Apocalypse Rebirth: Making Billions With My Fortune-Telling Skill

Xavier’s grip on April’s shoulders tightened, his knuckles straining as he stared down at her.

He was a man accustomed to absolute control, yet this tiny maid in an apron was looking up at him like he was the one trapped in a corner.

​”Don’t play games with me,” Xavier hissed, his voice vibrating with danger. ”You have exactly ten seconds to tell me how you knew about Chen and the capital harbor before I have my men take you apart.”

​April didn’t even blink. ”You can threaten me all you want, Mr. Reed, but your ten seconds are running out faster than your company’s lifespan. I only gave you that appetizer about your secretary and the phone call to hook you. Consider it a free sample. But the main course? The information that actually saves a cornerstone of your empire? That has a price.”

​Xavier’s jaw clenched. He was deeply skeptical. Everything in his logical, business-minded brain screamed that this was a setup, a deeply layered corporate trap. But the terrifying truth was that her words had already proven flawless.

He could try to break her, but if she got upset and the next piece of information she gave was false, he would waste precious time.

​He stared into her calm, unwavering eyes, calculating his options. She worked here at the Morgan estate; she was a servant. Even if she was trying to play him, there was nowhere in this world a person could flee in the next twelve hours where the Reed family’s shadow couldn’t reach them. He was that confident.

​”How much?” Xavier demanded, his voice dropping into a cold, transactional tone.

​April paused, her mind already working. Since this was her very first time charging a client, she knew she shouldn’t overplay her hand. If she asked for a billion straight away, he would think she was a lunatic or a fraud, and it would only double his suspicion.

She needed to start smaller. Once he realized how terrifyingly valuable her predictions were, he would come crawling back on his own, and that’s when she would bleed his bank accounts dry.

​”Ten million,” April said flatly.

​Xavier’s dark eyes widened slightly.

​Before he could speak, April leaned slightly closer, her voice laced with a cold, pragmatic edge.

”And before you think I’m trying to rob you, Mr. Reed, just take a second to think about what you stand to lose the moment things go completely haywire tomorrow morning. Ten million is pocket change compared to the bankruptcy of your entire shipping line.”

​Xavier didn’t even need a second to think about it. If something happened to his shipping line, he would lose hundreds of millions. Ten million was a laughably small price to pay for security.

​Releasing her shoulder, Xavier reached into his charcoal suit jacket, pulled out a sleek, personalized checkbook, and a fountain pen.

Without a single hint of hesitation, he quickly scribbled down the figures, slashed his elegant signature across the bottom, and tore the check free.

​He stretched his hand out, holding the piece of paper between his fingers. But just as April reached for it, Xavier sharply snatched it back, pulling it just out of her reach.

​”The information first,” he commanded, his eyes burning into hers. ”Tell me what you know, and the check is yours.”

​April smirked, entirely unbothered by his little power play. She rested her back comfortably against the wall and delivered the core of her reading.

​”The mainframe breach tonight will cause a total system blackout while you are mid-air, disabling your ground communication links. By tomorrow morning, the panic will cause your stocks to plummet by 40%, and your rivals will leverage that to seize your shipping dock.”

​Xavier’s breath caught as the brutal reality of the trap unfolded.

​”The best course of action,” April continued, her voice cool and steady, ”is to cancel your flight, freeze the mainframe manually from the secure offline server, and sell off a targeted portion of your vulnerable stocks right away before the market opens. Let the artificial panic die down. That way, you keep absolute control of your shares, and you won’t lose a single inch of your shipping dock. But...” She tilted her head, her smile turning sharp. ”If you choose to disregard my words, you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

​Xavier stared at the check in his hand, a heavy silence hanging between them in the dim hallway.

”And how can I trust your words?” he asked, his voice tight. ”How do I know this isn’t a gamble you manufactured?”

​With a lightning-fast motion, April snatched the check cleanly out of his fingers.

