Apocalypse Rebirth: Making Billions With My Fortune-Telling Skill

Before April even reached the archway, the low, tense hum of overlapping voices echoed up the corridor.

​”Who invited you here?” Nat’s deep, irritated drawl bounced off the high ceiling.

​”I’m sorry, was there an official invitation of sorts?” Dr. Oliver Baxter replied, his voice flat and completely devoid of guilt. ”I merely arrived to resume my daily survey.”

​Alexander leaned back in his chair, tapping his watch with a skeptical look. ”It’s seven in the morning, Dr. Oliver. You can’t be that punctual and expect us to believe it’s a coincidence.”

​”I bet he’s been spying,” Nat scoffed, resting his arms over his chest as he glared at the doctor. ”Stalker much,”

​Oliver raised a hand, casually tilting his glasses up by the bridge with a single finger.

”I simply came for clinical observation. Whatever meeting you are planning to conduct or whatever organization is taking place, I was not informed. However, since I am already present, I might as well partake in it.”

​Nat clicked his tongue in deep annoyance. ”Wow, a stalker and a freeloader. The brilliant surgeon isn’t so brilliant after all.”

Oliver could not understand why Nat was particularly irritated by his appearance today. He was not half as annoyed when he showed up in front of April the previous day.

Unless, what they were about to discuss was of such great importance that he despised the fact that an outsider was present.

Oliver decided to take that down swiftly, scribbling across his notepad.

​Across the long table, Xavier and Samuel were already seated, impeccably dressed and composed, deliberately ignoring the ridiculous squabble before them.

​Oliver finished scribbling down, adjusted his collar, and looked at Nat with an unbothered, analytical glint in his eye. ”In any case, I may not know what is about to transpire, but if Miss April, the primary subject of my research, does not explicitly ask me to leave, I see no logical reason why I should listen to the rest of you.”

​The petty debate died down instantly as the sound of April’s footsteps resonated through the archway.

​Every head at the table turned.

​April stepped into the dining hall, her brown eyes sweeping over the assembled men—Xavier, Nat, Alexander, Samuel, and the uninvited doctor—with cool, unshakeable authority.

She did not know why the doctor was here but given the character trait she had observed, it would not be easy to ask him to excuse them.

Besides, she already disclosed the coming apocalypse to him so he was also in on this... to some extent.

​”Good morning. It seems everyone is here... Even the uninvited.” April stated cleanly and everyone’s eyes went to Oliver who paid no heed to the call out. She pulled out the head chair at the mahogany table set aside for her as the one who summoned this meeting and sat down. ”Shall we begin?”

They all settled down, their focus locked onto her.

”I called this meeting in regard to the incoming zombie apocalypse,” April stated cleanly and the temperature in the room instantly plunged into dead silence.

Every man at the table straightened up. When April spoke about the apocalypse, there was no room for skepticism or casual disinterest.

​”The original timeline has changed,” April continued, her dark eyes locking onto each of them in turn. ”We no longer have forty-one days to prepare. The timeline has jumped forward... And thus, the apocalypse will hit in twenty-one days.”

​A collective wave of shock rippled through the dining hall.

​Alexander blinked rapidly, his jaw dropping slightly. Xavier’s dark brows pulled together into a sharp, tight line, while Samuel’s pen froze mid-air above his tablet. Even Dr. Oliver Baxter’s analytical composure wavered as he pushed his glasses up his nose, his eyes widening behind the lenses.

​”How is that possible?” Alexander blurted out, leaning forward. ”What happened? What changed?!”

​”As much as I would love to give you a full breakdown, I can’t,” April said flatly, keeping her clinical mask firmly in place. ”Just know that the timeline has been pushed forward. Something within our collective actions has accelerated the world line. I don’t know every single detail of why or how it happened, but it is coming far sooner than expected.”

​She leaned her elbows on the mahogany table, lacing her fingers together. ”Which means we have to double our efforts. We need to be twice as aggressive with hoarding supplies, securing our assets, and finishing out safe houses.”

​She turned her head, giving Nat a sharp, meaningful look. ”And for those of you working on shelters, everything must be fully operational before those twenty-one days elapse. If not, the end of the world will catch you completely unprepared.”

​Alexander let out a low, breathy exhale, running a hand through his hair. ”This is... terrifyingly ominous. But if it’s coming from you, then it’s absolute.”

​Xavier leaned back, his deep voice cutting through the heavy air. ”April. Does this mean we have to carefully mind our actions from now on? Given that something we did along the line altered the timeline, could another move draw it even closer?”

Xavier... always one to think ahead.

​April shook her head firmly. ”No. Nothing you do from now on will change it again.”

​At least, that’s what the system guaranteed, she added silently to herself. I just have to trust its word.

​While the rest of the room digested the overwhelming pressure of the new countdown, Nat leaned back in his chair, a wide, dangerous grin spreading across his face.

​”Well, isn’t this exciting?” Nat drawled, his eyes sparkling with dark amusement. ”It doesn’t really change the endgame, does it? We just keep doing what we’ve been doing this whole time—only at a much faster, lethal pace. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

​April gave him a concise nod. ”Yes. I just said that.”

​She paused, taking a slight breath as she brought up the next logistical conflict. ”And because of this tight timeframe, the international cooking competition can only run for four days instead of seven. As selfish as I may be, I refuse to pull your attention and security away from the most critical fortification tasks just for the sake of securing my own food reserves.”

​”I don’t see a problem with keeping it at seven days, though,” Alexander spoke up smoothly, offering a confident smile.

​April raised a brow. ”What?”

​”He’s right, April,” Xavier chimed in, his tone smooth, decisive, and unyielding. ”We do not need to shorten the duration of the event. We can easily be present and not present at the same time. We have top-tier security lieutenants and logistics teams to act as overseers for the competition venue. All that matters is that the event runs continuously, and that you are given absolute, first-priority access to every single dish prepared.”

​April pursed her lips, staring at the formidable line of men sitting around her table.

​Seriously... these men.

​They didn’t just accept a world-ending countdown jumping forward by three weeks—they immediately restructured their multi-billion-dollar empires to make sure she still got her Michelin-star meals without missing a single beat.

”Fine,” April conceded, her voice regaining its smooth, unflinching composure. ”Seven days it is. But there is still an issue regarding this cooking competition I would like to address...”