Catrin buckled Nico into his car seat in the back of her sleek black SUV.
The heavy doors of the Vance estate were closed behind them. The morning air was crisp, holding no hint of the suffocating heat and ash that would consume the world in exactly thirty days.
"Juice?" Nico asked, kicking his little light-up sneakers against the leather seat.
Catrin pulled a juice box from her designer bag, popped the straw in, and handed it back to him. "Here you go, baby."
She slid into the driver’s seat, gripping the leather steering wheel. She didn’t start the engine. Instead, she closed her eyes and took a deep, trembling breath.
She needed to check. She needed to be absolutely sure.
In her past life, the Infinite Space hadn’t awakened until two weeks into the apocalypse. She had been hiding in a collapsed subway tunnel, starving, delirious from a fever, clutching Nico while the mutants tore apart the survivors above them. The sheer, desperate will to survive had ripped the spatial dimension open in her soul.
Did it come back with her?
Catrin opened her eyes. She stared at her half-empty iced coffee sitting in the cup holder. She reached out, letting her fingertips brush the cold plastic, and focused on the strange, humming warmth deep in her chest.
Store.
The coffee cup vanished.
Catrin gasped, her heart slamming against her ribs.
She closed her eyes again. Instantly, a mental projection bloomed in her mind. It was a massive, sterile, endless grid of pure white space. Floating perfectly in the center of that infinite void was her iced coffee. The condensation on the plastic wasn’t dripping. The ice cubes weren’t melting. Time inside the space was completely frozen.
Retrieve.
She opened her eyes just as the coffee cup reappeared in the cup holder, exactly as she had left it.
Catrin let out a breathless, borderline manic laugh. It was there. The ultimate cheat code. With her ex-husband’s billions and this infinite, time-frozen vault, she wasn’t just going to survive the end of the world. She was going to live in absolute luxury.
Before she could shift the SUV into drive, a sleek silver Maybach aggressively pulled across the driveway, blocking the main gates.
Catrin’s smile vanished.
The back doors of the Maybach opened. Eleanor and Richard Vance stepped out onto the pristine cobblestone. Julian’s parents.
Eleanor looked like she was stepping out for a country club brunch, pearls, a tailored cream dress, and a face pulled tight by expensive surgeons. Richard looked furious, his jaw clenched as he marched toward Catrin’s window.
Catrin slowly rolled the window down, her expression turning to ice.
"Catrin, what is this absolute nonsense Julian is crying about?" Eleanor asked, her voice dripping with that unbearable, patronizing tone she always used. "Get out of the car, dear. Let’s talk like civilized adults."
"I am talking like an adult, Eleanor," Catrin said smoothly. "Which is why I’m leaving."
Richard planted his hands on her door frame, leaning in. He wasn’t a screaming man; he was a man used to crushing people with his checkbook. "Julian said you ambushed him with a divorce decree and some ridiculous blackmail. Catrin, we are the Vance family. We do not burn down empires over petty marital spats. Whatever he did, you will get over it."
"It’s not a spat, Richard. It’s a severance," Catrin replied, not shrinking back an inch.
Eleanor sighed dramatically, placing a hand to her chest. "Sweetheart, we know Julian hasn’t been... perfectly attentive. He works hard. But you’re a Vance now. You have a duty to this family’s image. Whatever this hysterical little mid-life crisis is, it ends today. Get out of the car and go apologize to your husband."
"I’m not a Vance," Catrin said. "I’m just the woman who has been doing your incompetent son’s job for four years."
Richard’s eyes hardened. "Careful, Catrin. If you walk out those gates, you leave with the clothes on your back. The prenup is airtight. You won’t see a single dime."
"The prenup is void because Julian just signed my new terms," Catrin interrupted, her voice dangerously calm. "He embezzled three hundred million dollars from his own investors to cover up his failed tech launches, Richard. Did he tell you that part? Or did he just say I was being hysterical?"
Richard paled. The arrogance instantly drained from his face. He didn’t know.
Eleanor, realizing the money threat wasn’t working, quickly shifted tactics. She peered into the back seat. "You are not taking our grandson. He belongs to this family. I will bury you in custody courts, Catrin."
Catrin actually laughed. It was a cold, sharp sound.
"Eleanor, please. You ran a secret DNA test on Nico three years ago," Catrin said, watching the older woman flinch. "You know Julian isn’t his biological father. You called my son a ’stray’ in the locker room at the country club last Christmas. Do not pretend you give a damn about him now."
