Chapter 3: Max Out His Card
*[Phoenixa's POV]
I broke into a sudden smile and reached over to straighten her shoulder strap.
"Just messing with you."
Dilia visibly exhaled.
"You scared me to death!"
"By the way—your birthday's coming up soon, isn't it?" I said.
Her eyes lit up the moment I brought it up.
"In two weeks! I've already booked the venue."
"Then get ready properly," I said, smiling more sincerely than she was. "I'll definitely be there."
Before long, Dilia would pull something even worse—and I had plans of my own…
Dilia caught nothing in my tone. She even spun in place, her skirt flaring out.
"That day, I'll be the most beautiful woman in the room."
"Mm." I nodded. "I'm looking forward to it too."
Looking forward to watching you cry.
At last, satisfied, she left.
I pushed my cart on and kept hauling.
First, I grabbed two huge hiking backpacks—easy to carry supplies on the go.
For warmth: five windproof, waterproof down jackets, five thermal assault jackets, five pairs of snow boots, five pairs of insulated gloves, a whole case of heat packs, and a whole case of thermal face masks.
For food, I took only what fills you up best and packs the most calories—compressed biscuits, instant porridge, chocolate, energy bars.
I put them in cart after cart, case by case.
Two cases each of water and sports drinks.
I also tossed in a few sets of underwear and socks, plus sanitary pads—a must for any woman.
Anything that keeps you alive—in.
Anything that keeps you warm—in.
Anything that stores long-term—in.
The cart towered like a small hill.
At checkout, I slid a card from my wallet.
Cecil's.
Beep—
Payment approved.
I stared at the total on the receipt, and for the first time in a long while, I actually felt good.
"Again."
I pushed ten carts through in one go.
Every successful swipe felt like another slap across Cecil's face.
Didn't he think I was ugly, useless, unworthy of living?
Turns out his money suited me just fine.
The supplies were delivered batch by batch to the underground parking lot. When no one was around, I stuffed them all into the car's trunk.
In an instant, they vanished!
The trunk still looked perfectly empty.
I'd discovered it before. Whatever I put in that trunk, it stayed as good as empty.
But when I pictured what I wanted, I could reach in and pull it out.
Unlimited storage, easy retrieval.
Thank God—this trunk was incredible.
Why worry about where to put survival supplies?
Next up: the safe house.
I drove to the outskirts of the city.
In my last life, while scavenging, I'd stumbled on an abandoned air-raid shelter.
Out of the way, but the main structure was intact, and the heavy metal door was still there—only the lock was broken.
I pushed aside weeds taller than a person and looked at that door, unable to hold back a grin.
"Fix the door, insulate, ventilate, wire up power."
"Tidy up the inside, and this is a perfect, warm little safe house."
…
A few days later.
I was in the garage loading medicine into the trunk when a syrupy voice drifted in from the living room.
"Dearest bestie! Where are you?"
My hands froze mid-motion.
Dilia.
These past few days, Cecil had kept claiming he was "on a business trip."
But I knew exactly whose bed his business trips landed in.
I placed the last roll of gauze in the trunk, shut the door, and walked into the living room.
Dilia was sitting on my couch, toying with one of Cecil's wristwatches.
That watch—I gave it to him.
There was a love bite on her neck she hadn't quite covered.
And a faint trace of cologne clung to her.
Cecil's usual scent, too.
When she saw me, she actually had the nerve to set the watch back on the table as if nothing happened.
"There you are."
I stared at her neck for two seconds.
She noticed, and quickly raised a hand to smooth her hair.
"Mosquito bite."
"Oh."
I nodded. "Big-mouthed mosquito."
Dilia's expression stiffened.
I didn't give her a chance to explain. "What do you want?"
She instantly switched to a troubled look, eyes welling up on command.
"Phoenixa, something's come up."
"You're in debt?" I asked.
She froze. "How did you know?"
Of course I knew.
On this exact day in my last life, she'd sat before me just like this, crying about owing money, about collectors hounding her, about having nowhere to turn.
Then she coaxed me into selling my premarital apartment to bail her out.
And I actually sold it.
She used my money to pay off her debts, buy jewelry, and book hotel rooms with my husband.
After the apocalypse, she took my supplies and kicked me out.
Looking back, last life's me wasn't kind—she just had her head wedged in a door!
"Just a guess." I sat across from her. "Go on."
Dilia immediately grabbed my hand.
"I knew you'd understand me best."
I nearly yanked my hand back, but held still.
"I really have no way out. The creditors are pressing hard. I can't sleep at night."
As she spoke, tears began to fall.
"You and Cecil aren't short on money. That premarital apartment of yours is sitting empty anyway—so… sell it? Give me the money."
I said nothing.
She must have been certain she was my husband's true love, certain I'd soften, certain she could get her hands on my property.
Taking my silence for wavering, she upped the ante.
"It's not for free! I swear—three years, three years at most, I'll pay every cent back."
"Three years?"
"Yes!"
"And the interest?"
She froze again.
"We're charging interest now—between us?"
I smiled. "Why shouldn't we, between us?"
Her pitiful expression was about to crack.
"Phoenixa, we've been friends for twelve years."
"So?"
"So you can help me right now—why won't you?" Her voice started to climb. "It's not like you're short on money!"
At last, she couldn't keep up the act.
Slowly, I pulled my hand from her grip.
"First—that's my premarital property."
"Second—your debt isn't my debt."
"Third—"
I glanced at the love bite on her neck, then at the watch on the table.
"Don't you know a very wealthy man?"
Dilia's face went dead white.
"W-what do you mean?"
"Nothing." I stood. "You want money? Go to the person willing to give you some."
"Don't come to me. I'm not a free ATM."
"Phoenixa!"
She shot to her feet too, finally too furious to keep up appearances.
"What's happened to you? You never used to be like this!"
"That's a shame." I pulled the door open. "The old Phoenixa is dead."
Dilia's face twisted. "You—"
"Get out."
"You'll regret this!"
"Out!"
I shoved her straight out the door.
Her high heels nearly buckled. She turned and glared. "Phoenixa! You'd throw away a friend over a little money?"
I laughed.
"A little money?"
"Then pay it back yourself."
Slam!
The door shut in her face.
I locked it.
Silence outside for a few seconds.
Then I heard her, voice lowered, curse through gritted teeth.
"You bitch…"
Then the sound of her dialing.
"Cecil, she's really not right."
"She won't agree to the apartment."
"I don't care! You have to figure something out for that debt."
When she hung up, she hissed one more line, still keeping her voice down.
"Phoenixa, I swear I'm going to take everything you have!"
