Frost Apocalypse: Fiancée Invades My Shelter? I Cut Off the Thermostat

Aspen, Colorado, in the Great Snow Mountain Scenic Area.

A blizzard raged outside , tearing at the doors and windows of the log cabin .

Three layers of bulletproof glass kept the bitter cold at bay. Inside the villa, the fine oak in the French fireplace crackled.

The temperature remained constant at 75 degrees Fahrenheit, warm and soothing.

“Ed, you have to leave immediately. There’s no more hesitation.”

My cousin, Ryan, a senior security analyst at the North American Weather Defense Agency, sat on the leather sofa opposite me. He leaned forward, staring intently into my eyes, his expression more serious and anxious than ever before.

“There’s been a massive armed riot in several rare metal mining areas in Alaska. The union has cut off supply lines. If you, as the big boss, don’t personally lead a security team to quell the unrest, not only will the $30 million final payment for the second half of the year be lost, but you’ll also face impeachment from the family trust.”

Ryan said, pushing a half-empty crystal glass of bourbon whiskey towards me. Beside it lay a one-way ticket to Fairbanks, Alaska.

“The helicopter is already warming up on the helipad down the mountain, and the private jet is waiting at Denver International Airport.” My fiancée, Vera, walked over.

She was wearing a burgundy silk slip dress, her stunning figure subtly revealed in the fireplace light. She sat down naturally on the armrest beside me, her fair arms encircling my neck, her cheek pressed against my ear.

“Darling, I know it’s disappointing to send you flying to that lifeless Arctic on New Year’s Eve, but it’s the most important foundation of our marriage.” Vera’s voice was incredibly gentle, and she even kissed my cheek tenderly. “Go, make it quick, I’ll be waiting for you at home with good news.”

I kissed Vera's lips.

This is the love of my life, whom I plan to formally propose to at the Paris Yacht Show next month.

For our wedding, even though it's New Year's Eve, I have to deal with these worries.

"Alaska..." I rubbed my temples, reached for the whiskey to moisten my throat, and then grabbed the plane ticket.

Just as my fingertips were about to touch the cold crystal glass—

[Idiot! Don't take that ticket!!]

A line of crimson words, like blood splattered across the face, exploded in front of my retina without warning!

I jerked awake, my wrist twitching, nearly spilling the whiskey. I instinctively looked around, but Ryan and Vera's expressions remained unchanged; they seemed completely oblivious to the blood-red words floating in the air.

Then, as if a computer screen had been hacked, a dense, blood-red barrage of messages began to flood my screen like a waterfall. Every word carried a chilling, horrific aura:

[Don't go!! Ryan, using his access to the Weather Defense Agency, intercepted a top-secret 'Destructive Polar Vortex' warning!] Seven days later, an unprecedented -100°F (100°C) extreme cold storm will sweep across the globe, paralyzing power grids and ushering in the apocalypse!

[They sent you to that godforsaken place, Alaska, just to let you freeze to death in the blizzard!]

[Wake up, young master! Those two have been hooking up for six months! They've already set their sights on your hillside villa with its independent geothermal circulation and backup generator, using it as a post-apocalyptic safe house!]

[By the way, they even have their eyes on the most expensive bottles of Romanée-Conti champagne in your cellar, just waiting for you to die in the no-man's-land so they can throw a party on your master bedroom!]

My heart felt like it was being gripped by an invisible, icy hand.

The extreme palpitations made my eardrums ring, and even my breathing stopped for a moment.

Hallucination? No, I haven't taken any illicit drugs today, and my mental state is perfectly normal.

In that instant, countless previously ignored fragments began to rapidly piece together in my mind—why was the usually lazy Ryan so proactively concerned about the company's mining operations today? Why was Vera, this usually clingy woman, not complaining about my overtime work tonight, but instead impatiently pushing me towards the door? And Ryan, as a senior executive at the Weather Defense Agency, had been displaying a repressed fanaticism when watching the weather forecast these past few days.

These dense, blood-red bullets cruelly ripped open their gentle masks, revealing the pus and blood flowing within without reservation before my eyes.

"Ed? What's wrong? You look so pale." Vera keenly noticed my stiffness. Her hand was still gently stroking my shoulder, but what I felt was no longer tenderness, but the suffocating feeling of being coiled by a venomous snake .

"Is your heart bothering you?" Ryan also stood up, a barely perceptible hint of tension flashing deep in his eyes.

He was probably afraid I'd suddenly die at home, attracting an FBI investigation and preventing him from legitimately inheriting the property.

Deep breath. I screamed to myself: Ed, calm down. Whether these damned barrages of comments are warnings from a higher dimension or God's mercy, you absolutely cannot alert him now.

"Nothing..." I blinked hard, letting the barrages on my retina fade.

I slowly exhaled, picked up the whiskey, and downed it in one gulp. The pungent alcohol burned down my throat and stomach, barely suppressing the surging, murderous intent in my eyes.

"I think you're right."

I put down my glass, picked up the plane ticket on the table, stuffed it into my coat pocket, and forced an impeccable smile.

"This remaining thirty million cannot be lost. I'll go to Fairbanks myself. Where's the helicopter? I'm leaving now."

Ryan's shoulders visibly relaxed, his eyes almost bursting with barely suppressed elation. But he still patted my shoulder in a mocking manner: "Good brother, that's the kind of decisiveness a family leader should have. Go ahead with peace of mind. It's cold over there, but as long as we suppress the strike with swift and decisive action, you can go back to Aspen for a long vacation in a few days."

"Yeah, darling." Vera also stood up, straightened my collar, and left a cheap kiss on my lips. "Take care to keep warm."

Keep warm? I let out an extremely cruel sneer in my heart.

If what the comments said was true, in seven days, that place would become a living hell where even blood would freeze in three seconds.

"Of course, I will." I squeezed Vera's hand back, then turned my gaze to Ryan. I took out a fingerprint backup decryption board from my inside pocket, along with a heavy brass backup key, and handed it to him.

“I’ll probably be gone for several days. The snow is heavy in the mountains, so neither of you should go back to the city. This is the access code for the smart control system on the first floor of the villa. Drink as much wine as you want in the cellar, and remember to eat the Alba white truffles in the kitchen before they spoil. I’ll be entrusting you with taking good care of the ‘home’ for me these next few days.”

I emphasized the words “

take good care of the home.”

Ryan almost trembled as he took the decryption panel, clutching it tightly as if it were the supreme scepter of life in a post-apocalyptic world. “Leave it to me, Ed,” Ryan said, looking at me with those hypocritical eyes. “Treat this place like your own home.”

“That’s good.”

I turned and pushed open the heavy oak door of the villa.

A biting wind mixed with snowflakes instantly rushed towards me, scraping my face like knives, but it completely calmed my racing nerves. In the distance, the helicopter rotors on the mountainside helipad were already humming in the wind.

I strode into the snowstorm without looking back.

Ryan, Vera, enjoy the last, most luxurious seven days of your lives.

For the rest of your lives, you will spend them forever in the freezer of hell.