Reborn- My Inventory Rules the Apocalypse

I got a second chance—one month before the apocalypse hit. Last time, my so-called best friend and my cheating boyfriend left me for dead. This time? I’m the one holding all the cards.

I sold off my billion-dollar inheritance and turned it into enough supplies to outlast the end of the world. While they’re crawling in the dirt, begging for a scrap of food, I’m locked safe inside my fortress, surrounded by luxury, sipping vintage wine.

The pounding started on my door. “Vivian! Please, you have to let me in!” It was him, his voice ragged with fear.

I didn’t even blink. I just raised my pistol, my smile cold as ice. “This bullet? Consider it your last meal.”

I thought I was in control. I thought I’d planned for everything.

But then the bodyguard—the one who died for me in another life—finally figured out my secret.

And the way he’s looking at me now… it’s not gratitude in his eyes. It’s something far more dangerous.

*****

My eyes snapped open to the sight of a crystal chandelier.

Silence.

Not the oppressive, dead silence of the Wasteland, but the peaceful, expensive quiet of a perfectly insulated penthouse.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat of disbelief.

I was lying on a mattress so soft it felt like a cloud, wrapped in Egyptian cotton sheets that smelled of lavender.

This wasn't my memory of a cold, concrete floor.

I sat up, my body light and unburdened, no ache of hunger in my belly.

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the Manhattan skyline in hues of gold.

It was a view I hadn't seen in ten years.

I scrambled for the phone on the nightstand, my hands trembling.

The screen lit up. June 2nd.

A sob caught in my throat, sharp and sudden.

Thirty days.

I had thirty days before the world ended.

I was back.

I was really back.

A hysterical laugh bubbled out of me, followed by a wave of crushing grief.

All those years of fighting, of starving, of being alone.

All of it, undone.

The face of the man who died for me flashed in my mind, clear as day.

Luke Miller.

His name was a ghost on my lips.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing the emotions down.

Panic was a luxury I couldn't afford.

I had done this before; I knew the script.

This time, I would rewrite the ending.

I swung my legs out of bed and walked to the window.

The city below pulsed with ignorant life, a herd of sheep grazing before the slaughter.

But I was no longer a sheep.

I was the wolf who had seen the butcher's knife.

A cold, hard certainty settled in my chest.

First, the money.

I needed to liquidate everything, stocks, bonds, this very apartment.

Cash was king, but only for the next twenty-nine days.

Then, it would be worthless.

I pulled on a set of ridiculously expensive athleisure wear.

A mask of normalcy for the world outside.

I needed to see it, to feel the calm before the storm.

The morning air in Central Park was crisp and clean, devoid of the stench of decay.

Joggers pounded the paths, their faces smooth with trivial worries.

I kept my pace steady, my eyes scanning.

And then I saw him.

Luke Miller.

He was leading a security patrol near the 72nd Street entrance, his posture ramrod straight.

The sunlight caught his blond hair, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw.

He looked every inch the All-American hero, a Marine even in a security uniform.

A memory, visceral and brutal, slammed into me.

Him, standing over me, a broken rifle in his hands, covered in blood as the monsters closed in.

His last words, a hoarse command for me to run.

My steps faltered for a single heartbeat.

His gaze swept over me, polite, professional, utterly unaware.

He didn't know me.

Not yet.

But he would.

This time, I wouldn't be the helpless woman he died protecting.

This time, I would be the architect of our survival.

I met his blue eyes for a fleeting second as I passed.

A tiny, grim smile touched my lips.

I had my mission.

I had my list.

And now, I had my soldier.

But the first item on my list wasn't food or water.

It was vengeance.

The people who betrayed me last time were still out there, living their perfect lives.

They thought the apocalypse was the worst thing that could happen.

They had no idea what was coming for them.

And as I turned toward home, a plan already forming, I knew the first life I was going to save was his.

Even if I had to burn this whole city down to do it.