Apocalypse Rebirth: Making Billions With My Fortune-Telling Skill

Suddenly, all the dim lights completely went off. The heavy velvet curtains parted completely, and a massive, ultra-high-definition holographic screen flared to life above the podium.

​The digital display featured a rotating, three-dimensional architectural layout of the final lot: a sprawling, completely isolated mountain ridge on the city’s northern perimeter.

The display mapped out the current infrastructure plans for the entire area, showing the jagged, defensible surroundings that would come along with the land deed.

​It was literally perfect. It was everything April had ever wanted for her safe house. A massive expanse of surrounding land that she would fully own, heavy industrial barricades to strictly restrict entry, and a luxurious duplex carved right into the hillside.

​But what made her heart give a violent, heavy throb against her ribs was what the auctioneer began to detail as he stepped up to the microphone.

​”Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached the absolute finale of our evening,” the auctioneer announced, his voice echoing with immense reverence as he gestured to the rotating blueprint. ”Lot Number Fourteen. A highly restricted, confidential real estate deed and architectural plan for a deep-hillside bunker fortress. This structure is entirely standard and state-of-the-art. It features an ongoing dome construction plan engineered with reinforced ballistic plating that can withstand nuclear weapons, heavy explosions, and direct missile strikes.”

​The entire hall instantly erupted into a sea of frantic whispers. The elites and corporate tycoons were staring at a literal gold mine of absolute security.

In a world growing increasingly volatile, a structure like this was priceless.

​”Because of the unprecedented military-grade architecture and the vast territory included,” the auctioneer paused, letting his sharp gaze sweep across the room. ”The starting bid for Lot Fourteen begins at a whopping four hundred million dollars.”

​April’s breath hitched completely. Her fingers clenched tightly around her bidding paddle, her hand suddenly feeling clammy against the smooth plastic.

​Four hundred million for the starting bid.

​She did some rapid mental math. After her shopping sprees and the ten million she had just dropped on the Blessed Beast, her account still had about a billion.

To win this, she may have to spend practically every single cent she possessed in her account. And looking around the room, more than half of the people in the crowd were sitting up straight, their hands already moving toward their paddles. The sheer volume of competition was staggering.

​If her current liquidity wasn’t enough to secure the win, she would just have to borrow the remaining funds from the three titans sitting right beside her.

She would gladly repay it with more future readings later—heck, she might even have to formally disclose the specific details of the impending apocalypse if the price tag became too astronomical to force their checkbooks open.

There was no room for pride when a nuclear-proof fortress was on the line. In case the military decided to result in bombing—that was a usual occurrence in the past since the zombies filled particular areas far too much—she would need to be assured that her safe house would remain standing.

Her heart was racing, her blood was boiling and cold sweat began to bead on her forehead.

She must have this fortress.

​”Four hundred million!” a loud voice from the front row called out, immediately kicking off the bloodbath.

​”Four hundred and ten million!” another tycoon countered instantly.

​April took a deep, steadying breath, her clammy hand tightening on her paddle as the numbers began to climb at a terrifying velocity.

She had to bide her time.

Nat noticed the way her breathing had changed. Alexander noticed the way she clutched her paddle more tightly. And Xavier says the beads of sweat breaking out on her forehead.

Samuel simply took out his handkerchief and helped her dab the sweat from her head, breaking her from her intense thought. She jolted and turned to look at them.

They all had their attention on her.

”I can tell you want that lot, Sweetheart.” Nat claimed. ”Want me to get it for ya?”

April blinked and then caught her breath. She needed to take in more breaths for her racing heart to calm down.

”But then you’d have to marry me.” He whispered, his lips curling. ”What about it?”

”It’s fine.” She said and looked ahead.

”Seven hundred million,” someone at the back called out. The price was rising so quickly. At this rate, it would clock a billion.

She took out her phone, taking a look at the debit notification from when Samuel made the transaction to pay for the divine beast. She had over $1,300,000,000 in approximation.

”Do you need help, Miss April?” Xavier asked and she placed her phone back.

”No, it’s fine. I can handle it,” she said, adjusting on her seat. The adrenaline and anticipation was driving her uncomfortable. ”for now.”

”One billion!” Someone called and April bit her bottom lip. Maybe this was the time to ask them to start lending her a few hundred million.

The crowd that were enthusiastically bidding had lessened and they were a bit skeptical about continuing. The person who had bidded a whooping sum of one billion dollars without batting an eye was a fat guy sitting at the back, his golden rings on all fingers and heavy golden chain around his neck glinting with the glow of the holographic image of the bunker, flaunting his wealth.

It was clear he just wanted to have a rich super cool hide out.

”Who’s that?” April asked, sizing up her opponent, her grip tightening by the second around her paddle. He was one hurdle she had to pass in order to get what she wanted.

”That is Gerald Pearson, the mining tycoon,” Samuel answered smoothly, his voice dropping to a low, analytical whisper. ”He recently acquired three massive lithium mines in the western continent. His liquidity is immense, but more importantly... he is Madam Morgan’s direct older brother.”

​April’s eyes narrowed into sharp slits. Gerald Pearson.

​She glanced back two rows. Madam Morgan was no longer biting her finger; she was looking at her brother with a smug, triumphant grin, before casting a venomous, mocking glare straight toward April.

It was painfully obvious. Madam Morgan had whispered in her brother’s ear, using his bottomless pockets to ensure that whatever April wanted tonight, the Pearson and Morgan names would completely crush her under the weight of their capital.

They wanted to humiliate the runaway maid on the grandest stage possible.

​”One billion dollars is the current bid!” the auctioneer shouted, the hammer hovering in his hand as the crowd went dead silent. ”Do I hear one billion ten million?”