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."

efforts, several severely allergic patients passed away—a grim reminder that not everyone had kin to mourn them

the deceased to rest in a manner befitting

the day. Public service announcements reminded everyone to wash their food thoroughly and avoid touching their eyes. Those

delicate balance of the ecosystem was shattered. Resources were drained, desalination systems

with adrenaline and

to waste the fallen poultry. She cleaned and cooked one to

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

them, many hadn't tasted it in over a decade.

deceased poultry. Stella, ever generous, declared, "Cook

on poultry prepared every

vulnerable. The farms lay neglected, the crops unharvested. Only after the chemicals had dissipated

to nourish her charges back to

sis. Uncle Vernon's watching the

like

playing the role of sister and

She's got something on her

"I know," Jasper replied.

taken aback, "You know

"Dylan."

strangely warm towards Rosie-floated to the surface. They were just kids, but Stella

then.

recent demeanor, Stella had assumed

exposure of

"Does Rosie like

had once claimed

didn't matter much, but Stella couldn't help feeling that Dylan and Rosie were an odd match. Not that she wanted to judge, but Rosie had practically been raised by Stella, who hoped for a

not someone you'd count

find someone like Jasper, Stella would happily

substantial dowry.

a bed for over a decade, Stella

chuckled, "Whether Rosie likes him is hard to