Dustin looked like I had hit him with a bolt from out of the blue. I could see he was itching to make a deal, but he played it cool, asking me what had gotten under my skin to come to him so suddenly.

If I went around talking about being reborn after the apocalypse, people would think I was insane. Even if he did buy into my story, I would not spill the beans to him.

After all, it was his dirty tricks that had sent my dad to an early grave, choking on his own rage when his project went south.

With the clock ticking, I played the innocent card. "Mr. Hill, my friend has this investment lined up that will triple our money! However, you know the drill. When my old man kicked the bucket, he made sure I was set for life, turning most of my inheritance into real estate. That left me pretty strapped for cash. And the only guy I know who can cough up that kind of dough so fast is you, Mr. Hill. So..."

Dustin's eyes danced with a wicked glee as he agreed to my pitch.

However, the guy was a shark, only willing to fork over 70 percent of what my properties were worth on the market.

We were talking about a cool 45 million dollars in assets, which meant I only got 31.5 million out of him.

I clenched my jaw and took the deal.

Dustin was all smiles, practically tripping over himself to get me to sign on the dotted line, promising to wire the cash in a month.

I put the brakes on that. "Mr. Hill, my friend says this deal's got only ten days left on the clock, so I need that money this week."

Dustin scowled, and I let out a weary sigh. "If that's too much to ask, then let's just forget the whole thing."

Like a hawk on a mouse, Dustin pounced, saying, "A week it is!"

We inked the deal, and Dustin handed over a cool 15 million dollars upfront, agreeing to settle the rest within the week.

I caught Dustin's smug grin and could not help but scoff to myself. 'When the apocalypse comes, you'll see. All this will be nothing but trash.'

After leaving Dustin's place, I made a beeline for Zephyr City's grandest funeral home. The ambiance was serene, with soft lighting and the mingling fragrances of lilies and candles. A somber-suited funeral manager approached me, his voice deep and courteous as he said, "Good afternoon. Whose funeral is it?"

I cut to the chase. "I need a funeral. The most lavish one you can pull off. Don't worry about the cost."

The manager blinked, taken aback. Then, he asked, "Forgive me, but whose funeral are we planning?"

I pressed my lips together. "Mine."

He looked at me, a mix of concern and curiosity in his eyes, and asked gently, "Are you sick, or in some kind of trouble?"

I offered a wry smile. "You could say that. If I don't get this funeral sorted, I may not last much longer."

His eyes lit up with a mix of intrigue and understanding. "Did you get some kind of omen or advice from a sage to do this?"

I picked up where the manager left off. "Sounds about right. I want you to put together the most extravagant funeral you can imagine. Let's start with a budget of 30 million dollars. If we need more, I'll let you know. And schedule it for the 21st."

In my previous life, the apocalypse hit on the 22nd. If I got the funeral out of the way by the 21st, I could kick back at home and watch the world crumble.

The manager looked like he had seen a ghost. He sputtered, "Your budget is... What? Thirty million dollars? You're pulling my leg, right?"

I did not waste time with explanations. I just had him give me the account details.

A few taps on my phone, and the 15-million-dollar deposit was on its way.

The manager was frozen, staring at the transaction alert for a good ten minutes before he snapped out of it, hands shaking with barely contained excitement.

I said calmly, "Consider that a downpayment. I'll pay the rest on the day. We're on a tight schedule; the funeral has to be on the 21st."

His eyes lit up, and he was all deference and urgency as he said, "Please rest assured. Whatever you may request, I'll make it happen, no matter the cost."

I nodded and laid out my demands. "Out of the 30-million-dollar budget, set aside 15 million for gold coins settled in my coffin.

"I also need a top-of-the-line mahogany coffin with a velvet lining. For the flowers, the hall should be drowning in lilies, white roses, and orchids. Set aside 1.5 million for them.

"And I want a choir and a string quartet for the whole shebang. I demand a procession of sleek black luxury cars and the finest hearse in Zephyr City. So 7.5 million was meant for them.

"Please prepare soldiers cut from paper, and let them stand together with white flowers to guard my coffin. 4.5 million. Make the paper soldiers as much as possible.

"As for my final resting place, I want a grand, timeless mausoleum, not a run-of-the-mill cemetery plot. Allocate 1.5 million for that.

"This funeral will have one theme: unprecedented luxury. It will be the talk of the town, forever etched in one's memory.

"And listen up, don't even think about cutting corners with bulk orders. I'll be checking. If anything's not up to my standard, forget about seeing the rest of your money!

"If costs run over, just be straight with me, and I'll wire the extra funds."

The manager mulled over my words, then said, "This is a big ask, and it must be perfect. I can't pull this off alone."

I nodded. "Get your team together, then."

