Lereader-d2 Facebook ad: “From his plaything to apocalypse queen-she left him…”

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Esther died brutal, frozen, and betrayed—killed by thugs in the extreme cold apocalypse, after her lover Hugo let his grandmother cast her aside like trash. But fate gave her a second chance: she’s reborn three months early, with a secret pocket ground and a burning drive to survive. No more begging for his love, no more playing his game. She steals his billions, sells his luxury gifts, and flees to stockpile supplies—grains, meds, weapons—preparing to outlast the end of the world. Hugo chases her with more money, more demands, but she’s already gone. This time, she’s not his plaything. She’s the queen of her own survival, and when the cold comes, she’ll be warm, safe, and laughing—while he learns the cost of letting her slip away. ******* The iron gates of the Beaumont estate stood tall against the biting winter wind, casting an eerie chill over everything. Esther tugged the belt of her cream-colored cashmere coat tighter, her eyes locked on the elderly woman before her, draped in a luxurious silk jacket, its intricate stitching at odds with the cold, gray landscape. A thought, almost laughable, crossed her mind. "Ms. Goldstein, this is what Hugo wants," Marianne Beaumont said, handing over a thin check, her voice dripping with condescension. "Three million. That should be more than enough for someone like you to live comfortably." Esther didn't reach for the check. She tilted her head, her perfectly styled chestnut hair slipping over her shoulder, and allowed a faint, mocking smile to play on her lips. "Mrs. Beaumont," she said coolly, her voice slicing through the air like ice. "Are you sure this is from Hugo, or are you just playing the boss here, waving around a check like it's some kind of royal decree?" Marianne's face darkened. "What do you mean by that?" "Exactly what I said." Esther casually took out a lipstick from her designer bag and began to apply it, her eyes never leaving Marianne. "Last year, Hugo gave me a set of Myanford pigeon-blood rubies for my birthday—worth 12 million at auction. "And the year before that, he got me a custom Aston Martin. The color was hideous, but the price? Over six million." She clicked the lipstick cap back on and looked at Marianne, her gaze sharp and unyielding. "Do you really think a guy who spends that kind of money just to make a woman happy is gonna throw in the towel with a check for three million? "Either you're getting too old to understand, or your grandson's gone broke. But I saw Beaumont Group's stock rise five points yesterday, so I'm leaning toward it not being the latter." Marianne's face went pale, her hand trembling as she gripped the check tighter. "Ms. Goldstein," she said, voice wavering, "you really don't appreciate what's been offered. Hugo's marrying someone from a well-known family. It's a match made in heaven. "With your background, you've been lucky to stay in Hugo's circle for three years. That's already more than a blessing for you, and your family, if you ask me." Esther arched an eyebrow, a sharp, sarcastic grin creeping onto her face. "Oh, really?" she said, her tone ice-cold. "You might want to check with my... so-called family to see how they earned that 'blessing.' I'm an orphan, you know." She stepped forward, her heels clicking sharply on the stone pathway. "But let's not forget, Mrs. Beaumont, your grandson wasn't thinking about high morals when he was chasing me. "I was in the design department, minding my business, and he insisted on moving me to the CEO's office, claiming it was 'talent scouting.' In reality, it was just him staring at me like a madman every day. The whole office thought he was losing it." Her expression darkened, recalling the past. "And that obsessive behavior? Heh. I slapped him once, and the next day, he showed up with 100 roses, waiting for me at the elevator. "If Hugo had put that kind of energy into the company, Beaumont Group's stock would've doubled by now." Marianne's lips trembled with fury. "You have no shame." "Shame?" Esther let out a short laugh, her eyes never leaving Marianne. "When your grandson was hanging off my office doorframe, refusing to budge until I agreed to go out with him, where was the shame then? "Now that he's bored, he has you do his dirty work. I called him three times. And he switched his phone off. Real classy, Hugo." Finally, Esther took the check, inspected it under the light, and slowly ripped it in half. Then, she tore it again. And again. Until it was nothing but tiny scraps. "Tell Hugo," she said, her voice ice-cold. "Tell him that three years together buys him a face-to-face conversation if he wants out. Hiding behind his grandmother's skirts doesn't make him a man. It makes him a coward." She scattered the pieces into the wind, watching them swirl away like snowflakes. "I get the picture now. He doesn't love me anymore. What a joke. He didn't have the guts to look me in the eye and end it. Fine. "There's no shortage of men out there who would kill for a shot with me. If he can't cut it, the next guy will. My world keeps turning whether he's in it or not. I don't need him." Just as she finished speaking, two men in black suits rushed from the estate. One grabbed her arm from the left, the other from the right. "What the hell are you doing?" Esther struggled, but their grip was like steel. Marianne turned her back, her voice icy. "You really are naive if you bought any of his promises, Ms. Goldstein. Finish her off." "Finish me?" Esther laughed bitterly, her sarcasm sharp. "Is that how you handle loose ends, Mrs. Beaumont? You actually think you can just off me in the middle of a civilized society?" "Consider it a fresh start," Marianne said without turning around, her voice cold as she stepped back inside the gates. "Goodbye." Esther was shoved into a black sedan with tinted windows, the outside world completely hidden from her. After struggling in vain, she slumped into the seat and suddenly burst out laughing. The driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "Something funny?" he asked, his voice devoid of emotion. "Just laughing at your boss, Mr. Beaumont," Esther said, staring out the window as the city blurred by. "He's such a drama king. He puts on this whole intense, tough-guy act when he's on the hunt, but the second it's time to call it quits, he suddenly plays the victim. "And now what? He thinks he's a director? What am I supposed to star in, The Orphan Returns? Take the Money and Ghost?" The driver didn't crack, keeping his eyes locked on the road. Three hours later, the car pulled into an unfamiliar city. Esther was pushed out of the car and handed an envelope. Inside, there was a new ID. Now she was Esme Goldstein, along with a bank card, a phone, and a key with an address tag. "Mr. Beaumont's orders," the man in black said. "There's 300 thousand in the card. Should be enough to get you through for a while." Without another word, he climbed back into the car and drove