Reborn with 10 Billion to Conquer the Apocalypse
She has thirty days. Ten billion dollars. And a quantum space that can swallow anything.
Kinsey Elliott died cold, starving, and betrayed—pushed into a frozen abyss by the uncle who stole her fortune.
Then she woke up.
Back in her penthouse. Back in her perfect body. Back with a silver mark on her wrist that lets her store entire warehouses of supplies in a dimension where time stands still.
The world has thirty days until a global ice age freezes everything.
Her family has thirty days to try to lock her away, steal her money, and have her killed.
And Kinsey? She has thirty days to turn ten billion dollars into an invisible fortress—and burn every last one of them to the ground.
She's not surviving the apocalypse.
She's building it.
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Chapter 4
Kinsey stared at the glowing screen. The name Uncle Clemence made the muscles in her jaw tighten until her teeth ached. She let out a short, cold laugh and hit the red 'Decline' button.
She walked into the lobby of her luxury high-rise. She pressed her thumb against the biometric scanner of the private elevator. The doors slid shut, rocketing her up to the penthouse.
The elevator doors chimed and parted. The motion-sensor lights in the hallway flickered on.
Kinsey stepped out. Instantly, her senses went on high alert. The air in her private hallway was tainted. It smelled heavily of Chanel No. 5-a cloying, suffocating floral scent that made her stomach churn.
She rounded the corner into her massive living room.
Sitting on her custom Italian leather sofa was her uncle Clemence. Next to him sat his wife, Loretta, dripping in diamonds, and their daughter, Analia, who was busy filing her nails.
Standing behind the sofa were two massive, thick-necked men in dark suits. Orderlies. Next to them stood a man in a crisp white doctor's coat.
Loretta stood up, stretching her face into a tight, fake smile. She opened her arms. "Kinsey, darling! We were so worried-"
Kinsey sidestepped the embrace. Her eyes swept over the intruders like a blade. "Who gave you the access code to my penthouse?"
Analia blew on her nails and rolled her eyes. "The building manager let us in. He was worried you were going to hurt yourself, considering you've gone completely psychotic."
Clemence stood up. He adjusted his silk tie, pulling it tight against his throat-his signature tell when he was trying to assert control. He put on a mask of deep, paternal sorrow.
"Kinsey, please," Clemence sighed heavily. He reached into his leather briefcase and pulled out a thick stack of medical documents. He threw them onto the glass coffee table with a loud smack.
"Your recent behavior is textbook schizophrenia," Clemence said, his voice echoing in the large room. "Liquidating billions? Buying warehouses of garbage? We had no choice. The family has filed for a Conservatorship with the New York Supreme Court."
Kinsey stared at the papers. A Conservatorship. They were trying to legally strip her of her autonomy, her money, and her freedom. The memories of her past life-being locked in a freezing room while Clemence stole her trust fund-crashed into her mind.
The doctor stepped forward. He held a syringe filled with a clear liquid. "Miss Elliott, please cooperate. We are going to give you a mild sedative and take you to a private facility where you can get the help you need."
The two massive orderlies moved. They flanked Kinsey, stepping between her and the elevator. They used their sheer physical size to block her only exit.
Loretta wasn't even looking at Kinsey anymore. Her greedy eyes were scanning the expensive modern art hanging on the penthouse walls, already calculating how much she could sell it for.
Analia pulled out her phone and hit record. "Smile for the camera, crazy cousin. This is going straight to the group chat."
Kinsey didn't scream. She didn't cry.
Instead, a low, dark chuckle vibrated in her chest. The laughter spilled out of her, echoing in the quiet room. It was a terrifying sound-the sound of someone who had waded through mountains of corpses and found the concept of these weak, pampered people trying to threaten her absolutely hilarious.
Clemence's fake sorrow vanished. The laughter made the hair on his arms stand up. He adjusted his tie violently. "Grab her. Now!" he barked at the orderlies.
The orderly on her left lunged. His massive hand, the size of a dinner plate, reached out to clamp down on Kinsey's shoulder.
Kinsey's body reacted before her conscious mind did. The muscle memory of the wasteland took over.
She dropped her shoulder, slipping under his massive grip at a tactical angle that defied normal physics. As his arm extended past her, she grabbed his thick wrist with both hands.
She dug her thumbs brutally into the ulnar nerve cluster-the 'funny bone' pressure point.
The orderly let out a muffled grunt of agony. The entire left side of his body went instantly numb.
Kinsey didn't stop. She used his own forward momentum against him. She pivoted her hips, loaded his weight onto her back, and executed a flawless, vicious shoulder throw.
The 190-pound man flew through the air. He slammed back-first onto the solid marble floor.
The impact sounded like a car crash. The floorboards literally vibrated. The orderly's eyes rolled back into his head, and he went completely limp, knocked unconscious instantly.
The second orderly's eyes went wide with shock. He scrambled backward, his hand flying to his belt. He ripped a high-voltage taser from its holster and leveled it directly at Kinsey's chest.
Kinsey slowly stood up straight. Her eyes locked onto the metal prongs of the taser. The bloodlust in her veins was fully awake.
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7.3
I found out my husband of three years had cheated on me and his mistress is the one who told me-because he didn't have the balls to do it himself.
I move out and get a new apartment, a job as a bartender, and try to move on with a broken heart. I wonder where it all went wrong, if I hadn't been enough for him, if I'd been stupid for marrying him in the first place.
