Apocalypse Rebirth: Making Billions With My Fortune-Telling Skill

"I’m not asking you to make up your mind tonight, and I’m not playing a game," Nat murmured, his thumb trailing down from her cheek to lightly rest against the side of her neck, right above the silver chain.

His eyes gleamed with an absolute, terrifying certainty. "I just want you to know where I stand. When the world goes to hell in three weeks, everybody else is going to be fighting for survival, for power, or for land. But me? I’m fighting for you. So get used to it, sweetheart."

​He didn’t force the moment any further than it had already gone. Instead, he slowly drew his hand back, sliding it smoothly into his trouser pocket while keeping his intense gaze locked onto her face.

​April stood completely frozen under the cool moonlight, her dark eyes wide as she processed the sheer, unadulterated weight of his words.

She recalled the vision she had seen of him during the apocalypse, sitting alone, looking up towards the hill where her hillside fortress probably rested and just... waiting. Waiting for a specific date for something to happen.

She still couldn’t grasp what he was waiting for, why he was being patient or anything else... but she was certain now that it definitely had to do with her.

Was she going to make him a promise in the future? She wondered. Was she going to ask him to come around? It didn’t seem so. Then what?

She pressed her lips together. Not knowing was so nerve wrecking, despite having the oh so powerful fortune telling skill.

​Her fingers stayed resting against the silver ’A’ at her collarbone.

There were no single excuses left to make regarding his actions, that was for sure—No convenient excuses about him using her for her divination abilities or simply because she was interesting.

Nat was genuinely, hopelessly falling for her.

​"You really are insane," April whispered quietly, her voice lacking any of its usual bite or defensive coldness.

​Nat cackled deeply, the rich, rumbling sound echoing out into the open night air over the glowing, doomed city below them.

​"Only for you, April," Nat smirked, offering her his hand once more to lead her back toward the car. "Only for you."

Once back in the car, April pulled out her phone to keep herself busy. The thoughts swirling through her head were far too much to process, and the sudden pounding of her heart was getting way too distracting.

​Beside her, Nat navigated the winding mountain roads with easy, lazy confidence. His eyes flicked toward the passenger seat from time to time, catching the way her fingers stilled against the glowing screen every few seconds. He saw her lips pursed in frustrated concentration, and when she shot him a sharp, knowing glare, a low, quiet chuckle escaped his lips.

​He liked what he was doing to her. At least now he knew she possessed a functioning heart—and that she could finally feel the undeniable weight of his sincerity.

​When they finally pulled up to the Reed estate, Nat cut the engine. Step by step, he remained the picture of an attentive companion, stepping out of the car to open her door and guiding her into the moonlit courtyard.

​That was when his eyes caught sight of Xavier standing near the central fountain, his arms crossed, watching their arrival with a cold, guarded gaze.

​A dark, dangerous smirk touched Nat’s lips. Without a second thought, he leaned down, pressing a firm, warm kiss directly against April’s forehead.

​"Goodnight, sweetheart," Nat murmured, his tone dripping with quiet, competitive satisfaction aimed squarely at the man watching from the shadows.

​"Goodnight," April responded smoothly. She forced her voice to remain flat, acting as if that sudden kiss on her forehead hadn’t just happened, refusing to dwell on the subtle, dizzying flip her heart gave inside her chest. It was... distracting.

​She turned on her heel, stepping into the courtyard as Nat strolled back to his SUV with a satisfied wave.

​Xavier stepped forward, his posture rigid as he offered a small nod.

"You came back early," he noted, clearly attempting to brush over the scene he had just witnessed, though his jaw remained tight.

​"Yes, I officially ended things with the black market," April said, crossing her arms with a light scoff. "Now you can be relieved, Mr. Worrywart."

​Xavier flinched slightly, a faint, unexpected flush creeping up his cheeks. "I... I just worry about your safety," he admitted softly, adjusting his cuff. "That place is lawless and dangerous, after all. But I am glad you’re done with it."

​April let out a soft laugh. "Well, I no longer have business down there."

Xavier caught sight of the silent necklace gleaming around her neck and his throat went tight, but he said nothing and acted like it didn’t bother him one bit. Sincerely, the necklace complimented her beauty so well it made him jealous that he did not think of it first, but those words did not leave his lips.

​"Your sister is currently upstairs trying on the clothes the tailors brought," Xavier said, his tone softening into something much more gentle. "The elite seamstresses that took her measurements the other day, courtesy of Dr. Oliver, came by to drop the clothes."

​"Ah, the clothes are already here?"

​Xavier nodded. "Yes. Along with your dress for tomorrow night. I... I took time out of my schedule to pick it out personally. So... I hope you like it."

​For the first time since she had met him, the mighty CEO of Reed Industries looked entirely bashful. A soft red hue dusted his ears, and he deliberately avoided eye contact as he straightened his posture.

It made April genuinely wonder what kind of dress he could have possibly selected to make him act like this.

​She didn’t have to wait long to find out.

​When she walked into the second-floor dressing suite, she found Emily literally swimming through a sea of designer boxes, silk racks, and endless casual and comfortable outfits.

But what immediately caught April’s breath were the two mannequins standing side-by-side in the center of the room.

​They held two identical, exquisitely crafted dinner gowns—masterpieces that could only have been forged by a world-class artisan.

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