off, leaving Esther standing alone on the cold street. She stared at the new ID in her hand, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "Esme Goldstein... Changed my name too, Hugo? How thoughtful." Following the address, she found a small apartment. About 430 square feet, sparsely furnished but clean. The basics were already there. She tossed her bag onto the couch and looked around, suddenly feeling exhausted. She walked over to the window, staring at her reflection in the glass. Then, raising an imaginary glass, she whispered softly to herself, "To me. Twenty-five, unemployed, dumped, dropped in a strange city, holding 300 thousand from my ex and a fake ID. Esther, what a way to start." Her reflection was still beautiful, but there was something in her eyes that had dimmed. "But it's fine," she said with a faint smile. "It's just a new beginning. I've been on my own my whole life. I'm still here." By the third day, everything changed. Esther woke up, shivering. The heat was out, and the world outside the window had turned into a frozen wasteland. Wrapped in blankets, she stumbled to the window and was shocked to see the streets already half-covered in snow, with more falling fast. Her phone buzzed nonstop with alert after alert: [Breaking News: Once-in-a-century extreme cold front hits nationwide.] [Temperatures plummeting to -22°F, widespread power outages.] [Experts predict extreme weather could last for weeks.] Her stomach dropped. Without a second thought, she threw on her thickest jacket and rushed downstairs. The building's supermarket was packed, with people shoving and scrambling to grab whatever they could. Shelves emptied faster than she could blink. "Move! I was here first!" someone shouted. "No way, I touched it first, back off!" an old woman yelled. In the chaos, Esther, quick and agile, fought her way to the front. She grabbed the last two bags of grains, a few packs of pizzas, cans of food, and bottled water. The checkout line was a nightmare, with prices tripling. "Still buying? Move if you're not!" an elderly man growled behind her, shoving her. Esther turned slowly and looked him dead in the eye. "What's the rush? You got somewhere urgent to die?" He froze, muttered under his breath, and backed off. Over the next few days, Esther braved the cold to keep stocking up. She managed to grab more food, a few extra blankets, candles, and lighters. She even bought a fire axe from a hardware store. The shopkeeper gave her a strange look as he handed it to her. "Miss, what do you need this for in weather like this?" he asked, eyebrow raised. "Self-defense," Esther replied without blinking. "People get weird when things fall apart." He thought about it, then tossed a box of nails onto the counter. "Hammer those into your doorframe. Might buy you time." By day seven, she stopped going outside. The temperature had dropped to minus thirty-one degrees, and the news said transportation was completely shut down. Trucks were stuck. Supply chains were broken. Nobody was coming to help. She counted her supplies. Enough food for one person for about a month, if she stretched it and only ate twice a day. The apartment felt like a freezer. She wore every layer she owned and still shook. Power came and went. The water was gone, so she melted snow just to drink. "Whatever," she muttered, stirring a pot of thin, sad porridge. "As long as it's cooked, it won't kill me. If Hugo could see me now, maybe he'd feel a little guilty. Yeah right. Waiting for a man to feel guilty is like waiting for pigs to fly." By day ten, things got ugly. Through the peephole, she watched two neighbors nearly tear each other apart over a single pack of cookies. Esther quietly dragged the couch against the door and wedged it tight. By day fifteen, she heard screaming from downstairs. She didn't go to look. The news, when her phone had signal, was nothing but death. People freezing. People starving. People killing each other. On day twenty-one, Esther was staring at her last few packs of noodles when she heard voices outside her door. "This is the one," a rough voice said. "Been watching her for days. Never goes out." "Then she's either dead or sitting on supplies," another voice replied. Her heart slammed into her ribs. She silently moved to the door and peeked through the peephole. Three men stood outside, bundled in heavy coats, their faces full of malicious intent. "Open up," one of them shouted, pounding on the door. "Community relief. We're here to help." He laughed at his own joke. Esther held her breath, staying perfectly still. "Not opening?" another voice snapped. "Fine. Kick it in." The door shook under the first hit. She ran to the bedroom, grabbed the fire axe, and snatched up the kitchen knife she'd kept close. That was it. That was all she had. The door burst open. The men rushed in, then slowed when they saw her standing there with the axe. For half a second, they hesitated. Then they laughed. "Well damn," the bald one said, grinning. "Didn't expect a pretty little thing." "Hand over the food," he went on, eyes crawling over her. "And if you're good about it, maybe we don't make this too rough." Esther tightened her grip. "Food's in the kitchen. Take it and get the hell out." "She's got attitude," the tall one said, licking his lips. "Mind if I go first?" "Together," the bald man said, stepping forward. Esther stepped back, quickly calculating. One against three, with a huge physical disadvantage—she had to end this quickly. She remembered the self-defense lessons Hugo had forced her to take. At the time, she'd thought he was paranoid. "Hugo," she whispered, "if I survive this, I'll admit you weren't crazy." Then she moved. She swung the axe at the bald man's head. He dodged, but she drove her knee hard into his groin. As he folded, she slammed the axe handle into the back of his neck. "Son of a bitch!" the tall guy shouted, charging. She spun, forcing him back with a wild swing, but the third man grabbed her arm. She stabbed downward without thinking. He screamed and let go. "You filthy bitch!" he roared, swinging at her face. Esther ducked, but the next punch landed in her stomach. The pain was blinding, and she staggered back, crashing into the wall. They circled her now, eyes burning. "We were gonna take it easy," one of them said. "You had to make it hard." Esther knew she was done. But she wasn't going down quiet. In the chaos, she landed another hit on the tall man's shoulder, split the bald man's cheek open, but fists kept coming. Blood filled her mouth. Her vision swam. The last thing she remembered was the bald man raising a chair to slam into her head. She tried to dodge, but her body wouldn't obey. The heavy blow came down hard, and she collapsed, blood pouring from her forehead. Blood dripped onto the emerald pendant around her neck. It was a deep green emerald set in an old platinum mount, a vintage piece Hugo had bought at a private auction for three million dollars. The stone was carved with the image of a roaring lion, its body etched in fine detail, fangs