Apocalypse Rebirth: Making Billions With My Fortune-Telling Skill

April led the way down the service staircase, instead of using the elevator, the invisible heels giving her every step a light, weightless precision. Behind her, the men followed in a tight, tense pack—their silent, smoldering rivalries temporarily put on hold as they descended into the quiet, dimly lit corridor leading toward the back kitchen.

As they rounded the corner of the prep area, Samuel held up a single hand, bringing the group to an abrupt halt.

Tucked into a shadowed alcove near the delivery entrance stood Emily.

Standing right in front of her was Philippe. The chef was shifting his weight nervously from side to side, a pair of pastry boxes held loosely in his hands, his face flushed an embarrassing crimson as he stumbled over his words. Emily was looking up at him, her hands tucked neatly behind her back, tilting her head with a shy, breathless smile.

From behind the corner, the gallery of apex predators watched in absolute, stunned silence.

Before anyone could say a word, Emily took a small, hesitant step forward. She stood on her tiptoes, leaned upward, and pressed a quick, delicate peck directly onto Philippe’s burning cheek.

Philippe froze as if struck by lightning, his eyes widening in complete, stunned disbelief. Emily instantly dropped back down, and turned her head away, muttering something they couldn’t hear as her face flushed as red as a ripe tomato, like a high school girl caught in her first crush.

April nearly gasped, her hand instinctively flying to her mouth as her eyes widened.

Behind her, the atmosphere instantly turned toxic.

Nat’s jaw clamped tight, his eyes burning with irritation as he glared at the frozen chef. ”I don’t know if it’s because you two are twins,” Nat gritted out in a low, seething whisper right over April’s shoulder, ”but watching your sister with that turd makes me want to hit someone.”

”Oh, quiet, you,” April whispered back sharply, flicking a glance back at him.

”He’s completely right,” Xavier muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowed into lethal slits as he glared at Philippe’s back. ”Yes, the man can handle a saucepan, but it’s a different case when we’re referring to your sister.”

He probably stirs her heart the way he stirs his soup, April thought.

”It is a glaring lapse in judgment,” Alexander added seamlessly, his voice a cool, hiss of pure disdain, his former arrogance showing itself true and true. ”I think she could’ve done better with her pick.”

Well, not everyone wants to have an arrogant billionaire boyfriend, you know. April stared, sympathy in her eyes. Emily just wanted something simple, nothing that involved wealth like the man she had been married to.

”His elevated heart rate and facial erythema indicate severe nervous system overload,” Oliver noted dryly, though his own jaw was set tight behind his glasses. ”Completely unsuited for high-stress environments.”

April shook her head, a faint, fond curve touching her lips despite the wall of protective, irrational male hostility radiating behind her. ”All of you, shut up before she hears you.”

Emily seemed to have noticed the faint rustle from the shadows and turned her head, peering curiously toward the alcove.

”Quick,” April breathed, instantly pulling back around the corner into the dim service nook before emily found them snooping.

In her rush to duck out of sight, April pressed back flat against the wall, her hand landing squarely on a solid, broad chest to steady herself. She didn’t realize until she felt the fast, heavy thrum of a heartbeat beneath her palm that she was resting her hand directly over Oliver’s heart.

Oliver froze, his dark eyes widening behind his wire-rimmed glasses as he looked down at her hand against his crisp white coat. His pulse spiked frantically under her touch, his chest rising and falling in shallow, rigid breaths.

Before April could even pull her hand back, a large hand clamped around her waist. Nat yanked April cleanly away from the doctor with a sudden, possessive surge, pulling her back against his own massive frame.

”I told you to stay put, Doc,” Nat growled, his voice dropping into a low, menacing rasp right over Oliver’s head, his eyes flashing with raw, predatory fury. ”You’re making moves like a sneaky snake. I’ll tell you this once—she’s mine.”

Oliver completely ignored his barking, treating Nat’s lethal threat like nothing more than background noise. With maddening, deliberate calm, Oliver raised two fingers and adjusted his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his gaze lingering on April’s lips as her heel clicked softly against the floor.

”Your possessive outbursts are getting increasingly unscientific, Collins,” Oliver drawled flatly, his voice cool and utterly unbothered despite the murderous tension radiating from the three other men packed into the narrow hallway. ”And your territorial claims hold zero statistical validity.”

”Say that again, you white-coated bastard—” Nat sneered, his chest heaving against April’s back as his arm tightened around her waist like an iron bar.

”Both of you, stop before Emily actually walks over here and catches us spying,” April hissed, her dark eyes flashing with absolute authority as she elbowed Nat’s ribs just hard enough to make him loosen his grip.

She smoothed down the front of her yellow dress, stepping out from between them with effortless, dangerous grace, the heels carrying her toward the main hallway as if she hadn’t just set these powerful men into a full-blown tailspin, slipping away while they argued.

Samuel matched her stride perfectly, his movements silent and effortlessly smooth as he stepped up to her right side. He leaned in slightly, his low voice cutting through the distant, low-level bickering echoing down the service corridor behind them.

”If you would like, Miss April, we can lose them—and the noise,” Samuel whispered, his posture immaculate, though a subtle, wicked glint touched his dark eyes.

April glanced up at him, a genuine, melodious laugh bubbling up from her throat. ”I doubt they won’t catch up, Samuel. They’re like a pack of hounds.”

”I can guarantee they won’t,” Samuel replied cleanly, without a shred of hesitation. A faint, polished smirk touched his lips. ”I know every service elevator, private exit, and blind spot in this building. Give me the word, and you will be back in the quiet comfort of your vehicle before any of them even realize which door we took.”

April’s eyes sparkled with mischievous intrigue as she glanced back over her shoulder. Down the hall, Nat was currently blocking Oliver from walking forward, while Xavier and Alexander were engaged in an icy, quiet standoff over who had the right to escort her to her car.

”You know what, Samuel?” April murmured, her lips curving into a playful, dangerous smile as her new acrylic heels clicked sharply against the tile floor. ”I’d like to try that. Sounds exciting.”

She took out her phone and called Emily. Emily quickly answered, her voice slightly breathless as if she’d been caught red-handed. ”Sister, I’ll be back now, just—”

”No, it’s fine, I won’t ruin your fun. Take your time,” April interrupted softly, her lips curving with fond warmth. ”The guards are protecting you from the shadows—don’t lose them, and don’t stay out too long, okay? You also have to be careful.”