The Apocalypse Survival Manual (Three Days Before Doomsday, I Stockpiled Billions) novel Chapter 490

Chapter 490

Nicole and Zeph didn’t really have any friends, so they had held their own housewarming long ago. They celebrated with foie gras, wagyu, caviar wrapped in ham, and a bottle of vintage wine.

Cola got his share, too, and licked his plate spotless.

Since Sven was a neighbor they saw every day, Nicole had no reason to refuse. “Sure.”

“Just bring yourselves. No gifts.” Knowing how much Brandon enjoyed playing with Poppy, Sven added, “And don’t forget to bring Poppy and Cola.”

Life in the villa was a little lonely with just the two of them. Whenever Weasel and the others weren’t working, they would come over to eat, play cards, or just hang out.

The days were comfortable enough. Just a little dull.

Other than becoming unusually enthusiastic whenever the curtains were drawn, Zeph spent most of his time working, reading, sparring, eating, and sleeping.

Nicole was almost always the one who kept the conversation going.

That night, as they lay in bed, she reached over and poked him in the side. “Sven’s housewarming is tomorrow. What should we bring?”

Zeph had never been good at social etiquette. After giving it some thought, he said, “A bottle of liquor and a carton of cigarettes?”

Sven wasn’t lacking in supplies, so lunch was sure to be generous. The four of them, especially Cola, certainly weren’t light eaters.

Nicole nodded. “Sounds good.”

Early the next morning, the house next door was already buzzing with activity.

More than a dozen of Weasel’s men had arrived with their families. Laughter filled the yard as the women chatted and joked while groups of children chased one another around.

Nicole had never liked crowded gatherings, especially with people she barely knew.

Fortunately, the soundproof windows blocked out most of the noise, and she quickly closed them.

A little after 11 a.m., the intercom crackled to life.

“Zeph, bring Nicole and the others over. Lunch is ready.”

A few minutes later, Brandon knocked on the door. Behind him stood several children, all there to pick up Poppy and Cola.

Gift in hand, the whole family headed next door.

The moment they stepped outside, Brandon hurried over. “I’m here to play with Poppy.”

He held out a piece of candy.

Poppy didn’t reach for it right away. Instead, she instinctively looked at Zeph.

Zeph gave a slight nod. “Tell Brandon thank you.”

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Poppy accepted the candy with a polite thank-you, but instead of eating it, she tucked it into her pocket.

Brandon grabbed her hand and eagerly led her toward the house. “We have a swing! I’ll let you try it.”

Compared to Brandon and Poppy, the other children were noticeably thinner, with faded clothes and worn-out shoes. Even so, they were still far better off than most children scraping by at the bottom of society. They just looked oddly out of place in the villa district.

As soon as they stepped into the front yard, they found Weasel getting his ear twisted by a tall woman in a red dress.

“Do you ever listen?”

It clearly hurt, but Weasel could only plead under his breath. “Ow… Honey, easy. It’s the boss’s housewarming. Don’t embarrass me in front of everyone.”

The contrast between them couldn’t have been greater. He was short, skinny, and plain-looking. She was-tall, glamorous, and gorgeous.

Nicole finally understood why Weasel had been so desperate to buy a house here. If she had married a woman like that… Maybe giving up a kidney wouldn’t have seemed so bad.

Standing beside his wife, Weasel looked painfully average.

The woman noticed them and froze for a beat before quickly letting go of Weasel’s ear and slipping the offending

hand behind her back.

Weasel rubbed his ear, then immediately broke into a broad grin. “You’re here! Come on, let me introduce you. This is my wife, Stella.”

Nicole smiled. “Nice to meet you, Stella.”

So she had guessed right. Even in the apocalypse, Weasel doted on his wife. He never fought back when she hit him or argued when she scolded him. He treated her like she was made of glass.

Stella Nixon looked surprised. “I saw you two a few days ago, on the third floor of our apartment building.”

So this was the famous Nicole Weasel was always talking about. Stella had pictured someone in her thirties or forties. Instead, Nicole looked barely twenty.

Young, beautiful, with fair skin and striking features, she seemed almost out of place in a world ravaged by disaster. For the first time in years, Stella, who had always been confident in her looks, found herself feeling

overshadowed.

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