bared, eyes fierce and regal. "Hell," one of the men muttered. "Look at this. That's real food money right there." "Wait," another said. "The hell is going on with it?" "Where'd it go?" The emerald burned against her skin. Light exploded. The last thing Esther saw was three grown men stumbling back in pure terror before the world dissolved into white. .............................................................................. Esther jolted awake, disoriented. The crystal chandeC106:C111lier overhead flickered, its harsh light stabbing her eyes. She bolted upright, heart pounding, scanning the room in a panic. The soft beige silk sheets. The floor-to-ceiling windows with a breathtaking view of the ocean. The walk-in closet door slightly ajar, revealing a row of designer gowns. This was the master bedroom of the seaside villa she had shared with Hugo for the last three years. "No way," she muttered under her breath, her hand instinctively going to her forehead. No wound. No blood. Her phone on the nightstand lit up: September 12th, 10:36 PM. That was three months ago. Her hands trembled as she snatched up the device and unlocked it. The texts from yesterday were still sitting there. She saw the thread where she and Hugo were bickering about which restaurant to hit up for the weekend, and a message from her assistant asking if she wanted the design department's reports dropped off the next day. It was real. She was back three months in the past, before the apocalypse buried the world in brutal cold. Esther sank back into the bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing. 'Is this a glitch in time? A second chance? Was my death so tragic that fate decided I needed to relive it? Or was that twenty-one-day nightmare just a dream—a cruel, twisted dream?' The bathroom door creaked open, and Hugo stepped out, towel-drying his hair. Water droplets slid down his sculpted chest. When he saw she was awake, he casually walked over, tossed the covers aside, and slid into bed beside her, wrapping his long arm around her waist. "What's wrong, babe?" His chin rested on top of her head, his voice still warm with the haze of a shower. "You look off. Bad dream?" Esther froze. The familiarity of his touch hit her like a wave. Too familiar. Too intimate. It made her throat tighten, and tears threatened to spill. She cursed herself internally for being so weak. "Yeah," she muttered, barely audible. "Had a nightmare." Hugo chuckled softly, pressing a kiss into her hair. "It's okay. I'm here. Dreams are always backwards." 'Dreams are backwards,' Esther repeated to herself, a wave of frustration surging inside her. Without thinking, she swung around and slapped him across the face. The sound of the slap rang out in the quiet room. Hugo's face instantly turned red, and he held his cheek, staring at her, completely shocked. "Esther, what the hell?!" He blinked at her, disbelief all over his face. "I told you. No slapping faces!" Esther watched the red mark quickly spreading on his handsome face, a twisted part of her felt a flash of satisfaction, but she kept her expression cold, unyielding. Hugo stared at her for a long moment, then sighed deeply. He shrugged off his robe, revealing his well-defined chest. "How about this? You get it out of your system by hitting me somewhere else. My chest is all yours. Just don't hit my face. I've got a meeting tomorrow." He said it as though they were discussing what to have for dinner. Esther glared at him for a moment, then, without warning, lunged at him and bit into his shoulder. "Ah!" Hugo sucked in a sharp breath but didn't pull away. Instead, he lightly patted her back. "Easy there… you're not a dog, are you?" Esther didn't let go until she tasted blood in her mouth. She pulled away, her breath heavy, but it wasn't from the physical exertion. It was the emotional drain that was wearing her down. Hugo looked at the bleeding bite mark on his shoulder, then glanced at her. "You're ruthless." Esther shot him a cold look. "Asshole." 'How can I even explain this?' she thought. 'Should I tell him about the dream where his grandmother offered me three million to leave, and then I died in the apocalypse? Will he think I am crazy, or just plain stupid?' "I dreamed you were cheating on me with eight women," she said flatly, making up the most ridiculous lie she could think of. "Wanna hear what they looked like?" Hugo blinked, clearly surprised, before bursting into laughter. "That's it? No way. If I had time for that, I'd be spending it on you, not some random girls." He leaned in closer, eyes full of mischief. "Or… maybe you dreamed about something else?" "You also gave me three million to leave," Esther added, pushing his buttons just a little more. Hugo's laughter faded, and his brow furrowed. "No way. I wouldn't sell myself that cheap." He paused, then added, "Three million's way too little." Esther almost laughed out loud. That was Hugo all right—cocky and arrogant, but he never lied. Not when it came to money, anyway. "I want money," she said suddenly, her voice calm and deliberate. Hugo raised an eyebrow. "I've got plenty. How much do you need?" "We should break up," Esther said, her words cool and steady. The room went completely still. Hugo's smile faltered, then slowly disappeared. His usually warm eyes turned cold and unreadable. "What did you just say? I didn't catch that." Esther met his gaze directly, her words firm. "I said I want to break up. And I'm going to find eight guys, switching it up every day." "You're dreaming," Hugo replied, his voice now chilled. "You gonna stop me?" she shot back. Hugo reached up, his fingers brushing her forehead. "No fever," he murmured, his touch light against her skin. His thumb traced the curve of her cheek. "What's going on with you? Did someone say something to you?" Esther turned her face away, refusing to meet his eyes. 'What a needy bastard,' she cursed silently. 'If I believe this crap again, I'll be a total fool. Whether it's a dream or some weird kind of second chance, I'm leaving him tomorrow. This time, I'm taking control.' She pulled the covers over her head and pretended to sleep. But Hugo wasn't having it. He yanked the blankets off and pulled her into a tight bear hug, nearly squeezing the air out of her. "Answer me." Esther didn't speak. She kicked him. Hugo grabbed her ankle, flipped her onto her back, and pinned her to the bed. Then he kissed her—hard, demanding, full of frustration and confusion. Esther fought for a moment, but he held her with a strength that made escape impossible. They knew each other's bodies too well. From resistance to surrender, Esther closed her eyes, thinking to herself, 'Just think of it as one last goodbye. One final time.' What followed was a chaotic, tangled mess of emotions: rage, desperation, surrender. By the time it was over, Esther was so emotionally drained she couldn't even move. Hugo held her tightly from behind, his lips brushing the back of her neck. "No matter what you're thinking, there's no breaking up. Don't even try to entertain that thought." Esther didn't respond, pretending to be asleep. Esther was planning to leave the next day. Hugo was left wondering if it was something she'd heard, something she wanted, or something she was too scared to admit. The next morning, Esther woke up to an empty bed. When she walked downstairs, Hugo was in the kitchen, bringing out a plate of scrambled eggs and a cup of coffee. He was wearing a crisp white shirt and trousers, the bite marks on his shoulder hidden under the fabric. He was back to looking like his usual high-powered, corporate self. "You're awake?" he asked, walking over and leaning in as if to kiss her. Esther turned her head to avoid him. Hugo paused, his eyes darkening for a moment, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he handed her an envelope. "Stay home and rest. Don't overthink things." Esther opened the envelope and found a check inside. 