Apocalypse Rebirth: Making Billions With My Fortune-Telling Skill

Beside them, Nat didn’t pull his hand away immediately. His fingers tightened by a subtle fraction around April’s wrist as he watched Xavier’s warm, unshakeable presence ground her.

A quiet, unreadable flick of heat passed through his eyes behind his dark lenses, but he held his composure, his jaw setting into a hard line.

​There was no lazy smirk on his face anymore. No cynical drawl.

​”Sweetheart,” Nat said, his voice dropping into a deep, sharp tone that carried absolute finality. ”I told you before—you don’t have to do anything, and you don’t have to be anything. Let Xavier play the saint if he wants. I’ll happily be the villain for you.”

​Nat stepped forward, his tall frame blocking out the warm light of the foyer as he looked down at Eleanor’s weeping, blood-soaked form.

​”Give me the word,” Nat whispered, his dark eyes fixing on April. ”And I will personally ensure every single person in this room experiences three times the hell, the hunger, and the agony they forced on you. They won’t die quickly. I’ll make sure they pray for the apocalypse just to end it.”

​From the edge of the foyer, Samuel’s hands clenched at his sides. Adjusting his thin-rimmed glasses, his quiet, attentive demeanor was completely replaced by a cold, protective rage.

As April’s assistant—the one who spent endless hours coordinating her logistics, organizing her private stockpiles, and ensuring her daily comfort—seeing the sharp, untouchable woman he served broken into this state of raw, bleeding agony made something twist violently in his chest.

​”Miss April,” Samuel spoke up, his voice steady, disciplined, and deeply grounded. ”You do not need to stay in this filthy place any longer. Let us handle the disposal.”

​Hearing the weight of authority surrounding April—the Golden Dragon, and a high-tier corporate tycoon aligning behind her—Victor’s fragile mind completely shattered.

​Panicking desperately, Victor thrashed against the zip-ties binding him to his chair, pointing a trembling, hysterical finger at Eleanor.

​”E-Eleanor!” Victor howled, trying frantically to strip himself of guilt. ”Is it true?! Did you really steal my child?! All these years I have treated you well but this is what you did?!” He began to thrust even more. ”What did you do to make me blind this whole time? Did you put a spell on me?!” He turned his gaze back to April, his body trembling and his voice freaking. ”I didn’t know! My daughter, listen to me! I didn’t know anything about the fact that she stole you away! She tricked me! She tricked all of us into thinking you were dead! I’m a victim here too! She manipulated everything—”

​April’s breath hitched. A fresh surge of pure disgust burned through her veins.

​A victim?

​Before Xavier or Nat could react, April stepped forward. She didn’t use the trigger. She whipped the metal butt of her silver gun across Victor’s jaw with brutal, terrifying force and broke it.

​”Shut your filthy mouth!” April snarled, her voice echoing violently against the marble tiles as Victor’s head snapped sideways, blood and a shattered tooth flying from his lips.

​Victor shrieked, weeping pathetically as his chair nearly tipped over.

​”You dare play the victim?!” April sneered in quiet, hateful disgust, her dark eyes flashing with pure rage as she pointed the bloody grip of the gun at his face. ”You cheated on your pregnant wife! You brought a bastard child into her home! You sat by passively and watched them poison Beatrice, starve Emily, and lock her in an attic until she tried to hang herself! You are not a victim, Victor Gabriel—you are the cowardly spineless root that allowed this entire hell to grow!”

​She took a ragged breath, stepping closer as Victor cowered in pure terror. ”If you say one more word trying to wash your hands clean, I won’t just shoot you—I will split your head open right here on this floor!”

​The foyer fell into a dead, terrified silence. Even Clara and Johan held their breath, completely paralyzed by the raw violence radiating from April.

​Xavier stepped up smoothly beside her once more, his broad hand coming up to rest flat against her back, steadying her heavy, uneven breaths.

He had already understood the situation with a little more glance. And the dead body on the floor... the woman he did not recognize... must’ve been the sick woman April’s twin wanted to have with all she had.

​”Samuel,” Xavier commanded flatly, never taking his eyes off April. ”Have the medics secure the woman’s body with full dignity and transport her to our private facility.”

​”Right away, Boss,” Samuel bowed his head, immediately stepping out to coordinate the detail.

​Xavier then turned his dark, unblinking gaze toward Nat. ”Take this household into your lower sector. Keep them alive, locked away, and isolated. No light. No comfort. Let them rot in the dark until April decides how their final sentence will be executed.”

​Nat’s face split into a dark, lethal smile. ”With pleasure.” He snapped his fingers. ”You heard him, boys. Time to store the trash in a place that suits them.”

Nat’s enforcers moved like cold, efficient machines. They yanked the four zip-tied chairs backward, dragging the screaming family across the marble tiles toward the side exits.

​”You can’t do this! You don’t know who I am!” Clara shrieked, her voice tearing as her heels scraped uselessly against the stone. ”I have connections! My friends—my mother’s social circle—they’ll notice I’m gone! You’ll pay for this!”

​”My family will not stand for this!” Johan roared through his blood-stained teeth, thrashing wildly against the guards pinning his shoulders. ”The Le Moreno name isn’t something you can just erase! They will find you! They won’t let you get away with this!”

​Victor merely wept, his broken jaw sagging as he made pitiful, wet gargling sounds, while Eleanor dragged her bleeding leg along the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

​SLAM.

​The heavy doors slammed shut behind them, cutting off their desperate shouting mid-sentence.

​Just like that, the grand foyer of the Gabriel manor was empty. Only the faint smell of gunpowder, shattered marble dust, and the heavy draft from the broken front door remained.

Even the maids had scurried away at the second gun shot. They knew the family was done for, and they sure as hell did not want to be dragged into their mess.