Apocalypse Rebirth: Making Billions With My Fortune-Telling Skill

Selma’s face was twisted in ugly disgust as her eyes raked over the shimmering sapphire dress.

"Look at you! Wearing a dress you clearly can’t afford, flaunting yourself around these powerful men!" She clicked her tongue. "I don’t know what you are doing or what ridiculous scheme you think you’re pulling, but don’t you dare disgrace our family out in the open like this, you wretch!"

She jabbed a sharp, manicured finger toward April’s chest, her shrill voice rising above the ambient hushed whispers of the nearby guests.

"Just leave our family out of your disgusting mess! The Le Morenos have nothing to do with a worthless creature like you. We accepted the pathetic likes of you, gave you our family name, and this is how you act?!"

Selma took a sharp breath, her eyes darting around frantically as if looking for someone in the crowd.

"By the way, where is my son?! Why haven’t we been able to get in touch with Johan in days?! He’s never this silent! Did you get these men to do something to cause his disappearance just to cover up your infidelity?!" Selma’s voice shrilled louder, desperate to assert her dominance. "If you’ve done anything to hinder Johan, I will personally see to it that you are thrown into the street with nothing! Answer me!"

Standing perfectly still, April didn’t flinch. She simply looked down at Selma as if the woman were a noisy insect buzzing at her feet.

Did I have them do something to cause his disappearance? April thought, a dark, cold irony glittering in her eyes. Well... she isn’t entirely wrong. The only part she got right is that I had Johan locked up in a dark, soundless cell along with the rest of the Gabriel family.

Still, April’s dark eyes locked onto the aggressive woman. What is this woman’s connection with Emily?

Right on cue, a quiet, electronic chime hummed softly inside her mind.

[System Alert: Target identified: Selma LeMoreno (Mother-in-law to Emily Gabriel).]

[Would you like to read Selma LeMoreno’s past fortune?]

[Daily Insight Uses Remaining: 10/10.]

Yes, April commanded silently.

In an instant, a flood of stark, detailed information expanded on the blue system interface before her eyes.

The data laid bare years of systematic, cruel abuse. Selma had always despised Emily, treating her like a worthless, low-class burden while constantly holding Clara up as the gold standard of high-society perfection.

Selma had openly mocked Emily’s meekness, forced her into degrading domestic tasks, and endlessly humiliated her behind closed doors.

Worst of all, the record revealed a darker, stomach-churning truth: Selma had repeatedly warned her son, Johan, that letting Emily bear a child would be an absolute disaster for the Le Moreno bloodline. Most of the brutal incidents that led to Emily’s past miscarriages—the ’accidental’ falls, the spiked teas, the physical distress caused by Johan—had been quietly orchestrated, encouraged, and egged on by Selma herself, if not outright engineered alongside Clara.

April’s eyes slowly narrowed, the faint amusement in her expression evaporating into an absolute, pitch-black abyss.

So, this woman was one of the primary monsters who had tortured her sister from the shadows.

A slow, terrifyingly beautiful smirk spread across April’s lips as she looked at Selma, her voice dropping into a smooth, melodic whisper that carried an icy promise of total annihilation.

There’s a reason the system wants me to wipe them out before the apocalypse begins. They are all so troublesome and need to suffer greatly.

"You speak so loudly, Madam LeMoreno," April murmured, stepping half a pace forward, her sapphire gown rustling softly against the marble. "Pray your family’s sins aren’t quite as loud when the check comes due tonight."

"What did you say?!" Selma shrieked, her face turning an ugly, blotchy red as she pointed her trembling finger at April. "How dare a useless, cheap little thief like you speak to me in that—"

Screeech!

The sharp, sudden feedback of a testing microphone echoed across the grand ballroom, cutting through the ambient classical music and instantly silencing Selma’s shrill tirade.

The massive crystal chandeliers overhead dimmed slightly, casting the spotlight directly toward the elevated central stage at the front of the hall.

Steven Morgan quickly cleared his throat, adjusting his tuxedo jacket as he began smoothing his way toward the steps, while Madam Morgan stepped up to the podium, holding a crisp sheet of notes with an arrogant, satisfied smirk.

The main event was officially commencing.

April’s eyes flicked toward the front of the hall, her dark gaze locking onto the stage as a cold, dangerous calm settled over her features. She lightly smoothed the rich sapphire silk over her hips, and touched the silver ’A’ pendant resting snugly against her collarbone.

It was about time.

Behind her, a soft rustle of white silk marked the return of Emily, flanked by Samuel and Alexander.

Taking her place right beside her twin, Emily looked flushed, her eyes bright and steady under her diamond tiara, completely composed after her encounter in the gallery.

She notice people were still staring and whispering ut before she asked, Alexander beat her to it.

"Hey, did something happen while we were away?" He asked.

"Just a light confrontation," April responded smoothly. "However, the real show is about to begin."

Nat shifted his weight, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face as his golden eyes scanned the high ceilings and heavy entryways. Beside him, Xavier subtly adjusted his cufflinks, his imposing frame radiating an absolute, suffocating authority, while Oliver quietly tapped a final, definitive command into his tablet.

Every piece was in position. Every exit was locked to military specifications.

April glanced over at Emily, a sharp, breathless smirk touching the corner of her lips.

"Get ready, Emily," April murmured softly, her voice an icy, intoxicating whisper. "The curtain is finally rising."

Madam Morgan stepped onto the grand stage, her high heels clicking rhythmically against the polished marble podium.

Dressed in a sprawling gold-embroidered gown, she smoothed her hair and adjusted the microphone. The massive crystal chandeliers dimmed further, casting a blinding, dramatic spotlight over her frame.

At her side, Steven Morgan stood with his chest puffed out, beaming at the crowd of investors, news outlets, and elite families gathered below.

"Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests, and esteemed colleagues," Madam Morgan’s voice boomed through the sound system, dripping with practiced elegance. "Tonight marks a historic milestone for the Morgan Group. Many of you have watched our journey—a journey built on unwavering integrity, relentless sacrifice, and a deep commitment to excellence."

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