300 million dollars. She stared at the string of zeros and couldn't help but laugh. The last time, Marianne had given her three million. This time, Hugo was handing her 300 million. 'Does the Beaumont family really think money could solve everything?' she thought. "Thanks, Mr. Beaumont," she said, her voice cool. Hugo frowned. "What did you just call me?" "Mr. Beaumont," Esther met his gaze. "What else? Sugar daddy?" "Esther," he said, his tone lowering, "Enough." "I'm going out to clear my head," she said, changing the subject. Hugo watched her for a few seconds before he gave in. "Where to? I'll have the driver take you." "No need. I'll drive myself." After breakfast, Hugo left for work. Esther locked herself in the bedroom and went straight to the full-length mirror. She reached up and touched the emerald pendant hanging around her neck. It was pure emerald—smooth, translucent, with a finely carved lion, its wings seemingly poised to take flight. 'If that dream was real... If the end of the world is really coming...' she thought to herself. She walked over to her vanity and grabbed a blood-sampling needle, the kind she had used during a manicure. She hesitated for a moment before pricking her finger and letting a drop of blood fall onto the emerald pendant. The blood sat on the surface for a moment before being absorbed. Esther held her breath. The pendant warmed up, and a soft white light flickered—not the blinding light from the dream, but gentle, almost soothing. The next second, she felt herself enter a Pocket Ground. It was dim, the size of a soccer field, with solid earth beneath her feet. The air was a bit damp but breathable. It was real. Esther stepped back out of the Pocket Ground, her heart pounding. She looked at the pendant in her hand, which was slowly turning transparent until it disappeared completely. But she could still feel the connection to the Pocket Ground, like it was now a part of her. "Well, well," she chuckled, her voice trembling. "So it's real... Guess the novel wasn't lying after all." 'Survival key. The extreme cold apocalypse. With a Pocket Ground this size, how much can I store?' Esther thought. Without hesitation, she got to work. First, she walked to her closet. All those limited-edition bags, custom-made dresses, jewelry, things she'd once adored now seemed laughable. In the face of an apocalypse, a loaf of bread was more valuable than diamonds. She called a few luxury goods resellers, picking the one offering the highest price, and demanded they come pick everything up the same day. "Ms. Goldstein, are you sure you want to sell all of this?" The manager stared at the almost-empty closet, eyes wide. "Yes," Esther said, lounging on the couch, her legs crossed. "Everything. Just give me a bulk price." Two hours of negotiation later, they settled on 29 million. The manager left, sweat still beading on his forehead, his eyes filled with disbelief. 'Who would sell all their luxury goods like that?' Esther didn't care. She moved to the study and opened the safe. Inside were all the expensive gifts Hugo had given her over the past three years: a Myanford pigeon blood ruby necklace, imperial green emerald earrings, a Patek Philippe starry sky watch, and a bank card. She picked up the card. This was Hugo's personal account, the one he transferred money into every year for her birthday. 170 million the first year, 170 million the second, and 170 million the third. She'd never used it, feeling too weird about spending his money. 'Now? Forget that weirdness,' she thought. She logged into mobile banking: 512 million. Adding the 29 million from the sale and the 300 million check she'd received earlier, she had over 842 million in total. 'How much stuff could I buy with all that? Probably enough to survive for the rest of my life,' Esther thought. Esther packed up all the jewelry, antiques, and gemstones into the Pocket Ground. Then she sorted through her clothes, keeping only a few sets of comfortable, practical outfits, and storing everything else. Finally, she grabbed a suitcase and threw in a few items, just for show. By 4 PM, she was downstairs with her suitcase in hand. Florence Redgrave, the housekeeper, looked up in surprise. "Miss, are you going out?" "Yeah, just getting away for a while." Esther's tone was casual. "Don't wait for me for dinner." "Does Mr. Beaumont know?" "I'll tell him." Esther smiled, adding silently, 'In my own way.' She drove out in the least flashy BMW, went to the bank to cash the check, and transferred all the funds into a newly opened offshore account. Then she headed straight for the airport. On the way, waiting at a red light, Esther pulled out her phone and opened Hugo's chat. The last message from him, sent two hours ago, read: [What do you want for dinner tonight? I'll have the restaurant deliver.] Esther stared at the message for a few seconds, then, without a word, long-pressed his profile, blocked him, and deleted everything. Done. She felt an unexpected sense of relief. For twenty-five years, she had been drifting through life—raised in an orphanage, working herself to the bone, and then meeting Hugo, thinking he was her salvation. But when the apocalypse came, she died like a joke. This time, though, she was going to live for herself. At the airport, she bought a one-way ticket to Bangco City. The world was big, and she had plenty of time to figure things out. The apocalypse was still three months away. As she passed through security, she took one last look at the familiar city. 'Hugo, this time, I'm not playing your game,' she thought. 'I'm going to be the bad girl.' At 6 PM, the plane took off. Esther settled into her first-class seat, gazing out the window at the shrinking city lights, a small smile playing at her lips. 'Extreme cold apocalypse? Bring it on,' she thought. 