world was going on here?

My adoptive parents stood in the middle of the room, looking sweaty and furious. My younger brother was beside them, pacing impatiently as he checked something on his phone.

The moment my mother spotted me, she stormed forward.

"Look who finally decided to show up!" She seized my arm and attempted to drag me farther into the living room.

"Do you have any idea what we've been through today just because you decided to play some ridiculous game with our accounts!"

I wrenched my arm free. "Don't touch me."

She stared at me in disbelief, apparently unused to hearing such a response from me.

My father stepped forward, his face dark with anger. "You listen to me. Your brother has spent a fortune ordering supplies, and now our cards won't work! We've got deliveries to pay for.”

I glanced at the piles of provisions. "Your cards?"

"The accounts you've always let us use!" he snapped. "Don't pretend you don't understand!"

"I understand perfectly. They're my accounts, and I've revoked your access."

His face reddened. "How dare you!"

My brother stopped pacing and looked at me with an expression of disbelief, as though he couldn't comprehend that I'd dared to defy our parents. Then his face twisted with anger. "You can't do this, Noah! I already ordered everything we need!"

"Then you should have considered how you intended to pay for ‘everything you need’ before placing the orders."

His mouth fell open. My mother pointed an accusing finger at me. "Enough! You're going to restore our access to the accounts, and apologize to your father. Do you understand?"

"No."

The word landed like a whip. My father took a step toward me. "What did you say?"

"I said no. I'm not giving you any more money, and I'm certainly not handing over control of my accounts."

I was beginning to enjoy saying that.

However, my amusement faded as a random thought hit me. I looked around the room again.

These weren't random purchases. Ethan had gone to considerable trouble to acquire supplies intended for an emergency.

But why? As far as I knew, ordinary people in this world had no idea what was coming. Even I knew about the apocalypse only because I'd read The Bleeding Frost.

So why was my family suddenly preparing for a disaster they shouldn't know existed?

My gaze drifted toward my younger brother. He was watching me. And unlike our parents, it looked like he wasn't merely angry about the money. There was something tense and calculating beneath his irritation.

When our eyes met, he quickly looked away.

My stomach tightened. Wait a minute.

Could it be? Was my younger brother also aware of the apocalypse? Was that why he'd returned home and started demanding money for expensive purchases?

"We don't have time for this!" my brother suddenly snapped.

He turned toward our father, his voice rising with an unusual urgency. "Just make him give us access! We need to pay for more supplies before it's too late!"

I took a step forward. "Why are you buying winter clothes when the weather is getting hotter? Why are you stockpiling enough food and water to last for months?”

His expression hardened. "Stop asking stupid questions."

He turned away, but not before I caught the flash of panic in his eyes.

Before I could press him further, my father seized my shoulders.

"That's enough! You're going to fix this mess right now!"

He shoved me backward, and my back struck the wall. Pain flared across my shoulders.

"Get off me!" I yelled.

My mother rushed forward, reaching into my coat pocket. "Give me your phone! I'll restore the accounts myself!"

I twisted away from her grasp, but my father tightened his hold.

"Stop struggling!" He said angrily.

My brother hurried over, apparently to help our parents overpower me. He grabbed my wrist, trying to get my flailing arms out of the way to get to my pocket.

Three against one. Wonderful.

I'd known these people were greedy, but I'd underestimated how far they were willing to go when their access to my money was threatened.

My mother clawed at my pocket while my father pinned me against the wall. I tried to wrench myself free, but he was stronger than I'd anticipated.

Then my doorbell rang. The sudden sound cut through the struggle.

If there's anything else my adoptive family was good at, it was keeping up appearances. They played the loving family to perfection, so neighbours can never suspect they were leeches behind closed doors.

They moved away from me, already plastering fake smiles on their faces. 

“Come on in,” my adoptive mother called out softly.

The door opened and Josh Sinclair stepped inside.