Apocalypse Rebirth: Making Billions With My Fortune-Telling Skill

​The next morning offered zero peace.

​Emily sat helplessly on the edge of the large bed, her face pale with distress as she watched her sister silent-cry in agony. April was writhing on the mattress, her body curled tightly into a rigid, trembling ball as her fingers clutched the twisted bedsheets.

The sharp, clawing cramps were radiating through her entire lower abdomen, relentless and blinding.

​The thermal patch had completely lost its effectiveness hours ago, and despite her stubborn endurance, April hadn’t slept more than twenty minutes all night. She was thoroughly, utterly exhausted.

But despite that, no single sound left her lips, as if making a sound, crying or complaining would make the pain even more unbearable.

​The bedroom door suddenly clicked open, and Xavier, Nat, and Alexander stepped inside, ready to check on her before the tournament schedule officially kicked off.

​The moment their eyes landed on April—panting, pale, and twisting in pain on the bed—the calm atmosphere instantly shattered into total alarm.

​”April!” Xavier rushed straight to the bedside; his face went pale with panic. Reaching out to pull her into his arms, he said urgently, ”I’ll take you to the hospital right now—”

​SLAP!

​April knocked his hand away with a surprisingly sharp, furious flick of her wrist, though her voice came out raspy and completely drained of strength.

​”Don’t be silly,” April gritted out through clenched teeth, burying her forehead back into the pillow as another vicious spasm hit her stomach. ”It’s cramps... not a damn stab wound.”

Nat scratched his mess of red hair roughly, letting out an annoyed, helpless grunt. In the past, whenever a woman he was seeing started having her period, he simply paid for her ride and sent her home so he wouldn’t have to deal with the hassle.

He had zero experience actually taking care of someone going through this. His trust issues wouldn’t let him drop his guard.

​Alexander stepped closer, his blue eyes filled with gentle, helpless concern. ”April, maybe you should sit this one out today. You shouldn’t come to the competition in this state.”

​April’s dark eyes snapped open, glaring up at him from the bed. A heavy shadow fell across her pale, sweat-sheened face, her brows drawing into a tight, fierce knot.

​”And how do you expect me to get those dishes freshly cooked into my inventory?” she snapped, her voice laced with an unusual, sharp bite. ”Stop saying things I don’t want to hear!”

​Hormones and exhaustion were tearing through her, turning her thoroughly cranky without her even realizing it.

​”Get out,” April gritted through her teeth, clutching her stomach as she tried to sit up. ”All of you, get out. I’m going to get changed and come downstairs.”

​”April...” Xavier called out, his tone dripping with deep, restless worry as he tried to reach for her again.

​Knock. Knock.

​A light, rhythmic tapping echoed from the open doorway. ”Am I interrupting?”

​Oliver stood leaning against the doorframe, looking impeccably put-together.

​”Hey, you’re a doc, right?” Nat barked, his voice laced with his usual snarky, impatient edge as he gestured toward the bed. ”Come see if you can actually do something useful about this.”

​Oliver raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a dry, unimpressed line. ”I am actually a surgeon. And why in the world should I take orders from you, Collins?”

​Nat scoffed, folding his massive arms tightly over his broad chest. ”Fine. Let’s see how well you conduct your little science observations when your ’subject’ is currently writing in pain on the bed.”

​The moment the words left Nat’s mouth, Oliver’s sharp, analytical eyes locked onto April’s trembling, pale frame.

​In a literal flash, Oliver was across the room and dropping onto his knees right beside her bed, his hands already moving with precise, professional efficiency.

He carefully took a quick look at her pale, sweat-sheened face before reaching out, his long fingers gently pressing against the side of her neck to check her pulse.

​His eyes narrowed as he felt the rapid, shallow beat of her heart, taking in her tightly curled posture, the stark white of her knuckles clutching the twisted sheets, and the dark, stubborn defiance still burning in her eyes despite the sheer agony she was in.

​”Severe dysmenorrhea,” Oliver diagnosed smoothly, his voice dropping into a quiet, authoritative tone that instantly commanded the room. He didn’t bother using heavy medical jargon, keeping it entirely practical as he reached into his leather bag. ”The uterine contractions are cutting off blood flow, causing acute muscle spasms. Standard over-the-counter painkillers aren’t going to touch this level of inflammation, especially when her stress levels are elevated.”

​”So, fix it,” Nat growled from behind him, stepping closer while keeping his arms crossed. ”You got something in that bag or are you just giving us a lecture?”

​Oliver ignored Nat completely, uncapping a small vial and drawing a clear liquid into a syringe with practiced, effortless speed.

​”Miss April, look at me,” Oliver said softly, his cool fingers lightly tracing the side of her jaw to draw her eyes up to his. ”This is a targeted antispasmodic combined with a high-grade analgesic. It will stop the smooth muscle contractions in your abdomen within five minutes without clouding your mind.”

​April glared down at the needle, her pragmatic brain instantly weighing her options through the fog of pain. ”Does that mean... Will I be able to walk down around without this pain? I have to be present at the event.”

​Oliver let out a soft, dry chuckle, shaking his head with a mix of disbelief and quiet admiration. ”You are utterly unbelievable. As a doctor, I would advise you stay home and rest after the shot, but I doubt you’ll listen. So, yes. You will be fully functional. But only if you let me administer it right now.”

Oliver who would usually not care about anything else and only about what he could benefit—like how he could get her functional for more observation—actually decided to advise her to stay home.

Not something you see every day.

​April let out a tight, defeated breath, turning her head back into the pillow. ”Fine. Just do it.”

​With complete precision, Oliver swabbed the skin of her upper arm and smoothly administered the injection. Almost instantly, as the medication entered her bloodstream, the sharp, clawing tension in her lower belly began to loosen its lethal grip.

​Xavier stepped up to the other side of the bed, his dark eyes fixed entirely on her face as her rigid muscles finally relaxed into the mattress. ”How does it feel?”

​April took her first deep, unimpeded breath in hours, her eyelids fluttering slightly as a heavy wave of relief washed over her exhausted body. ”The... the clawing stopped.”

​”Told you,” Oliver murmured smoothly, recapizing the syringe and placing it neatly back into his bag. He looked down at her with a gentle, lingering gaze before casting a subtle, triumphant glance back at Nat and Xavier. ”I suggest twenty minutes of rest to let the analgesic take full effect before you even think about getting changed.”