Apocalypse Rebirth: Making Billions With My Fortune-Telling Skill

Nat’s eyes flared with a raw, unhinged fury. The sheer, crushing pressure of his presence hit Selma like a physical punch to the chest.

The Golden Dragon was no longer just amused—he was out for blood.

Terrified out of her mind, Selma gasped, her instincts screaming at her to back away. She frantically scrambled backward, but her son, Cai, was so frozen in sheer, paralyzed terror that he didn’t move an inch.

Selma’s heel caught against Cai’s boot, causing her to completely lose her footing.

With a pathetic, ungraceful yelp, Selma went tumbling backward, crashing hard onto her rear right in the middle of the polished marble floor. The sharp sound of tearing silk echoed loudly as her expensive designer gown ripped straight down the side seam, but the sheer, paralyzing horror locking her chest made her way too terrified to even notice the ruined dress.

Nat loomed over her sprawling form, casting a massive, dark shadow across her blotchy, pale face. He leaned down slightly, his eyes narrowing into razor-sharp slits as he hissed through his teeth.

"I will make you roll like a dog on this floor before the night is over, you old hag."

Cai’s eyes rolled back in absolute, unbridled panic as Nat’s massive shadow fell over his mother. The fragile dam holding his shattered mind together finally ruptured.

"I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Don’t hit me! Please stop hitting me!" Cai shrieked, cowering on the marble floor with his hands clasped tightly over his ears. He began rocking back and forth uncontrollably, sobbing against his knees. "I’ll be good! I won’t tell anyone! Just don’t hit me anymore! Stay away from me!"

The surrounding socialites recoiled in disgust and confusion, exchanging frantic, low whispers.

"Is he insane?"

"What is he even talking about? Who’s hitting him?"

"He’s completely lost his mind... look at him, babbling like a street lunatic!"

"Gosh, this is no time to be acting so disgraceful."

"The Le Morenos are finished."

Seeing her son reduced to a pathetic, babbling heap while she lay sprawled on the floor with a ruined gown, Selma tried to push herself up, her face burning with utter humiliation. "Cai! Get up! Stop embarrassing us, you foolish boy!"

"E-Enough of this!" a shaky, indignant voice bellowed from the edge of the LeMoreno inner circle.

Sir Le Moreno—Cai’s father and the head of the Le Moreno household—finally stepped forward to assert his authority.

He puffed out his chest, attempting to project the stern, untouchable arrogance of an elite patriarch, but the thick bead of cold sweat running down his temple and his violently trembling fingers betrayed him instantly.

"This is an outrage!" Sir Le Moreno shouted, his voice cracking slightly as his eyes darted from Nat’s towering frame to Xavier’s icy gaze. "You think you can come into a high-society function, fabricate false documents, and physically threaten my wife and son?! We are the Le Moreno family! We have deep political connections—"

"Connections?" Alexander interrupted smoothly, taking a slow, casual step beside April. He swirled his champagne glass, looking at Sir Le Moreno as if he were nothing more than a mild annoyance. "You mean the ministers you bribed to cover up your offshore accounts? Or perhaps the judges in your pocket? I’d check your phone, Sir Le Moreno... if the guards hadn’t jammed all cellular signals a few minutes ago."

Sir Le Moreno froze, his hand instinctively flying to his suit pocket. His face drained of all color as he looked around the sealed ballroom, realizing just how truly helpless he was.

"Y-You..." Sir LeMoreno stammered, his pompous facade crumbling in an instant. He took a hasty step back, completely abandoning his wife on the floor and hiding behind two terrified board members. "This... this is unlawful! Someone call the authorities! Steven, do something!"

On stage, Steven Morgan couldn’t even stand straight, let alone do anything.

April looked at the sniveling patriarch hiding behind his associates, then down at Selma struggling on the floor, and finally at Cai curled into a tight ball. A slow, breathtaking smirk played across her lips—cold, beautiful, and utterly merciless.

"Look at the noble Le Morenos," April murmured softly, her melodic voice echoing through the terrified crowd. "A broken coward, a cruel tyrant on the floor, and a spineless head of the house who hides behind his subordinates the second a real threat appears. Now, look at the Morgans," she looked around the ballroom and did not see the familiar blonde head. "Now, where did your sweet daughter run off to?"

"You leave Liora out of this!" Madam Morgan snarled from the stage, her voice raw and breathless, her bloodshot eyes bulging with manic desperation.

April let out a light laugh that rippled through the suffocating silence of the hall, entirely unbothered by the matriarch’s venom.

"I have no intention of touching her," April said smoothly, taking a slow, deliberate step forward. "It’s you I’m after, after all."

April tilted her head, her eyes glittering with cold, calculating authority as she casually scanned the high-society crowd. It was time to get to the fun part. Her gaze locked onto Nat, then shifted to Samuel.

"Gather them up," April commanded softly.

The command was simple, but its execution was swift and ruthless.

In an instant, Nat’s heavy-armored operatives surged forward like a dark tide. Before Sir Le Moreno could scream, two guards grabbed him by his designer collar, dragging the trembling patriarch out from behind his associates and forcing him straight to his knees in the center of the hall.

Beside him, two more men hauled the sobbing, hysterical Cai out from beneath the table, dropping him onto the cold floor like a sack of dead weight. Selma, struggling frantically against her ripped silk gown, was shoved roughly down alongside her husband and son.

On stage, Samuel stepped up behind Steven and Madam Morgan. Without a single word, he forced both of them down onto their knees right at the edge of the elevated podium, forcing them to look down at the woman they had spent a decade tormenting.

"And Samuel," April added casually, smoothing her gloves. "Bring Matilda out here while you’re at it."

A few seconds later, the side doors opened and Matilda was shoved into the light of the grand ballroom, her face pale as ash.

"Just what is—" Matilda’s breath hitched violently in her chest. She looked at the white-clad figure and then another April in blue, her mind reeling in total, horrifying realization. There are truly two of them? Then, the girl in white... the one who pinned me to the wall in the gallery... she really wasn’t April!

"Matilda, Matilda, Matilda," April murmured, her voice dripping with dark, mocking irony as she looked at the terrified housekeeper. "Look at you. Selling your soul for a few filthy dollar bills, only to end up right where you belong. On the floor, at my feet."

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