Apocalypse Rebirth: Making Billions With My Fortune-Telling Skill

​Victor was trembling so violently he could barely keep his footing on the marble steps, but Eleanor’s manipulative instincts kicked in instantly.

She assumed Emily had somehow snuck out, met Nat on the street, and spun a sob story to bring trouble to their doorstep.

​Forcing a strained, polite smile onto her face, Eleanor straightened her posture and began heading straight toward April with her hand outstretched to drag her back into line.

​”Master Nat... please accept our deepest apologies,” Eleanor said, her voice dripping with artificial, sweet grace. ”Our daughter has been mentally unstable as of late due to her mother’s declining health. We did not train her properly, and she has clearly brought an embarrassing inconvenience to your esteemed presence. Emily, come here this instant and—”

​A tiny distortion rippled through the air right at April’s right side.

​Without a single wasted movement or a hint of hesitation, April’s hand swept upward. In the span of a single second, the space around her palm folded, and the custom silver Gabriel-series handgun materialized directly into her grip.

​By the time Eleanor’s manicured hand came within two feet of her, the cold, gleaming silver barrel was already pressed firmly against the center of Eleanor’s forehead.

​The cold steel barrel was aimed directly between Eleanor’s eyes.

​Eleanor froze dead in her tracks, her fake smile instantly evaporating into a look of sheer, paralyzed horror. Behind her, Victor let out a pathetic, strangled squeak, and Johan stumbled backward against the banister.

​April stared at the older woman through unblinking, pitch-black eyes. She loathed women like Eleanor. The slick, venomous pretense, the fake maternal concern, the cold-blooded cruelty hidden beneath expensive silk and heavy makeup—it was a carbon copy of Madam Morgan. It was the exact type of woman who had turned her first life into a living hell.

​And April had zero knack for tolerating bullshit.

​”Take one more step toward me, Lady,” April said, her voice chillingly quiet, devoid of a single drop of hesitation, ”and I will blow your head off.”

​The silence in the foyer became absolute.

​Nat didn’t stop her. He simply stood beside her, his hands tucked back into his coat pockets, a dark, thoroughly entertained smirk spreading across his face as he watched his sweetheart hold an entire family hostage at gunpoint.

It was a fun show.

​”Em... Emily?” Johan stuttered, his voice shaking violently as he looked at her face. The weak, terrified girl he had been cheating on and locking away didn’t have eyes like this.

This woman looked like she had killed a hundred people and wouldn’t mind making Eleanor the hundred and first. ”What are you doing?! Put the gun down! That’s your stepmother!”

​April didn’t even turn her head to acknowledge him. Her finger rested firmly on the trigger, her aim as steady as a mountain.

​”I will ask one last time,” April repeated flatly, her voice striking the room like a death sentence. ”Where is Emily? And where is her sick mother?”

”Stop your sick games!” Clara yelled, her shrill voice echoing against the marble tiles as she hid behind Julian. ”I told you, Father! Emily has been pretending all this time and now she’s finally showing her true colors! She’s colluded with dangerous men to rob you of your wealth!”

​Victor cowered further behind his second wife, his face pale as chalk, while Eleanor stood utterly rigid under the cold, unwavering sight of April’s gun.

​April didn’t so much as blink at Clara’s accusation. The absurd narrative of being accused of ’robbing their wealth’—when she was literally raking in tens of billions in the black market—didn’t even register as worth correcting.

​Instead, her eyes flicked briefly toward Nat.

​Nat didn’t need a single spoken word. The lazy, dangerous smirk remained on his lips as he gave a subtle nod to his enforcers.

Within seconds, four heavy, body-armored men pushed past the trembling Gabriel family, drawing their silenced sidearms as they swept upstairs to search the estate.

​”Search the place, specifically the third floor. Check every locked door until you find them,” Nat ordered lazily, his hands still shoved deep into his coat pockets.

​”You can’t do this! This is private property!” Johan shouted, trying to muster an ounce of authority, but an enforcer instantly smashed the butt of a rifle into his stomach, sending the guy crumpling to his knees with a painful groan.

​​”Johan!” Clara screamed, cowering back before her eyes snapped back to April, burning with sheer, unbridled malice. ”You bitch! How dare you bring these thugs into our home to hurt your own husband?!”

​April didn’t even turn her torso. Her unblinking gaze remained locked forward, her voice cold as ice. ”Husband? I have never been married in my life.” She finally rolled her eyes down to the pathetic excuse of a man. ”And I certainly wouldn’t settle for something so pathetic either.”

​”Stop playing dumb!” Clara shrieked, her haughty pride completely overriding what little common sense she had left.

In her mind, this was still the spineless, pathetic woman they had beaten down and locked away in the dark—a useless pushover who flinched at raised voices. ”You think holding a toy gun makes you scary, Emily?! You’re a coward! You wouldn’t even dare pull the trigger if it were a real one!”

​Driven by hysterical rage, Clara lunged forward, her long acrylic nails aiming straight for April’s face.

​Before she could even cover half the distance, April’s wrist flicked with frightening speed. She dropped the silver barrel away from Eleanor’s forehead for a split second, aimed downward, and pulled the trigger.

​BANG!

​A deafening shot shattered the foyer’s silence as a single round pulverized the marble tile a single inch in front of Clara’s bare toes.

”Ahhhh—!” Flying stone splinters stung Clara’s shins, and the sheer shockwave sent her tumbling backward onto her hands and knees.

​The maids screamed violently, diving behind the sofa, and other furniture while Eleanor covered her ears with a terrified gasp.

​Clara froze on the floor, her chest heaving violently, staring in wide-eyed horror at the smoking hole in the ground right before her feet.

​”Don’t come close to me, filth,” April sneered in quiet disgust, her face utterly unbothered as she effortlessly brought the silver handgun right back up, pressing the warm barrel back against Eleanor’s trembling forehead. ”I despise your kind.” She hissed.