I'm at work one night when he walks inside-the most beautiful man I've ever seen. He sits at the bar and a forest fire burns between us. I was depressed the moment before he entered, but the second I look at his blue eyes, I forget the dumpster fire that my life has become. I invite him back to my place and it's the most passionate night of my life. I expect to never see him again.
I just want him as an anti-depressant-but he wants me all to himself. I just got my heart ripped out of my chest so I want something easy and no-strings-attached, but he wants all the strings because he's hooked.
I don't get much of a say in the matter, and that's not surprising when I learn why-because he's the Butcher. The crime lord of all crime lords, the boss that overshadows all of Paris, that makes everyone abide by his rules-or pay.
And now I'm his.
7.1
For seven years, I hid my identity as a wealthy heiress to be with my boyfriend, Ewing. I followed him across the country and made myself small so he could feel big.
On Thanksgiving, he ditched our celebration for his first love, Bree, who supposedly had a "burst pipe."
Later, she posted an intimate selfie with him, calling him her "hero."
Then she sent me a video of him at a bar, laughing with his friends.
"She's just being dramatic," he slurred, smirking at the camera. "A new necklace and she'll forget all about it. She's easy."
Easy. Seven years of my life, my love, my sacrifice-all reduced to that one word. I realized I was never his partner. I was just a placeholder.
I didn't cry. I packed my bags, booked a one-way flight to New York, and sent him one final text before blocking his number.
"Don't bother coming home. I'm getting married."
8.9
For seven years, I hid my MIT Ph.D. and my identity as a top haute couture designer to be the perfect, obedient wife to billionaire Cornelius Lambert.
But on our anniversary, while I waited at home with a cold dinner, I found him at a Michelin restaurant with his childhood sweetheart, Halle.
My seven-year-old son sat between them, laughing loudly.
"Mom is too boring. I wish Aunt Halle was my real mom."
Cornelius didn't defend me. He just smiled and affectionately ruffled the boy's hair.
When I finally packed my bags and left, I accidentally triggered an old AI robot prototype Cornelius had given me years ago.
A hidden recording played his voice from the very night he proposed.
"Why marry her? Because she's easy to control. Halle doesn't want to settle down yet, so Cassidy is just a perfect, temporary shield."
Later, when I caught them being intimate in a dark parking garage and snapped a photo, Cornelius watched with cold, dead eyes as his massive bodyguard shoved me against a concrete pillar.
My arm was torn open, blood dripping onto the floor, as they forced me to delete the evidence of his affair.
For seven years, I filed down every sharp edge of my brilliance for a man who saw me as nothing but a pathetic, disposable placeholder.
My heart turned to absolute ice. He thought I was just a weak, powerless housewife.
But he forgot who he was dealing with.
As his luxury car drove away, I pulled up the hidden command terminal on my phone and recovered the encrypted cloud backup of the photos.
I looked at my lawyer with a bleeding arm and a cold smile.
"Let's go. Now, we have a weapon."
8.2
My wedding to Ethan Reed was just weeks away.
After seven years, I was certain of our perfect future.
Then, Ethan claimed "selective amnesia" from a head injury, forgetting only me.
I tried to make him remember, until I overheard his video call.
"Total genius move," he boasted to friends.
His amnesia was a fake "hall pass" to pursue influencer Chloe Vance before our wedding.
Heartbroken, I feigned belief.
I endured his open flirting with Chloe and their taunting selfies.
He mocked my distress, prioritizing Chloe's fake emergency.
After an accident he caused, he abandoned me, injured, choosing to send Chloe to the hospital first.
He even tried to cut me off financially.
How could my fiancé be this cruel, calculating monster?
His betrayal poisoned every memory.
I felt like a fool for trusting such boundless cruelty.
His audacity left me reeling.
But I wouldn’t be his victim.
Instead of breaking, a cold plan formed.
I would shed my identity, become Olivia Carter.
I would disappear, leaving him, my past, and his engagement ring behind forever, claiming my freedom.
8.6
Marrying Theron Draix in a few days was a life long dream come true.
For seventeen years, I'd loved him, revolving my life around him, and in just three days, we should be married.
"Let's break up. I won't be attending the wedding," he said.
My life shattered in that instant.
Finding out he was in love with my adopted sister was worse. They had played me and controlled my emotions.
At the end, Mireya had killed me.
If I was given a second chance, I would never love Theron and never trust Mireya.
9.1
On our fourth wedding anniversary, I prepared a perfect home-cooked dinner for my husband, Carlisle.
But the moment he walked in, he threw a marital settlement agreement right onto the table.
"Sign it. Celine is back. There's no place for you here anymore."
His mother and sister immediately marched in to supervise my packing, calling me a barren gold-digger and trying to smash my late mother's only keepsake.
I signed the papers and walked out into the freezing night, thinking the nightmare was finally over.
But the next day, a heavily edited video of a childhood friend helping me into his car went viral online.
Carlisle's PR team released a public statement branding me a cheating wife, completely destroying my reputation.
He let the world tear me apart, using my ruined name to play the victim and justify bringing his first love home.
I had sacrificed my own dreams and endured his family's endless abuse for four years, only to be discarded like trash and framed for the exact emotional cheating he had been doing all along.
Watching the vile comments flood my screen, my heartbreak hardened into pure, unbreakable ice.
I calmly picked up my phone and dialed my father's number.
"Dad, it's time. I want to come home and take over Mcneil Industries."