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

the deceased to rest in a manner

caution was still the order of the day. Public service

delicate balance of the ecosystem was shattered. Resources

were significant. The crops needed treatment, and even with adrenaline

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

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

a rare luxury for them, many hadn't tasted it in over

of the deceased poultry. Stella, ever generous, declared, "Cook them all. It'll be

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

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

nourish her charges back

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

something seemed off, like she was holding something

playing the role of sister and mother,

got something on

"I know," Jasper replied.

aback,

"Dylan."

of Austin's precious son-shy, introverted, possibly on the spectrum, yet strangely warm towards Rosie-floated to the surface. They were just kids, but Stella hadn't paid much

then.

Rosie's recent demeanor, Stella had assumed it

exposure of their

frowned slightly, "Does

had once claimed disinterest

Rosie had practically been raised by Stella, who hoped for a love that was Rosie's equal-someone to protect her

kid, but not someone you'd count

only Rosie could find someone like Jasper, Stella would

substantial dowry.

a bed for over a decade, Stella spoke

him is