The moment the deal closes, I bring in a construction crew with one demand only: turn this underground mall into a real doomsday bunker within seven days.
Basement level one becomes the power room and a defensive buffer zone. Basement level two becomes the storage bay, the cold storage vault, and the medical bay. Basement level three becomes the living quarters. Three reinforced blast doors go in at the entrance. Every corridor gets isolation gates and electronic locks, and every exposed window is sealed shut. The vents get filtration systems and anti-backflow valves installed. Cameras cover every blind spot.
After hearing my full list of demands, the foreman's face turns pale. "Boss, are you renovating a mall or building a bomb shelter?"
I look at him. "Is the money enough?"
"More than enough. As long as the money's there, forget a shelter. I'll build you an underground palace."
On the spot, I hand over a five hundred thousand deposit. The moment the foreman sees the payment notification, the suspicion on his face melts into eagerness. "Don't worry, boss. I guarantee it'll be done in seven days."
With the bunker renovation underway, I start the real stockpiling.
Food, water, supplies, fuel, cold weather gear. Anything that could save a life. Whatever the apocalypse demands, I buy it all. Fuel by the ton, medicine by the crate, food by the warehouse. Surveillance and protective gear are maxed out across the board.
Salt, antibiotics, fever medicine, disinfectants — these are the priorities. In seven days, a single small bag of salt will be worth people fighting to the death over. In this apocalypse, a box of antibiotics might as well be a second life.
I buy up a batch of frozen meat rejected by a supermarket chain's canceled order. Beef, lamb chops, chicken legs, frozen shrimp, ready-to-cook meals, all fully certified. The only reason it's up for grabs is that the order fell through and it's just taking up cold storage space.
When the manager sees me order twenty truckloads in one go, his eyes go wide. "You sure you want all of it, kid? That's a lot. Do you even have somewhere to store it?"
I nod. "The cold storage vault's already ready."
What he doesn't know is that to him, this is just clearing inventory. But to me, it's my survival for years to come. Once the snow hits, the city loses power, supermarkets get stripped bare, and logistics collapse entirely. By then, half a block of frozen meat is worth fighting to the death for.
At eight that night, twenty refrigerated trucks pull into the underground mall, one after another. Crate after crate of beef, lamb chops, chicken legs, frozen shrimp, and ready-made meals are hauled into the freezer vault. The construction crew stares in disbelief.
The foreman can't help but ask, "Boss, are you opening a supermarket chain?"
"Close enough."
What they don't know is that in seven days, every supermarket will be rubble, every cold storage room a battleground, and the bunker beneath my feet will become the safest place in the entire city.
Over the following days, the once cold, damp underground mall is completely transformed. The power room, storage bay, medical bay, and living quarters are all sectioned off and finished. The diesel generators, battery banks, and fuel reserves are wired into an independent grid. Even if the city's power grid collapses entirely, this place keeps running.
Basement level three, the living quarters, is finished exactly to my specifications. Bedrooms, a kitchen, a medical room, a gym, a control room, a grow room. Everything's here. The water recycling and air filtration systems are running smoothly, and there's even a small home theater.
I don't just want to survive. I want to live well. In my past life, I suffered enough. Moldy bread, filthy frozen water, scraps other people had already picked over. I never want to touch any of that again as long as I live.
On the final night of the countdown, the crew finishes installing the last blast door. The foreman pats the heavy panel, beaming with pride. "Mr. Nichols, you can trust this door. Forget a normal person. Even a car ramming into it wouldn't budge."
I look at the heavy alloy door and nod, satisfied. A car definitely won't get through. But after tonight, what comes knocking might not be a car at all.
Once the final payment clears, the crew departs. The heavy blast door slowly swings shut. A single click, and the entire underground mall is completely sealed off from the outside world.
I stand in the control room, watching dozens of screens light up at once. The main entrance, the backup passages, the vents, the underground parking garage, and the surrounding streets. I'd already hidden cameras on street lights, abandoned electrical boxes, and behind billboards. I'd also bought up access to the old surveillance systems of a few nearby shops. Right now, every single feed plays clearly before my eyes.
The bunker is fully complete, and every supply is fully stocked. Down in the storage bay on basement level two, rows of shelves stand silently under the light. Grain, canned goods, ration bars, medicine, tools, protective gear, and emergency equipment, all sealed off by zone. Every door has both an electronic and a mechanical lock, and every corridor sits within camera range.
I go down my checklist item by item. Food, water, medicine, fuel, heating, purification systems, defense systems — all accounted for.
That's when my phone rings. Caller ID: Vivien Lane.
I answer, and her impatient voice comes through immediately. "Ethan, what is wrong with you? I texted you. Why haven't you answered? My mom says if you don't transfer the house, this wedding is off. And I heard from Derek that you mortgaged the house. Have you lost your mind? That was supposed to be our wedding home."
I say flatly, "Vivien, that house was left to me by my parents. It has nothing to do with you."
Her voice instantly turns sharp. "Ethan, are you seriously calculating with me right now? I'm your fiancée. You call yourself a man and you can't even give me a house, and you say you love me?"
If this were my past life, hearing that would have sent me into a panic, apologizing on the spot, explaining myself, trying to soothe her, grinding my last bit of dignity into dust. But now I just find it laughable.
"Vivien, didn't you want security?"
Her tone finally softens a little. "Now that's more like it. So tomorrow—"
I cut her off directly. "Go find Derek. He's got plenty of security for you."
The other end of the line goes dead silent. A few seconds later, she shrieks, furious. "Ethan, are you out of your mind? How dare you talk to me like that? You think I won't cancel the wedding right now?"
"Go ahead and cancel. And while you're at it, tell your mom the bride price is off, too. Remember to refund me half the wedding photo fee."
I hang up right after saying it.
The next second, texts from Vivien start flooding in. "Ethan, you're finished. It's still not too late to apologize. Let me tell you, plenty of guys are chasing me. Derek understands things a lot better than you do. Don't you dare regret this."
I stare at that last line. Regret?
I turn off the phone. In seven days, the ones who will be full of regret are the two of you.