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."

allergic patients passed away—a grim reminder that not

hospital took charge, cremating and laying the deceased to

raged for seven days, each day a battle. As their numbers dwindled to none, caution was still the order of the day. Public service announcements reminded everyone to wash

the ecosystem was shattered.

even with adrenaline and meds, she lost

Poppy couldn't bear to waste the fallen poultry. She

to taste test, quipping, "If we're gonna hit the road, might as well not

them, many hadn't tasted it in over a

sought Stella's advice on what to do with the rest of the deceased poultry. Stella, ever generous, declared,

week, everyone feasted on poultry prepared every way imaginable, sparking

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

urging her to nourish her charges

tired, remained upbeat. "I'm fine, sis. Uncle Vernon's watching the farm, and Poppy's helping out

off, like she was holding something

the role of sister and mother, reminded Jasper, "Keep

got something on

"I know," Jasper replied.

was taken aback, "You

"Dylan."

Austin's precious son-shy, introverted, possibly on the spectrum, yet strangely warm towards Rosie-floated to the

then.

Rosie's recent demeanor, Stella had assumed

exposure of

frowned slightly, "Does

once claimed disinterest

wanted to judge, but Rosie had practically been raised by Stella, who hoped for a

but not someone you'd count on in

only Rosie could find someone like Jasper,

substantial dowry.

over a decade, Stella

him is hard to say, but she certainly