'This time, I am ready.' .............................................................................. Cruising high in the stratosphere, the plane glided smoothly through the deep blue sky, with a soft carpet of clouds beneath. Esther curled into the corner of her seat, pulling down the window shade and powering up her tablet. It was loaded with the documents she needed. It was straight to the point. [Survival Supply List for the End of the World.] She scrolled through, her fingers brushing over the cold glass as her eyes locked onto the list. This wasn't just a shopping list. This was her blueprint for survival. "Food... buy by the ton," she murmured, typing the first entry: [Grains: 50 tons.] "Is that too much? Nah. Who knows how long it'll last," she muttered. "Pocket Ground's about the size of a football field, and it's maybe ten feet high, so that's around 90,000 cubic yards. Fifty tons of grain isn't gonna take up all that space." She kept scrolling, noting everything. "Instant meals... definitely more. Hot pot kits, noodles, canned goods, compressed biscuits." Her cooking skills? Basic at best. Just make it edible, don't die from it, she'd learned that the hard way in the last apocalypse. This time, she was making up for the lack of quality with sheer quantity. Her fingers flew across the screen. [Instant meal kits: 5000 boxes] [Instant noodles: 10,000 packs (assorted flavors)] [Canned meat: 10,000 cans] [Canned fruit: 5,000 cans] [Compressed biscuits: 5,000 packs] [Energy bars: 10,000 bars] "Need more seafood," she muttered to herself, her mind wandering back to her childhood in the orphanage. Every New Year, the headmistress, who had always felt like a mother to her, would make a seafood stew. The dried scallops and shrimp were the most unforgettable flavors she'd ever tasted. She paused, letting the memory settle before continuing. [Dried scallops: 1100 pounds] [Dried shrimp: 1100 pounds] [Dried squid: 660 pounds] [Dried sea cucumber: 440 pounds] [Nori and kelp: 220 pounds each] The list stretched on for three full pages, covering everything from staples to seasonings, snacks to nutritional supplements. Esther glanced at the total cost—around 30 million dollars. 'This is just the beginning,' she thought, a wry smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. 'If Hugo knew I was burning through his money like this, he'd probably lose it.' The thought of Hugo darkened her expression for a second, but she shook it off. That was the past. What mattered now was survival. She kept scrolling, moving on to the life supplies section: generators, fuel, batteries, solar panels, water purifiers, medical supplies, clothing, weapons... "Weapons," she said the word quietly to herself. In the last apocalypse, she'd survived for 21 days with only a fire axe and a fruit knife, only to end up killed by three scumbags. This time, she'd be ready. But there was a problem: Pocket Ground didn't have much space. A football field might seem large, but cramming enough supplies to survive long-term into 90,000 cubic feet? That was going to take some serious planning. "If only I could expand Pocket Ground..." Esther muttered, and suddenly her eyes lit up. 'Novels. In many time travel stories, Pocket Grounds could be upgraded. But how? With energy? Gemstones? Crystal cores?' she wondered. She glanced down at her hand, where the emerald pendant had once rested, the one Hugo had bought for 3 million. 'Could gemstones be the key to unlocking Pocket Ground's expansion potential?' she thought. 'If that's the case...' Esther quickly brought up the flight details. The plane was making a stop in Bangco City, but the final destination was Myanford in Oklagon City. Originally, she'd planned to lay low in the Valoria Regions and pick up a few local specialties, but now, there was something more urgent. Myanford was the world's primary source of raw emeralds. She pulled up a map and started looking for gemstone mining areas near Myanford. Hpakan, Lonegin, Niangyi… The names jumped out at her. If gemstones could really expand Pocket Ground, she had to go there. "New plan," Esther muttered, creating a fresh document titled: [Three-Month Survival and Upgrade Plan.] [Phase One: Myanford (about 15 days) [Objective: Acquire high-quality gemstones/raw stones, test Pocket Ground upgrade potential [Purchases: Local food, medicine, daily necessities [Accommodation: Short-term rental of a secure apartment, flexible location] [Phase Two: Other Countries in the Valoria Regions (about 45 days) [Thayland: Load up on grains, canned fruit, and basic meds [Vieton: Snag coffee, spices, and instant rice noodle packs [Malayland and New Wingaport: High-tech equipment (solar panels, water purifiers, etc.) [Note: Distribute purchases to avoid suspicion] [Phase Three: Return to Elyssia (about 30 days) [Goal 1: Find and secure a permanent residence [Goal 2: Purchase ready-to-eat food, specialties, and frozen goods (store in large mobile freezers, transfer into Pocket Ground) [Goal 3: Final checks and adjustments] The thought of finding a permanent residence made her fingers hover over the screen for a moment, before she typed a few words: [Backup Location: Air-raid shelter near the old orphanage] Memories flooded her mind—of the small, remote town, the long-abandoned orphanage, and the air-raid shelter hidden behind the woods. When she was eight, she and a few other kids were playing hide-and-seek, and she'd fallen into that hole. It had been pitch black, and she'd cried out, but no one could hear her. Eventually, she'd crawled out on her own, feeling the cold, slick walls as she climbed. She'd never told anyone about it, keeping that secret buried deep. But now, looking back, the shelter's entrance was hidden well. The space inside seemed large, and it was far from the nearest town. 'If I can find it again and make it secure...' Esther thought, her mind already racing with possibilities. "The city's no place to live," she muttered, remembering the last apocalypse—thugs breaking into houses, neighbors fighting over a bag of biscuits, the collapse of social order. The more people, the more danger. The shelter was deep in the mountains, surrounded by only a few scattered villages. The population was low. With the right defenses and camouflage, it could be a safe haven. "But I need a backup plan," she said to herself. "If the shelter doesn't work, other options include: remote mountain houses, islands, underground facilities..." The plane hit a small bump, and the flight attendant's calm voice came over the intercom, reminding everyone to fasten their seatbelts. Esther powered down the tablet and leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes. But her mind was still racing. 'How am I supposed to test the gemstones? Just touch them?' she wondered. 'Or is there some special way? Buying raw stones is a huge gamble. I could blow a fortune on worthless junk. 