Ethan paused, leaned closer to Sarah, lowered his voice, and whispered coldly, making sure Sarah understood the gravity of the situation. "What if she resists? We'll let the flood swallow her. Just like it will swallow anyone who gets in its way. This isn't a game, Sarah. The flood is real, and only those with money, supplies, and a safe house will survive. Rosie has money, and she can find a safe house—but ultimately, it will all belong to me. I won't let her take advantage of me."
Sarah nodded eagerly, scrambling out of bed to dress, chattering incessantly about how much money they would have and how they would rule the ruins of the city after the flood. Ethan paid no attention, his thoughts drifting back to Rosie—her arrogance, her naiveté, and her belief that she could keep all her secrets from him. He knew she had money, knew she was preparing for the flood, knew she was looking for a safe house. But he didn't know where that safe house was; that was the only suspense. He would monitor her every move, track her every step of the way, and once she found it, he would take it. He didn't need luck—he just needed to track Rosie down, take her money, and get the safe house. He didn't care how she found it—he just needed to be there when she did. This time, he would be the survivor—and Rosie would pay for her attempt to outmaneuver him.
Meanwhile, in her bedroom, Rosie clutched the black folder tightly to her chest, listening intently for any sound in the hallway. She heard Ethan and Sarah talking—their voices were faint and indistinct, but she caught snippets of words: "follow her," "supplies," "take everything," "flood," "safe house." Her heart sank, but she didn't panic. She knew they would become suspicious, knew they would try to stop her. She even knew Ethan might have sensed the flood—his recent behavior was far too cautious, too focused on survival, and that was no coincidence. But she wasn't worried—because she held a secret he would never discover. She gently stroked the silver necklace around her neck, the small pendant warm against her skin—it contained not only a small map leading to a secret safe house deep in the mountains, far from the city, but also wireless storage. Ethan could track her, trace her supplies, and even guess where she was hiding. He might wonder how she found it with such confidence, or how she planned to conceal her supplies—but he would never know the truth, never uncover her secret. The necklace's wireless storage was her greatest advantage, her last line of defense, and the source of the ruthless hatred that drove her to everything.
Her spare phone vibrated slightly in her boot—a text message from Mr. Henderson: Transfer initiated. Completed by tomorrow afternoon. Without a trace. A faint, cold smile played on her lips. Tomorrow, she would have the money. Tomorrow, she would hire a private security team to buy supplies in small, frequent installments, then store all the supplies in the necklace's wireless storage, so that Ethan and Sarah would not discover any trace of them. Afterward, she would head into the mountains to confirm the location of the safe house—using the map in the necklace, a place Ethan would never expect. Ethan and Sarah could plan as they pleased, but Rosie knew the flood was coming, and she possessed a survival secret he could never access: the necklace's wireless storage and that hidden safe house.