All Chapters of 90 Days Before The Apocalypse I Chose Revenge : Chapter 21 - Chapter 25

​By 7:00 PM, the blood-orange sun had melted completely behind the jagged skyline, leaving the sky stained in a deep, bruised purple. The heatwave outside showed no sign of breaking; even through the thick, triple-paned glass of the penthouse, the evening felt heavy, trapped under a dense dome of urban pollution and humidity.​Inside the living room, the atmosphere was quiet, thick with an unspoken, tense performance.​Beatrice sat at the dining table, her reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose as she methodically went through a stack of my late mother’s old porcelain valuation sheets. Clara lay sprawled on the chaise lounge nearby, her eyes glued to her phone, her thumb flicking rapidly across the glowing screen as she exchanged hidden text messages with Julian.​I remained on the velvet sofa under the cashmere blanket, pretending to drift in and out of a light, fitful sleep.​Every time I stirred or shifted my weight, Beatrice would look up from her papers with that sicke

​The silence in the penthouse living room was thick, heavy, and suffocating, broken only by the low, steady hum of the central air conditioning vents.​I remained curled beneath the cashmere blanket on the velvet sofa, my eyes closed, breathing slowly as if I had drifted into a restless, fragile sleep. Through the narrow slit of my lashes, I watched the three people who had spent the last few days treating me like a stray dog.​Julian sat rigidly in the leather armchair, his tea-stained trousers stiff against his legs, staring down at his muted phone with a jaw clenched so tightly a muscle pulsed beneath his skin. Across the room at the dining table, Beatrice sat straight-backed, her manicured nails tapping a slow, silent rhythm of pure rage against the polished wood. Beside her, Clara slumped in her chair, her face bare and flushed from scrubbing off her expensive perfume, glaring daggers at the back of my head.​They were trapped in my living room like unpaid servants on night watch

​EVELYN’S POV​Sunlight cut through the open terrace doors like a dull yellow blade, bringing with it the suffocating weight of another blistering morning. Even at 6:00 AM, the air rolling off the city concrete was thick, stagnant, and scorching hot, clinging to the walls of the penthouse like a damp wool blanket.​I lay curled on the velvet sofa, keeping my eyes shut, listening to the shallow, irritable breathing of the three people trapped in my living room.​They had barely slept. Through the night, I had watched them through the narrow slit of my lashes—Julian slumped uncomfortably in the leather armchair with his sweat-stained shirt unbuttoned at the collar, Beatrice stiff-necked on a dining chair with her head lolling sideways, and Clara curled awkwardly on the hard chaise lounge, swatting angrily at the warm air whenever she stirred.​Look at them, I thought quietly, a cold, sharp clarity settling deep behind my ribs beneath my trembling, fragile exterior. They think they're gu