​”Then don’t trust my words, Mr. Reed,” she said, folding the paper and slipping it safely into her uniform pocket. ”Just trust your instincts as a businessman.”

​She let out a soft, low chuckle that seemed entirely too cynical for a twenty-six-year-old maid, and then stepped past his frozen frame.

”Hope to see you again soon, Mr. Reed.”

​Xavier didn’t try to stop her this time. He watched her retreating back until she vanished around the corner, his mind completely re-evaluating everything he knew about the corporate landscape. Without wasting another second, he pulled out his phone and made the call to cancel his midnight flight.

​On the other side of the kitchen corridor, April could barely contain the fierce surge of adrenaline rushing through her veins.

​Ten million dollars.

She had acted so tough, like she had been doing this for years, but truth be told, she was a little terrified when he got angry and slammed her against the wall. Her heart wasn’t made of bricks, you know.

And then, there was the check. That swipe was excellent.

And now, she had ten million dollars at her disposal.

​This was her very first payout, and it was a massive fortune. With this money, she didn’t have to plan to rob a bank or worry about starvation.

Tomorrow morning, her first priority would be sneaking out of this house, using the money she got from Matilda’s stash to buy a decent dress to wear, and then going straight to the bank.

She was going to open a private account and deposit this check. From there, she could officially begin purchasing her fortress and hoarding massive crates of medical supplies, canned goods, and fuel.

​She patted her pocket, ensuring the paper was secure. Things were going smoothly, and she had the system to thank.

She wondered how to improve her proficiency so she could read more than three fortunes a day. It would really help her out.

She was just thinking about it, walking back toward the main service hallway, when her eyes instantly locked onto a figure walking ahead of her.

​It was the star of the evening. The long-lost daughter of the Morgan family.

​Liora.

​April slowed her pace, watching the girl from a distance. Liora was breathtakingly beautiful, with soft, radiant blonde hair that cascaded perfectly over her shoulders, and a delicate, fragile build that practically forced people to want to protect her.

In her past life, Liora had retained that pristine, beautiful hair and immaculate skin even years into the apocalypse, simply because she was one of the chosen who always had powerful, heavily armed men fighting to keep her safe and comfortable.

And... it was one party April could never get into. That was why she stuck to Lena, Cai, and the rest. And then what happened?

​April reached up, casually touching a stray strand of her own hair near the corner of her face. Beautiful hair, huh?

​Right now, Liora still had her perfect life, and she wouldn’t even have to worry about cutting her hair off when the world ended because she would never have to swing a weapon.

But April didn’t feel a single drop of envy this time. In fact, she felt an amused sense of detachment.

She didn’t want to be a protagonist anyway, and she didn’t plan to go outside and fight zombies like a maniac either.

She had worked herself to death in her previous life. This time, she was going to relax in a luxurious, impenetrable bunker, eating hot gourmet meals while the world burned.

​She quietly followed Liora down the hallway. The blonde girl was heading toward the residential wing of the mansion, likely going to her newly assigned bedroom to rest after the overwhelming welcoming speech and having to deal with so many rich people praising her endlessly.

​Just ahead, April spotted another maid carrying a heavy, expensive designer garment bag and a tray of refreshments toward the same room.

The maid was sweating, her posture tense with anxiety. After all, this was the Morgan family’s long-lost biological daughter—nobody knew what kind of hidden temper or secret, spoiled malice she might possess behind that innocent face.

​April quickened her step and came up right beside the nervous maid, extending her hands smoothly.

​”Let me help you with that,” April offered, her voice light and perfectly helpful.

​The maid looked at her, practically sagging with relief. She gladly handed over the heavy garment bag and the tray without a single argument.

”Oh, thank you, April! You’re a lifesaver. Knock quietly, okay? Madam said she’s very delicate.”

​”Don’t worry,” April murmured, a cold, unreadable glint flashing across her eyes as she balanced the tray and took the garment bag. ”I’ll handle the young mistress perfectly.”