'Maybe I should start with some finished gemstone jewelry and see if that works...' Once in Myanford, she would need a translator and a guide, but she couldn't let anyone know her real purpose. She could pose as a jewelry dealer or collector. When buying supplies, she would have to do it in batches, renting multiple warehouses and moving everything into Pocket Ground all at once. Large purchases should be made through trade companies, disguised as "exports" or "charity donations." Weapons, though, were another story. Domestic laws were tight, and while there were some gray areas abroad, the risks were sky-high. It would be smarter to focus on defensive tools—things like bows, crossbows, stun guns, and pepper spray. Then there was the knowledge. She made a plan to download every survival manual, farming guide, livestock care document, water and power repair instructions, and even weapon-crafting tutorials she could find. She let out a quiet laugh, glancing out the plane window at the dark sky. "Three months. From a corporate secretary to an apocalypse survival expert. Esther, you really know how to get yourself into crazy situations." But despite the gravity of it all, she found an odd sense of reassurance. This time, unlike the last, when she had only 21 days of frantic, uncertain survival, she had choices. She had a plan. She was prepared. As the plane descended, the lights of Bangco City twinkled below, like scattered diamonds. Esther pulled out her tablet once more and added a final note to her plan: [Ultimate goal: Stay alive. Stay alive and well.] Then, she started browsing survival gear websites, searching for things like "portable water quality tester," "multi-purpose survival knife," and "high-temperature insulation materials." A middle-aged man sitting next to her glanced at the screen and noticed she was looking at the specs of a military-grade telescope. He couldn't resist. "Are you an outdoor enthusiast?" Esther turned to him with a polite but distant smile. "Not really. Just got interested in survival skills recently." "Survival skills?" The man laughed. "Not a lot of young people are into that these days." "Yeah, I guess." Esther shrugged, returning her attention to her screen. "Who knows what tomorrow might bring?" The plane landed in Bangco, and she would have a layover before catching her connecting flight to Oklagon City. The countdown had officially started. Meanwhile, thousands of miles away in Elyssia, Hugo stared at his phone, his eyes narrowing as he saw the red exclamation mark: [Message sent, but rejected by recipient.] His face darkened with frustration. .............................................................................. It was 9:30 PM when Hugo walked into the villa. He loosened his tie, instinctively glancing toward the living room sofa. Normally, at this hour, Esther would either be curled up with a design magazine or working on her laptop. Tonight, the sofa was empty. "Where is she?" he asked Florence Redgrave, the housekeeper, who had come to greet him. Florence, her voice nervous, lowered her gaze. "She left this afternoon. Said... she was going to clear her mind." "Clear her mind?" Hugo paused, processing the information. "Where did she go?" "She didn't say. Just took a suitcase with her." His brow furrowed as he headed upstairs. The door to the master bedroom was slightly ajar. As he entered, he immediately noticed something was off. The closet was open, and half of Esther's clothes were gone. The vanity had fewer bottles than usual, and her jewelry box was missing. He opened the drawers. Her favorite lipsticks and that limited-edition perfume were gone. He stormed over to the closet, pulling it open. Most of her usual clothes were missing. What was left were formal gowns and the expensive pieces he had bought her, the ones she always said were too flashy to wear. Hugo stood there for a moment, taking in the emptiness of the room. Then, he let out a bitter laugh. "Clearing her mind?" he muttered. "Esther, are you going on vacation or moving out?" He sank down onto the bed and picked up a strand of her long hair from the pillow, wrapping it around his finger. A mixture of anger, confusion, and something else stirred in his chest—a feeling he couldn't quite place. "Why didn't you take me with you?" he whispered into the empty room. "Couldn't you at least wait for me to get back so we could go together?" Just then, his phone buzzed. It was his assistant, Julian Scott. "Mr. Beaumont, Ms. Goldstein just sent her resignation to HR," Julian said carefully. "Also, I tracked her. She boarded flight SQ857 to Bangco City at 6 PM today." Hugo's eyes darkened. Now he knew this wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision. She'd planned this. The flight was booked in advance. "I see," he replied quietly, hanging up. His gaze lingered on her contact photo: a picture from last year in Hoklavia. She was bundled up in a thick scarf, her nose red from the cold, but her eyes were smiling, happy as always. He opened their chat, seeing the last message was from him. Beneath it, a small note read: "Message sent, but rejected by recipient." She had blocked him. Hugo took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 'So, this is her game? A tantrum? Playing the runaway card?' He opened his banking app and typed in Esther's account details. It was the same account he'd been sending money to every year on her birthday. For the amount, he tapped in: 700,000,000. He confirmed the transfer and paused, staring at the note section. Slowly, he typed: [Babe, why didn't you take me with you? Have fun, come back soon. Unblock me.] He hit send. Hugo stared at the screen as the transfer confirmation popped up. He imagined her reaction. 'Will she be shocked? Angry? Or, like before, will she pretend to be annoyed while secretly happy, telling me I have "too much money to burn"?' "Esther," he whispered to his phone, "I'm curious to see how far you think you can run." ***** In Bangco City, at Sunvale Airport, Esther stepped out of the terminal around 11 PM local time. The humid air hit her like a wall, a stark contrast to the crisp autumn air back home. Her phone buzzed with a bank notification. She glanced at the screen, counting the zeros before raising an eyebrow. She glanced down, did a double take at all those zeros, and arched an eyebrow. 700 million. The message was so cheesy, she almost rolled her eyes. "Guess he really does have too much money to burn," she muttered under her breath. She hovered her finger over the screen but ultimately decided not to reply. No unblocking, no responding. Instead, she slipped the phone back into her bag and made her way toward the taxi stand. It had been a long day. She was tired and hungry, and this city was unfamiliar. Safety first. She'd find a hotel, settle in, and start planning tomorrow. When it was her turn, a taxi pulled up. The driver was a middle-aged Elyssan man. Noticing she was alone, he asked, "Where to, Miss?" "Find me a safe hotel. Four stars or higher," Esther replied as she slid into the back seat. "Traveling alone?" the driver asked, striking up casual conversation as he drove. "Thayland's pretty safe, but you should still be careful at night, especially when you're by yourself." "Yeah," Esther answered briefly, not in the mood for small talk. But the driver wasn't deterred. "Are you from Elyssia? First time in Bangco? What's on your list—Grand Palace, Royal Shrine, the floating markets?" Esther gave short responses, her eyes glued to the window. The streets of Bangco were alive with lights, cars, and motorcycles weaving through the traffic. The air smelled like a mix of spices and exhaust. This city was completely foreign to her. 