He dashed to the back of the shop and slammed a button. Moments later, every funeral manager on the block had bolted their doors and swarmed in, packing the place tight.

With a megaphone in hand, the manager pointed at me and bellowed, "Big news, Funeral Avenue! This lady's dropping 30 million on her own send-off!"

All eyes snapped toward me, wide with a mix of awe and the kind of concern one gives to someone with a terminal diagnosis.

Whipping out his phone, the manager hollered, "She's good for it, too. I've received 15 million dollars in deposit, already in the bank!"

The crowd's eyes sparkled at the sight of the confirmation text. They clamored over each other, asking, "What's the lady's vision?"

I snatched the megaphone from the manager. "I've already told him what we need, and he'll fill you in soon. Just get everything ready as I've asked."

I paused for effect. "And if you manage to get it all done early, I'll throw in an extra three million bucks!"

Eyes wide with anticipation, the crowd watched as I passed the megaphone back to the manager.

Stepping off Funeral Avenue, my phone buzzed to life. It was Christopher.

He must have gotten Sally home and realized I was missing.

I picked up, and Christopher's voice came through, laced with concern, asking, "Honey, where are you?"

I held my bitterness back and said, "Just some last-minute stuff at work. Did your mom get home okay?"

Christopher grunted a yes. "Mom's been worried sick about how hard you've been working. She didn't even stop to rest after the drive. She kept going on about making her special spaghetti with tomato sauce!"

An icy smirk played on my lips. In my previous life, this mother-son pair played me like a fiddle with that so-called 'mom-flavored' spaghetti to win over my heart.

However, back then, I was none the wiser.

However, reborn with a vengeance, I would live by one rule: if one were to cross me, I would pay it back a hundred times over.

I clutched the phone tightly. "Your mom's the only one who gets it. I'll be tied up here for another couple of hours. Tell her I'm craving her grilled lamb chops, barbeque pork ribs, and that homemade pie mash she makes..."

I rattled off a list of dishes that were notoriously tricky to whip up.

On the other end of the line, Christopher tried to cut in, but I steamrolled right ahead.

"For the main dish, I'm craving your mom's homemade pumpkin soup and her beef and kimchi noodles."

Once I finished, Christopher, a bit flustered, said, "Honey, that's quite a spread you're asking for. Are you sure we can eat all that?"

I played the innocent act. "Oh, well, then just make a tiny bit of each!"

That left Christopher speechless for a moment, scrambling for a response.

I did not give him the chance. "Babe, I have to run. I'm swamped with work. I need to wrap up so I can get home early for the feast your mom's putting together for me!"

I did not wait for his reply; I just hung up.

A smirk played on my lips as I powered my phone off, headed to the salon, and indulged in a relaxing spa session.

Lying there, pampered and at ease, I plotted my day.

The funeral's total expenses, including the bonuses I had promised, came to 33 million dollars.

Any surplus, and I would have to cut another check for the manager.

Next on my list was securing a venue for the funeral, spacious enough for the sea of flowers. That was another hefty chunk of change.

With flowers galore, their arrangement was another puzzle to solve, likely needing a bit of palm greasing to get it done right.

I also had to stockpile plenty of food, water, medicine, and other essentials. That was money, too.

After the house sale, I was still short a whopping 7.5 million dollars.

I eyed my jewelry collection. In a real crunch, it could fetch around three million.

However, that left a 4.5 million dollar gap. What should I do?

Then, it hit me, and I could not help but grin.

I had nearly forgotten the hefty sums Christopher had siphoned off over the years. That should square things, right?

I was just reaching my front door when Sally's voice, laced with venom, reached my ears, her words tangled with Christopher's.

"Chris, Jessica is such a snake. It's late, and she's not back yet. You think she's toying with us?"

Christopher's laugh was like ice. "No way. She's probably tied up with some company mess!"

Sally's voice was thick with disdain. "I've cooked all that food for her. She'll eat herself into an early grave."

Her tone took a sharp turn. "Hey, Chris, Howard's almost ready for school, and you and Chloe can't keep living like this. Let's figure out how to snag her houses, too."

Christopher's words were laced with poison. "That's exactly why you're here. If it wasn't for her old man's last wish, I'd have had the houses by now. A will? It's just a piece of paper. It'll all be mine soon enough."

Sally's laugh was full of false pride. "That's my boy, always the smart one."

I pushed the door open with a frosty half-smile, catching the two smug figures off guard as they scrambled to their feet.

Christopher, ever the rock, greeted me. "You're home!"

I nodded and glanced at Sally. "I appreciate you looking after me."

Sally offered an awkward chuckle. "No need for thanks between family. In my eyes, you're like my daughter. I couldn't rest easily without taking care of you myself. Your favorite dishes are ready. Let's eat."