Apocalypse Rebirth: Making Billions With My Fortune-Telling Skill

Standing amidst the glitz and the heavy, suffocating stares of the upper class, Emily felt her stomach twist. The overwhelming sensory input and lingering memories of past humiliation made her press closer to April’s side.

"April..." Emily murmured softly, her fingers lightly catching her sister’s silk sleeve. "My stomach feels a bit tight with everyone staring like this... I think the fruit juice from earlier isn’t settling well. I need to use the washroom."

April’s playful smirk instantly vanished, replaced by an alert, protective sharpness. She knew the layout of this estate down to the inch—every isolated corridor, every quiet hallway where Madam Morgan’s favorite staff used to corner helpless maids.

"The main guest washrooms are down the east gallery, past the glass displays," April whispered back, pointing toward a grand, arched corridor.

Emily nodded, preparing to step away, but April caught her wrist firmly, her dark eyes flashing with sharp concern. "Wait. I’m coming with you."

Emily stopped, turning back to her twin with a soft, affectionate smile as she gently shook her head. "No, April. How could you leave the center of the room when you are the star of the show tonight? Everyone is watching you. You shouldn’t step away for something so small."

April frowned, her voice dropping into a stern, protective command. "Are you kidding me? Why would I let you wander around this madhouse alone?"

Turning toward the men standing right behind them, April’s dark eyes locked onto Samuel and Alexander.

"Samuel! Alexander!"

Both men turned their heads to pay attention.

"Please accompany my sister to the washroom," April said, "Two guards are better than one. I don’t trust a single wall under this roof, and I am not letting Emily out of my sight without my absolute best protection."

Alexander adjusted the cuffs of his double-breasted jacket, a smooth smirk touching his face. "Gladly. Standing around listening to these corporate brown-nosers was getting boring anyway."

Samuel bowed cleanly, taking his position half a step behind Emily with stoic, absolute devotion. "Rest assured, Miss April. No harm will come near Miss Emily."

With Samuel and Alexander flanking her like an impenetrable wall, Emily let out a breath of relief and allowed them to escort her down the east corridor.

That left April standing in the central lounge, flanked by Nat, Oliver, and Xavier.

Xavier was almost immediately targeted by a few lingering mid-level executives attempting to secure a greeting, though his icy, dismissive gaze kept them from taking more than two steps forward. Dr. Oliver stood impeccably still, his tablet tucked under his arm as his sharp eyes passively scanned the room’s security setup. Nat remained at April’s side like a towering, wild shadow, his dangerous aura ensuring no ordinary aristocrat dared step within five feet of them.

Suddenly, a loud, booming voice carried over the classical music.

"Ah! Executive Reed! Lord Nat! What an incredible honor it is for you to grace our family’s grand evening!"

A middle-aged man in a flashy, heavily embroidered navy tuxedo strode toward them, holding a crystal glass of aged scotch.

It was the master of the house—Steven Morgan.

Steven was a man driven entirely by corporate ambition, status, and wealth. Years ago, when his wife had brought a girl into the estate to serve as a low-level maid—ad punching bag—Steven hadn’t paid her a single second of attention.

To him, servants were invisible background noise, cheap labor meant to keep the estate running while he focused on high-society deals. He had absolutely no idea that the breathtaking, ethereal woman in sapphire standing before him was the exact same girl his household had mistreated for ten years.

Steven offered a grand, theatrical bow toward Xavier and Nat, completely blind to the bone-chilling hostility radiating from both men.

"We are truly humbled that Reed Industries and the Golden Dragon himself chose to attend our new enterprise launch!" Steven preened, taking a sip of his drink before his eyes slid over to April.

His eyes widened in genuine, soaring admiration of her striking beauty, though his mind remained entirely ignorant of who she was.

"And who might this absolute vision be?" Steven asked, his tone dripping with polished, sycophantic charm as he smiled at April. "A noble companion of Reed Industries, perhaps?"

April looked at Steven Morgan, her dark eyes completely devoid of warmth. A thin, mocking smile touched her lips, but before she could drop a single word to shatter his pompous illusion, Xavier stepped forward smoothly, placing himself half a pace ahead of her.

"She is not my companion, Master Morgan," Xavier stated, his voice dropping into an icy, resonant register that instantly cut through the ambient ballroom noise. "She is the sole reason I am standing under your roof tonight. You would do well to address her with the utmost respect."

Steven’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, a flicker of confusion passing over his sharp features. He looked closely at April again, trying to trace her family lineage among the regional nobility.

With her regal poise, the breathtaking sapphire gown, and the formidable presence of the men backing her, he immediately assumed she had to be the secret heiress of a massive, hidden conglomerate.

"Ah... forgive my lack of propriety, My Lady," Steven quickly recovered, bowing even lower to April with practiced, slick sycophancy. "It is an absolute privilege to welcome a guest of your evident stature to the Morgan estate. Our doors are honored by your presence."

Beside them, Nat let out a sudden, dry scoff. He didn’t bother hiding his disdain, casually swirling the ice in his whiskey glass as his golden eyes locked onto Steven like a hawk sizing up prey.

"Honored?" Nat drawled, his voice carrying a dangerous, low rumble. "You have no idea how heavy this honor actually is, Morgan. Pray your house is strong enough to bear it."

Steven let out a nervous, awkward chuckle, swallowing hard under Nat’s suffocating aura. "Ah, Lord Nat, always so sharp with your humor! Please, enjoy the vintage bar, the finest delicacies—"

"Where is Madam Morgan?" April interrupted flatly, her clear, melodious voice slicing right through Steven’s nervous babble.

Steven blinked, adjusting his lapel. "My wife? Ah, she is currently over by the main stage with the event organizers, preparing for the opening speech. Would you like me to summon her to greet you?"

"No need," April replied coolly, her dark eyes flicking briefly toward the grand stage at the center of the hall. "She will see me soon enough."

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