'What would it look like in three months?' she wondered. 'Would the deep freeze really reach a place like this? How cold could it actually get?' She didn't know. Last time, she had only survived the beginning of the disaster back home. Extreme weather would hit everywhere, and no one would be safe. The taxi pulled up to a five-star hotel. Esther paid the fare, leaving a generous tip. "Thanks," she said. The driver handed her a business card. "Name's Daniel Ezra. If you need a ride, just give me a call. I know this city like the back of my hand. I can take you wherever you need to go." Esther took the card and nodded, slipping it into her pocket. Once she checked in, the first thing she did was lock the door, pull all the curtains shut, and then thoroughly inspect the room. No cameras, no suspicious marks. She put her suitcase aside without bothering to unpack, pulling out only her toiletries and pajamas from her Pocket Ground. After a quick shower, she collapsed onto the bed, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over her. Her body was drained. But it was her mind that felt the heavier load. Still, there was no time to dwell on it. She grabbed her tablet, opened the shopping list, and began refining the plan for the next day. First thing on the agenda: find a reliable middleman. She was alone, the language barrier was a problem, and she didn't know the market well enough. Big purchases could raise flags. It was smarter to find someone local, someone trustworthy who could keep things low-key. 'Daniel... Maybe he could help,' Esther thought. 'But I have to tread carefully.' Next: securing a warehouse. She needed a temporary space to store her goods before secretly transferring them into her Pocket Ground. The location had to be remote enough to avoid suspicion, but still accessible. Finally: logistics. Some items might need to be sourced from elsewhere, like gemstones from Myanford. Speaking of gemstones, Esther sat up and pulled out a small piece of emerald she'd taken from a villa auction. It wasn't much, just a scrap leftover from one of Hugo's bids. The quality was okay, but not exceptional. She held it in her palm, closed her eyes, and focused, trying to feel the energy of her Pocket Ground. Nothing changed. "Is it the method I'm using, or is the material just not good enough?" she murmured, slipping the emerald scrap back into her Pocket Ground. "I'll need better material." Lying back down, she closed her eyes, forcing herself to sleep. Tomorrow was going to be busy. ***** At six in the morning, Esther woke up right on schedule. Her years as a secretary had instilled a strict routine, and no matter where she was, that wouldn't change. She dressed in a simple outfit—gray T-shirt, black pants, sneakers, a baseball cap, and non-prescription glasses. Standing in front of the mirror, she barely recognized the woman staring back at her. No makeup, no designer clothes, and none of the polished, graceful demeanor she'd maintained around Hugo. Now, she looked like a regular backpacker. 'Well,' she told herself. 'It's safer this way.' She grabbed breakfast—noodles and iced milkshake. It wasn't bad. She made a mental note to stock up on more local Thayland foods. It was good to change things up every once in a while. At 7:30, she called Daniel. "Hey, Daniel. It's the girl from the airport last night. I need a ride today. Are you free?" she asked. "Yeah, of course!" Daniel responded enthusiastically. "Which hotel are you at? I'll be there in half an hour." While waiting, Esther used her phone to search for wholesale markets in Bangco City. Food markets, household goods markets, pharmaceutical markets, anbd so on. She jotted down the addresses. By 8:00, Daniel arrived. He did a double-take when he saw her outfit, but didn't ask any questions. He just smiled and greeted her. "Where to today?" "I'm not hitting any tourist spots," Esther said as she climbed into the car and shut the door. "Daniel, I need to check out some wholesale markets. Buy in bulk. Are you familiar with them? Know any reliable middlemen?" Daniel glanced at her through the rearview mirror, his eyes sharp with curiosity. "You in business?" "Sort of," Esther replied vaguely. "I'm buying Thayland products to sell back home. First time doing this, and I don't know the market too well, so I'm worried about getting scammed." Daniel nodded knowingly. "Yeah, the wholesale market can be a real jungle. But I know a guy, Mike Kingsley. He's been doing this for over a decade. He's solid, takes care of his clients. Want me to take you to him?" "Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks, Daniel." The drive took them to the outskirts of Bangco City. As Daniel drove, he explained, "Mike specializes in food and household goods. He's been around forever. A lot of foreigners trust him. Fair prices, no cheap stuff." "Is it safe?" Esther asked, her mind focused on security. "I'm planning to buy a lot, and I don't want to draw attention." Daniel laughed. "Don't worry. Mike's tight-lipped. And bulk buying isn't unusual here. A lot of international merchants stock up in this area." Half an hour later, they arrived at a massive wholesale market. Daniel parked, and they navigated through the crowded maze of stalls. It was bigger and more chaotic than Esther had imagined. Stalls were packed together, goods piled high, and the air was filled with haggling in various languages. The smell of spices, seafood, fruits, and sweat mixed in the air. Daniel led her through the crowd with ease and finally stopped at a quieter corner. There was a small office with a sign reading "MK Trading." "Mike!" Daniel called out. A middle-aged man with dark skin and a lean build emerged, smiling when he saw Daniel. He greeted him in fluent Elyssan. "Hey, Daniel. What's going on today?" "I've got a client for you," Daniel said, stepping aside to introduce Esther. "This is Ms. Goldstein. She's looking to make some purchases." Mike's gaze shifted to Esther, polite and professional. "What kind of items are you looking for, Ms. Goldstein? And how much are you planning to buy?" Esther didn't answer immediately. She looked around the office, then said, "Can we go inside to talk?" "Of course," Mike stepped aside and motioned for them to enter. The office was small but tidy. Certificates and photos hung on the walls, and a few ledgers were stacked on the desk. Esther noticed a small safe tucked in the corner. They all sat down, and Mike poured them coffee. Esther took off her cap and glasses, then got straight to the point. "Mr. Kingsley, I need to buy a large quantity of food and household goods. "The most important thing is discretion. I don't want to attract any unnecessary attention." Mike set his cup down, his expression becoming serious. "How much are we talking about?" Esther pulled out her tablet, brought up the list she'd refined the night before, and handed it to him. "This is the preliminary