Apocalypse Rebirth: Making Billions With My Fortune-Telling Skill

Theo stared at her, his mind echoing with a single thought: The pictures really don’t do her justice.

Maintaining the utmost respect—knowing full well that Nat would tear him limb from limb if he showed even a fraction of disrespect—Theo stopped a few steps below her and bowed his head politely.

”My name is Theo,” he introduced himself smoothly. ”I’m Boss Nat’s second-in-command. I’m pleased to finally meet the Boss’s woman.”

April raised a single eyebrow, her eyes looking down at him with a cool, sharp intensity that instantly chilled the air between them.

”Change that title,” April said plainly, her tone sharp and unyielding. ”I have a name. Not ’the Boss’s woman.’”

Theo flinched, the subtle shift in her expression and the cold weight of her frown striking him like a physical blow. He gulped, bowing his head even lower to conceal his sudden nervousness.

”Y-yes, of course. My apologies, Miss April,” he stammered out quickly, taking a cautious step back to give her space.

April didn’t waste another second on him. She brushed past Theo on the stairs, her light steps echoing softly as she made her way toward the kitchen where the scent of toasted bread was already beginning to drift through the hall.

Entering the kitchen, she spotted Samuel meticulously monitoring the toaster, his posture as pristine as ever.

”Samuel,” April called out softly, stepping up beside him and holding out the silk ribbon, ”can you help me with my hair?”

Samuel turned smoothly, setting down the tea kettle with a quiet, practiced movement. His eyes swept over her vibrant yellow dress, registering the high collar that concealed every mark he had so painstakingly tended to just hours prior.

”Of course, Miss April,” Samuel replied softly.

He took the silk ribbon from her hand, his fingers brief and feather-light against her skin. Stepping behind her, he gathered her long, brown hair with delicate care, ensuring he didn’t pull on a single strand. With practiced precision, he bound her hair back, looping the yellow ribbon into a neat, elegant bow that rested perfectly against the back of her high collar.

”There,” Samuel murmured, stepping back to admire his work. ”Impeccable, as always.”

”Thank you, Samuel,” April said, feeling the weight off her neck.

Just then, Theo lingered near the entrance of the kitchen, looking thoroughly chastised and extraordinarily cautious. He cleared his throat lightly, keeping his hands clasped behind his back.

”Miss April,” Theo began carefully, picking his words as if walking through a minefield. ”Boss... I mean, Nat, is still asleep upstairs. Should I inform him that you’re awake, or...?”

”No need,” April replied evenly, taking a seat at the small breakfast nook while Samuel placed a plate of golden-brown toast and a warm cup of tea in front of her. ”He had a long night. Let him sleep.”

Theo’s eyes flicked over to Samuel, whose expression remained completely impassive behind his glasses, though a subtle, dangerous gleam glinted in his dark eyes. Theo swallowed hard, suddenly piecing together what he had meant earlier on the stairs.

A long night indeed, Theo thought, shuddering inwardly at the sheer terrifying aura radiating off the two people in the room. They had a long, wild night, and yet here she was, sitting poised and unbothered, acting completely like nothing had happened—strong, composed, and completely healthy.

Somehow, her serene, unshakable demeanor made her ten times more terrifying than any armed hitman he had ever crossed paths with.

”Samuel,” she said between quiet bites. ”Is the car ready?”

”It has been waiting outside for twenty minutes, Miss April,” Samuel answered smoothly, pouring her a fresh glass of water. ”Whenever you are ready, we may depart for the arena.” then he looked at the water. ”Please make do with this. There were no tea bags,”

”It’s fine, thank you as always, Samuel,” April set her cup down and turned her gaze toward Theo. ”Please pass a message to Nat and the others for me when they wake up.”

”Of course, Miss April,” Theo replied instantly, standing at sharp attention. ”What is it?”

This legendary gangster, the second-in-command of the feared Golden Dragons, was suddenly acting like a civilized, polite attendant just to ensure he didn’t end up on her bad side.

”Tell them that I’ll be heading out first,” April instructed, her eyes locking onto his with a cool intensity. ”And tell them they shouldn’t even think of crashing into my private judging suite if they don’t want a piece of my mind.”

”I will do so, Miss April,” Theo said quickly, bowing his head again with absolute earnestness.

Internally, he was sweating bullets. Could I actually say that to the boss? he panicked, running the scenario through his head. The thought of delivering a stern warning to Nat Collins was terrifying, but the alternative—failing to pass along her explicit message and letting Nat barge into her judging suite unannounced—meant he’d end up as target practice for both of them.

Delivering the message was by far the safer death.

Satisfied with his answer, April wiped her fingers on a linen napkin, stood up smoothly, and smoothed down the front of her high-collared yellow dress.

”Let’s go, Samuel,” she said, turning toward the foyer.

”Right behind you, Miss April,” Samuel replied, stepping forward to open the door for her with fluid grace, casting one last lingering, unreadable glance at Theo before following her out to the waiting car.

Leaving a sweating, thoroughly rattled Golden Dragon second-in-command behind in the quiet house, April stepped into the cool morning air, ready for the culinary arena.

The SUV glided away from Nat’s secluded estate, cutting smoothly through the morning mist toward the city’s central culinary arena.

Inside the quiet backseat, April leaned back against the leather upholstery, resting her arm against the window ledge. The gentle hum of the engine was soothing, but her mind was already shifting gears, leaving behind the chaotic heat of the mansion to focus entirely on the upcoming competition.

In the driver’s seat, Samuel kept his eyes fixed on the road, his posture pristine as he navigated the morning traffic with practiced ease.

”Samuel, can you make it that no one except Emily comes up to he judging suite?” April asked, her tone cool. ”I don’t want to listen to their squabble today. The contestants for this round are unpredictable, and I want to review the dishes without interruption.”

”Understood,” Samuel said smoothly. ”I will ensure no unauthorized personnel—including our hosts—gain access to your corridor.”

Though imperceptible, the corner of his mouth curved into a quiet smile.