18 Floors Above the Apocalypse

Chapter 592

Stella had had enough. She pulled Bran aside to a quiet corner and let him have it. "Can you think before you speak? Five days and nights without sleep? I'd be dead by now. And could you at least try to sound a bit more sophisticated? You're making me sound like a snake oil salesman or some sketchy pyramid scheme operator."

Bran shrugged off her criticism, "Sis, you're just too pampered with your fancy dinners to understand the struggles of regular folks. That's why you're all about depth and nuance."

"What are you even talking about?" Stella fumed. Had he lost his grip on reality, or had she lost her edge?

Bran, who wouldn't touch a meal that wasn't five-star, wore diamond-studded flip- flops, and thought nothing of splurging millions in a single night out with models, had the nerve to call her out of touch?

Oh, the irony. Just yesterday, she had hustled for a meager paycheck, enduring his scolding and finger-pointing.

Sorry, but Bran, a man who thought he'd seen it all, had no recollection of any hardworking sister.

Facing Stella's irritation, Bran was not only unafraid but also brimming with confidence. "Sis, we're targeting the grassroots market here. We need to be relatable and grab their attention. Philosophy and poetry won't cut it. A simple gesture like handing out a baked potato would have a bigger impact. As long as the treatment works and they benefit, who cares about the hype? You focus on healing, I'll handle the rest..."

Stella felt mortified. "..."

Bran, tired of playing it safe, teased her, "C'mon, sis, I remember you used to have thicker skin. What's with the sudden shyness? Shine with confidence!"

"Get lost."

He assured her with a thump on his chest, "You just concentrate on the healing. Leave the rest to me. Don't worry about a thing."

But it all felt so... low class.

Whatever. If the reputation tanks someday, she hadn't said a word—it was all Bran.

Suddenly, Stella's confidence surged, and she let him do his thing.

Tacky, perhaps, but effective nonetheless.

Stella's returning patients were overflowing with gratitude.

She responded with polite modesty, "No thanks needed. Just doing my job."

patients passed away—a grim reminder that not everyone had

and laying the deceased to rest

moth plague raged for seven days, each day a battle. As their numbers dwindled to none, caution was still the order of the day.

of the ecosystem was shattered. Resources were drained, desalination

with adrenaline and meds, she

the fallen poultry. She cleaned and cooked one to see if it

we're gonna hit the road, might as well not do it

rare luxury for them, many hadn't tasted it in over a decade. And in the end, no one

do with the rest of the deceased poultry. Stella, ever generous, declared, "Cook them all. It'll be a bonus meal for

a week, everyone feasted on poultry prepared every way imaginable, sparking envy throughout

subsided, those who survived found themselves weakened and vulnerable. The farms lay neglected, the crops unharvested. Only after the

instincts kicked in, urging her to nourish

remained upbeat. "I'm fine, sis. Uncle Vernon's watching the

off, like she was holding

playing the role of sister and mother,

She's got something

"I know," Jasper replied.

was taken aback, "You

"Dylan."

spectrum, yet strangely warm towards Rosie-floated to the surface. They were just kids, but Stella hadn't paid

then.

Stella had assumed it was

exposure

"Does

had once claimed disinterest in

that she wanted to judge, but Rosie had practically been raised by Stella, who hoped for a love that was Rosie's equal-someone to

nice kid, but not someone you'd count on in

Rosie could find someone like Jasper, Stella

substantial dowry.

a bed for over a decade,

is hard to say, but