list." Mike took the tablet, scrolling through it. His brow furrowed, and his expression became more intense. He looked up at Esther, then back at the list, his face growing more somber. "Ms. Goldstein," he said carefully, setting the tablet down, "this is no small order. Are you sure about this?" "Absolutely," Esther replied calmly. "I have my own channels and uses for these goods. I can't get into the specifics, but money's not an issue. I'll pay upfront. "All I need you to do is handle the purchasing, quality control, and storage. You don't need to worry about anything else." Mike was quiet for a moment, clearly processing what she'd said. Finally, he asked, "When do you need it?" "Split it into batches over two months," she said. "But the first batch needs to come in fast—preferably within a week." "And the warehouse?" "I need something at least 10,000 square feet, big enough for big trucks. Preferably in a quieter area, but still easy to get to. Got any recommendations?" Mike nodded. "Yeah, I know a few warehouse owners. I can show you some places." He paused, then added, "With this kind of volume, I can get you the best price, but logistics and storage will be extra. "Some stuff might need to come from other areas, so that could take longer." "That works," Esther said. "Just make sure the quality's solid." "You don't have to worry about that," Mike said, flashing a smile. "Been in the game for over ten years. Reputation's everything." The rest of the day was spent checking out wholesale markets. Esther saw everything: grains, crates of canned fruit, vacuum-sealed meats, dried seafood. Mike was a pro, inspecting products before talking prices. Fluent in Thay, his bargaining was fast, but his face never gave away a thing. At noon, they checked out a warehouse Mike had suggested. It was on the edge of town, around 16,000 square feet, with a basic cement structure and minimal security. The rent was pretty reasonable, so Esther went ahead and signed a three-month lease right then and there. In the afternoon, they went back to the markets. Esther spotted things she'd never seen back home: ready-to-eat curries, Thay instant noodles, exotic spices, herbal packs, even boxes of vitamins and over-the-counter meds. "Some meds have restrictions," Mike said, eyeing her. "But I can hook you up with reliable suppliers for over-the-counter stuff." "Got it," Esther replied, making mental notes. She also checked out solar panels, generators, and batteries. Prices were cheaper in Thailand, but the quality varied. Mike helped her pick out a few trusted suppliers. "Ms. Goldstein," Mike finally asked, his curiosity getting the best of him, "what exactly are you using all this for?" "Backup," Esther replied flatly. "I'm opening a resort in a remote area. Power's an issue, so I need a reliable setup." Mike raised an eyebrow, skeptical, but didn't push. By evening, they were back at Mike's office. Esther adjusted her shopping list based on what she'd seen, adding a few specialty items. "Can the first batch be at the warehouse in three days?" she asked. "Yeah," Mike said, after a quick calculation. "Grains, canned goods, and instant food are in stock. I'll start arranging everything tomorrow." Esther nodded and pulled out her bank card. "I'll put down a 5 million Thaycoin deposit now. I'll pay the balance after each batch is delivered and inspected. Sound good?" "Perfect," Mike said, taking the card and processing the payment. His eyes flickered when he saw the balance, but he said nothing. By the time everything was wrapped up, it was nearly seven o'clock. Esther was exhausted, but there was a quiet satisfaction in her chest. At least the first step was done. Daniel drove her back to the hotel. As she stared out at the city's skyline, she had a thought. 'Maybe this strange city could be the fresh start I she need.' ***** By the time she got back to the hotel, it was already 8 PM. Esther soaked in a hot bath to unwind. She'd just gotten out when her phone rang. It was an unfamiliar number, but the location read Elyssia. Frowning, she answered. "Having fun?" Hugo's low voice came through, cool and emotionless. Esther didn't reply. "Why haven't you answered my texts?" Hugo continued. "Is 700 million not enough for you?" Esther walked over to the window and gazed at the city lights. She couldn't help but laugh, though the sound was bitter. "Right now, all I want is money." There was a brief silence on the other end. Then her phone buzzed—bank notification. She checked it: 3,000,000,000 The note read: [I've got money to burn.] Esther gripped the phone, her fingers tight. She took a deep breath and said, "How much more do you have? Give it all to me." A chuckle came from Hugo's end, low and almost amused. "Esther, you really are greedy." "Are you gonna give it to me?" "Just wait." Ten minutes later, her phone buzzed again. Esther froze when she saw the number. 17,000,000,000. 17 billion. Adding it to the previous 700 million and three billion, she had 20.7 billion—almost half of Beaumont Group's net profit for the past six months. "How do you see me?" she whispered, her voice shaky. On the other end, Hugo stood by his office window, looking out over the city lights, almost as if he could see Esther's stunned expression. He let out a soft laugh. "It's just money. Small change," he said, his tone almost affectionate. "If you want it, I'll give it to you." Esther closed her eyes. She knew Hugo too well. This arrogant man never lied. If he said it was "small change," it was. If he said he'd give her whatever she wanted, he would. But she didn't get it. 'If he cares about me this much, why did he let Marianne send me away last time? Why couldn't he even break up with me face-to-face?' "Fine," she said, her voice cold. "Looks like you're finally waking up." A low laugh came from Hugo's end. Then her phone buzzed again. 170 million. The note read: [Pocket money.] Esther didn't respond. She just hung up. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was pale, and a mocking smile slowly spread across her lips. "Esther Goldstein, look at you," she murmured, "you've really taken 'being kept' to a whole new level, huh? 20 billion... enough to buy a small country." 'But what is money worth in a world that is ending?' Esther thought to herself. 'Just a pile of worthless paper.' She turned and walked to the bed, pulling out her tablet to continue refining her procurement plan. Gems from Myanford, supplies from Thailand, bunkers back home... Time was running out. She couldn't afford to play Hugo's little game of "chase me and throw money at me." She had to survive. She had to make it through this. 'As for Hugo,' she thought, 'if the end really does come, and if he survives, and if, by some miracle, he remembers me...' Esther shook her head, brushing the thought aside. 'Focus on the present,' she told herself. Outside, the city buzzed on. Inside her hotel room, Esther was quietly preparing for an escape and survival no one would ever know about.

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