Rich Girl Transforms Into Doomsday Survival Maniac

With Gabriel's approval, I grew even bolder.

But while he wasn't stopping me, his wallet wasn't a bottomless pit either.

My previous buying spree had already maxed out the supplementary credit card he'd given me.

The remaining balances for the construction crew and the supply orders were still gaping holes in my budget.

Gabriel was swamped at work lately, and I felt bad constantly asking him for cash. After all, in his eyes, I was just having a massive episode.

I turned my attention to the walk-in closet.

Inside was a whole wall of jewelry and hundreds of designer bags.

"Mom! That green bangle! The one Grandma left you? That thing can fetch two whole crates of antibiotics in the apocalypse! Sell it!"

I hardened my resolve and packed all my valuables into a large suitcase.

I used to cherish these things as if they were life itself. Now, they were nothing but dead weight.

I dragged the suitcase to the biggest pawnshop in the city.

To liquidate it all as fast as possible, I didn't even bother haggling, accepting whatever the owner offered.

Just as I was stepping out with several new bank cards, I ran right into the ever-present Karlie again.

She was at a cafe across the street, having high tea with a few other socialites.

Seeing me exit a pawnshop, her eyes lit up brighter than a laser show. "I knew it! The Gibson family is definitely going under! Phoebe's already selling off her jewelry to run away!"

She had such a loud mouth that she practically wanted the whole street to hear.

I couldn't care less. Right now, every minute was precious.

Armed with cash, I used my old coworker's connections to score two industrial-grade, high-capacity generators on the black market.

Along with them came hundreds of barrels of diesel.

The fuel reeked. The moment it was rolled into the villa's garage, the neighbors blew a fuse.

The property manager, Billy Deleon, showed up with a few security guards. He aggressively demanded that I remove the fuel barrels, citing safety hazards.

"No way! Nobody touches my fuel!"

I stood firmly in front of the barrels, throwing a total tantrum like a madwoman.

We wouldn't survive without power, and the cold storage wouldn't be able to keep the meat fresh. The electric fence also wouldn't be able to run.

"Ms. Webb, if you insist, we'll have no choice but to call the police," Billy said, looking thoroughly exasperated.

Just then, a black Maybach pulled up to the entrance.

Gabriel was home.

He looked at me standing there like a bristling cat, then at the sweating Billy.

"What's going on here?"

Billy looked like he'd just seen his savior. "Mr. Gibson, your wife has stockpiled a massive amount of diesel in the garage. It's against regulations."

Gabriel rubbed his temples and walked over, pulling me behind him. "I have a use for this fuel. I'll arrange for professionals to handle the explosion-proofing. If anything happens, I'll take full responsibility."

Billy stood frozen for a second. Since Gabriel had spoken, he didn't dare say another word and could only slink away.

As I looked at Gabriel's broad shoulders, my eyes grew a little misty.

He turned around, took one look at my disheveled face, and let out a soft sigh.

Then, he clapped his hands together.

A driver pulled up in a wildly aggressive, matte-black SUV.

It looked more imposing than an armored personnel carrier. It was entirely encased in steel plates with glass as thick as bricks.

"Here's the… bulletproof vehicle you wanted," Gabriel said, his tone laced with a profound sense of exhaustion. "I have no idea who you're trying to defend against, but if you're going to play this game, you might as well go all out."

I rushed forward and threw my arms around him, wiping my tears and nose right onto his bespoke suit.

"Honey! You're the best! When the zombies get here, I've got your back. Anyone tries to bite you, I'll blow their brains out!"

Gabriel's body stiffened for a second before he patted my back. "Well, thanks in advance."