Chapter 3

Watching the neighbors scramble away with my goods, Faith grinned ear to ear. She even called after them, "Watch your step, everyone!"

She completely disregarded the murderous rage in my eyes.

Seeing me pull out my phone to dial 911, she smirked smugly from the side. "Zoey, they can't arrest an entire crowd."

"I don't know if the law can punish a mob," I said coldly, "but I know for a fact it can arrest a thief."

The smug grin vanished from her face instantly.

"What thief?"

I gave her an indifferent smirk.

"My belongings vanished from my home."

"If a thief didn't steal them, did they sprout wings and fly down here on their own?"

Faith immediately caught my drift. Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You're calling the cops on me?"

"I just borrowed a few cheap boxes of groceries! Are you really turning on family over some junk?"

She used the word "borrowed" with astonishing shamelessness.

Only when the dispatcher's voice crackled through the speaker did she panic.

She slapped the screen to end the call, her voice cracking. "How much was it? I'll pay you back, okay?!"

"Fifteen hundred dollars."

Hearing that number, Faith nearly jumped out of her skin. "Are you insane?! That's extortion!"

I spread my hands nonchalantly. "Then by all means, call the police on me. We can share a holding cell and keep each other company."

Faced with jail time, Faith bitterly unlocked her phone and transferred the money to my account.

I didn't demand that specific amount because I was broke.

In my past life, while mooching off my resources, she had bragged non-stop to her college friends on SnapChat that her family sent her fifteen hundred dollars a month in allowance.

Now, her checking account was down to zero.

I wanted to see how she planned to survive once the flood hit.

That night, I curled up on my bed, staring happily at my updated bank balance.

I resolved to hit the wholesale warehouse first thing in the morning to restock.

The thought of sitting safely in my fortified room, grilling steaks and singing along to music while the rain poured outside and they froze and starved in the dark, brought me pure satisfaction.

Just as I was debating whether to have hotpot or barbecue the following night, a knock sounded at the front door.

I checked the peephole. Seeing it was Mrs. Gable from across the hall, I breathed a sigh of relief and unlocked the door.

Ever since I moved in, Mrs. Gable had always looked out for me.

Whenever she saw me coming home late from overtime, she'd ask if I had eaten.

Once, I casually mentioned missing my mom's homemade pasta, and the very next evening, she brought over a fresh batch of baked ziti.

She always told me I reminded her of her granddaughter and insisted I treat her like family.

Right now, she held a plate of freshly baked rolls, wanting to share them with me.

"Do you have company over, dear?" Mrs. Gable noticed an extra pair of sneakers by the shoe rack and turned to fetch more bread.

"No, please don't trouble yourself, Mrs. Gable," I stopped her gently. "We just finished dinner. These are more than enough."

"Is it a boyfriend?" She gave me a playful wink.

"No," I smiled sheepishly. "Just my cousin."

"That's lovely." Though slightly disappointed, her warm smile didn't fade. "It's good to have company."

After some brief small talk, I lowered my voice and urged her seriously: "Mrs. Gable, make sure you go to the grocery store tomorrow morning and stock up on as much non-perishable food and bottled water as you can."

Seeing her nod repeatedly like a cheerful little bird, I couldn't help but chuckle. "Aren't you going to ask why?"

"If my sweet Zoey tells me to do it, I'll just do it." She patted my hand fondly. "My favorite girl wouldn't steer an old lady wrong, would she?"

With a warm laugh, she turned and headed back to her apartment.

Watching her frail silhouette, I called out once more, unable to shake my worry: "There's a storm coming. A catastrophic one. Please remember to stock up!"

Unbeknownst to me, Faith had stepped out of the bathroom just in time to witness the conversation.

She stared at me with utter bewilderment, rolled her eyes in disgust, and strutted back into her bedroom.

A little later, just as I was getting ready for bed, muffled noise drifted through the wall.

I pressed my ear against the plaster and realized Faith was live-streaming.

After scrolling through local TikTok streams for a minute, I found her channel.

Her stream title was blatantly provocative:

My Cousin Is Spreading Disaster Rumors—Should I Expose Her for the Greater Good?