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."

passed away—a grim reminder that not everyone had kin to mourn them

cremating and laying the deceased to rest in

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

balance of the ecosystem was shattered.

were significant. The crops needed treatment, and even with adrenaline and meds, she lost a third

Poppy couldn't bear to waste the fallen poultry. She cleaned and cooked one to see

itching farmhands volunteered to taste test, quipping, "If we're gonna hit the road, might as well

in over

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

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

farms lay neglected, the crops unharvested. Only after

her to nourish her charges

sis. Uncle Vernon's watching the farm, and Poppy's helping out

like she was holding

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

something on

"I know," Jasper replied.

aback,

"Dylan."

Rosie-floated

then.

had assumed it was related to

exposure

slightly, "Does Rosie like

had once claimed disinterest

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

a nice kid, but not someone you'd

Rosie could find someone like Jasper,

substantial dowry.

a decade, Stella spoke her

is hard to say, but she certainly