Eleanor opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Catrin shifted the SUV into drive. "Move the Maybach, Richard. Or I will ram this three-ton vehicle straight through the side of it. I can afford the insurance bump."
Richard looked into her bright green eyes. He didn’t see the quiet, accommodating daughter-in-law he was used to. He saw a predator. He quickly stepped back and waved his driver out of the way.
Catrin hit the gas, leaving the Vance family in her rearview mirror forever.
Forty-five minutes later, Catrin parked in the loading zone of a massive, industrial wholesale distribution center on the edge of the city.
She walked into the deafening, fluorescent-lit warehouse, her tailored green blazer looking completely absurd next to the forklifts and towering pallets. She tracked down the floor manager, a burly man with a clipboard who looked thoroughly annoyed.
"I need fifty pallets of bottled water, twenty pallets of premium canned goods, and ten pallets of medical-grade first-aid kits," Catrin said, not missing a beat.
The manager blinked, lowering his clipboard. "Lady, that’s commercial scale. You need a registered corporate account to buy in that kind of bulk, and we need three days to arrange delivery."
Catrin reached into her purse and pulled out a solid black, ultra-premium credit card. She placed it flat on his clipboard.
"Charge it," she said. "I will pay double the retail price if you load it all into the back loading dock in the next twenty minutes, lock the doors, and leave me alone."
The manager stared at the card, then at her. "I’ll get the forklifts."
While the manager frantically started yelling orders at his crew, Catrin’s phone vibrated in her pocket.
Caller ID: Marcus Briar.
Her biological father.
Catrin stared at the screen. In her past life, the Briar family had thrown her to the wolves to save their own wealth. When the apocalypse started, Marcus had locked his estate gates, refusing to let her and Nico inside because they didn’t have enough food rations to spare.
She swiped to answer. "Speak."
"Catrin! What the hell is going on?" Marcus barked through the speaker. "Richard Vance just called me. He says you’re extorting Julian and demanding a divorce! Have you completely lost your mind?"
Catrin leaned casually against a stack of wooden crates. "Hello to you too, Father. I’m fine, thanks for asking. Nico is doing great as well."
"Don’t get smart with me!" Marcus yelled. "The Halcyon Hotel Group merger relies entirely on our ties to the Vance family! If you divorce him, you kill the deal! You go back to that house right now, drop these ridiculous demands, and apologize to your husband!"
Catrin’s eyes went dead. "The Halcyon merger is a sinking ship, Marcus. Vance Tech is going to implode by the end of the week. The SEC has his ledgers. If you don’t pull your investments out of Halcyon and Vance today, the Briar family will go bankrupt before the month is over."
"Bullshit! Julian is a genius!"
"Suit yourself," Catrin said. She wasn’t going to try and save a man who had already let her die once. "Oh, and Marcus? Lose my number."
She hung up, instantly blocking the contact.
Ten minutes later, the manager walked up to her, wiping sweat from his forehead. "It’s all in the back dock, ma’am. Paid in full. But... where are your freight trucks?"
"They’re on the way," Catrin lied smoothly. She pulled a stack of hundred-dollar bills from her purse and handed it to him. "Give me the keys to the dock gate and take your guys on an early lunch."
The manager took the cash, handed over the heavy ring of keys, and happily cleared the floor.
Catrin waited until the heavy steel doors clanged shut. She was completely alone in the massive, enclosed loading dock.
Before her sat a literal mountain of supplies. Enough clean water and food to last years.
She raised her hand. Store.
WHOOSH.
The air rushed into the vacuum. In the blink of an eye, eighty heavy wooden pallets completely vanished. The massive concrete floor was entirely empty.
Catrin let out a breathless laugh. It was intoxicating. She was a god in a world that didn’t know it was already dead.
Suddenly, her encrypted burner phone buzzed in her pocket. It was her black-market military contact.
Catrin answered. "Is the mecha-fortress ready for transport?"
"Ms. Briar. We have a situation," the gruff voice said, sounding tense.
Catrin’s smile vanished. "I transferred three billion dollars to your untraceable accounts ten minutes ago. There shouldn’t be situations."
"The feds flagged the sudden, massive liquidation of Vance Holdings," the man rushed out. "They don’t know it’s you yet, but they got spooked. They just locked down Sector 4. The Project Ark prototype is trapped behind a military blockade. They’re going to seize the fortress in two hours."
Catrin stared at the empty concrete floor.
Two hours. If the government seized the prototype, her impenetrable safe zone was gone.
"Keep the engine running," Catrin said, her green eyes narrowing dangerously. "I’m coming to get it myself."