What?! I Transmigrated into an APOCALYPSE NOVEL!

~Evelyn.

If someone had told me yesterday that getting poisoned by my cheating fiancé would result in a second chance at life, I would have thrown my drink right in his face.

My last memory was sitting on my couch, gasping for breath while staring at his final text message. Don't bother calling an ambulance, Ev. The drink will finish you off in minutes. I need your savings to start over with Sarah.

And then, total darkness.

Only, I didn't wake up in a hospital. I woke up here.

My head pounded as a completely different set of memories flooded my brain. I wasn't just Evelyn anymore. I was also the exhausted wife from the doomsday survival web novel I had been reading right before I died. In that story, this body belonged to a miserable woman who worked two jobs to support a parasite of a husband and his abusive family, only to be thrown out into a freezing blizzard to die when the world collapsed.

I scrambled off the narrow bed and checked the phone resting on the blanket.

September 1.

Are you kidding me?

The cheap curtains, the worn wooden dresser, the exact date, it all matched the opening chapter of the book. I had transmigrated into a doomsday novel! And worse, the global deep freeze was scheduled to wipe out humanity in exactly eighty days.

Before I could even panic, a warm, pulsing sensation flared deep inside my soul. A mental door clicked open, revealing an infinite, time stopped storage dimension bound directly to my mind. My golden finger had arrived. Food, water, supplies, anything I tossed in there would never spoil.

A violent crash shattered my thoughts.

My bedroom door flew open, slammed back against the wall by a pair of heavy, muddy boots.

Arthur, my worthless father in law, stood in the doorway with his arms crossed and a scowl twisting his wrinkled face. "Evelyn, are you deaf?" he barked, his voice loud enough to rattle my eardrums. "I have been calling you for twenty minutes! Get out here and hand over your bank card. Derek has bills to settle today."

I stared at him, my expression ice cold. "Then let him use his own card. My salary isn't paying his debts anymore."

Arthur sneered, stepping closer. "Have you lost your mind? You live under this roof because we allowed it. Your money keeps this house running."

"Keep telling yourself that, Arthur," I said quietly, my voice carrying a steady weight that made him hesitate for a fraction of a second. "I am done playing maid to a bunch of freeloaders."

Arthur's face flushed a deep, ugly purple. He stormed across the room, his eyes bulging with rage. Before I could blink, he lunged forward and gripped my wrist so hard his fingernails dug into my skin.

"You ungrateful little witch!" Arthur roared, spitting as he talked. "We lowered our standards to let a nobody like you marry into this family, and now you have the nerve to talk back? Hand that card over right now or I will teach you how to respect your elders!"

As he spoke, he raised his other heavy hand, aiming a vicious slap straight at my face.

A cold, burning fury exploded in my chest.

I wrenched my arm free from his grip with a sharp twist, ducked under his swinging arm, and spun around.

Before he could recover his balance, I channeled every ounce of my frustration from my past life's poisoning and this body's abuse, swinging my hand back with absolute force.

Crack.

A ringing backhand slap slammed directly across his jaw.

The sheer impact of the strike knocked Arthur completely off his feet. He tripped backward over a chair and crashed hard onto the wooden floor, his glasses flying off his face and sliding across the room. He clutched his reddened, swelling cheek, staring up at me as if a ghost had just risen from the dead.

"You... you hit me?" Arthur sputtered, his voice trembling with absolute shock and humiliation. "You actually raised your hand against me?"

I stood over him, looking down with pure disdain. "Consider that a warning. Touch me again, and you won't just be holding your jaw."

Arthur scrambled backward on the floor, opening and closing his mouth like a stranded fish, too terrified to utter another word.

I stepped past him and walked out of the bedroom into the living room.

A four year old boy named Leo sat on the couch, shoveling potato chips into his mouth while staring mindlessly at the television. He didn't even blink when his grandfather crashed to the floor.

I knew the truth about him. In the book, Derek and his mistress Chloe had spent months poisoning the boy against me, whispering that I was just a boring drudge while Chloe was his real mother who spoiled him with toys and affection.

I grabbed a small pair of craft scissors from the coffee table, reached down, and snipped a lock of the boy's hair before he could pull away, slipping it into my pocket.

Leo shoved my hand away, his face twisting into a bratty scowl. "Stop it! Go away! Mommy Chloe says you're just a mean old helper and she's going to be my real mommy soon! Go make my nuggets right now!"

I looked down at him, feeling no anger, only profound pity for how thoroughly poisoned his little mind was by the adults around him.

"Your mother can feed you from now on," I said softly.

He blinked, confused by my calm tone, but turned right back to his cartoon.

I grabbed my handbag, passport, and legal documents from the closet, and unlocked the front door.

I was halfway down the apartment stairs when my phone buzzed violently in my hand.

Derek's name flashed on the screen. I tapped the green button.

"Have you completely lost your mind?" Derek roared through the speaker, his voice distorted with rage. "My father is sitting in the living room crying because you assaulted him! Get your ass back inside right now and kneel before him to apologize!"

I walked out of the building into the bright afternoon sunlight, holding the phone to my ear. The sound of his voice did not make my heart ache anymore. It only disgusted me.

"Derek, do you honestly think I care about your father's act?" I asked, my voice steady and piercing.

"What are you even talking about? Get back in the house!" he snapped back.

I paused on the sidewalk, watching cars drive by, delivering the reality check that would shatter his world. "I am done playing the fool for you and your family. I know about everything, Derek. I know whose child Leo really is, and I know why you married me. Our little game is over. Just make sure you bring your identification and household register to the city registry within the hour. We are getting a divorce."

Before he could stammer out a single word, I hung up the call, blocked his number, and turned my phone to silent.