Yes, but if I leave, then what? Find supplies on my own? That's impossible. Owen's house is packed with food. By myself, I wouldn't even gather a fraction of that. The heat outside was unbearable, and without food or water, I wouldn't last long. Worse, I'd be an easy target for the thugs roaming the streets. If I'm lucky, maybe I'd find another man to rely on. But would that really be any different from now? Probably not. And before I had the chance, I'd either collapse from the heat or fall victim to someone else. The more Elena thought about it, the worse she felt. Her expression turned unsightly. She didn't want to leave, but she couldn't bring herself to say that. Standing there with her half-packed suitcase, she was stuck in the middle, looking lost and torn. Owen observed her reaction from the corner of his eye. When he saw her hesitate, he smiled with satisfaction. Walking over, he pulled the suitcase out of her hands and sat her down on the bed. His voice softened as he gave her an easy way out. "Come on, don't be stubborn. Stick with me and you'll always have food to eat. I didn't mean to upset you, but supplies are running out fast—we can't just sit here and starve, can we?" He even added an apology. "Today was my fault. I shouldn't have kept things from you. From now on, I'll tell you everything ahead of time. You get to pick everything we own, alright?" He knocked her down, then tossed her a bone. Elena knew she had no real choice. Pouting, she finally muttered, "Fine. But promise me one thing—don't bring so many men here at once." Owen knew she had given in. He immediately agreed, grinning as he soothed her. "Alright, alright. Whatever you say. You're the boss here." ... It was 2:02 p.m. Natalie stretched and sat up in bed, her body refreshed from the best sleep she'd had in days. She glanced outside—the sky was already pitch-dark. Her mood was bright. Over the past few days, she had raided machine factories, hauled in more than 90,000 gallons of fuel, and cleared out every jewelry store in the city of emeralds. Her storage space now reached a full 150 feet. Feeling relaxed, Natalie smirked.It was about time to finish what she had left undone. Tiffany must be getting impatient waiting on the other side. Just then, a sharp pain shot up her leg. Looking down, she saw Lucky clawing at her wildly. "Arf! Arf-arf-arf!" Natalie, what are you thinking about? You just woke up, and you're already smiling like that—it's kind of creepy! So scary! It feels like any second now you're about to let out some evil villain laugh—Kakakaka! "Lucky! Your nails are way too long—you're hurting my leg!" She scooped the dog into her arms and pinned it onto the couch. Time for a nail trim. Lucky wriggled and kicked in protest. Wait! That terrifying smile earlier—it was all part of her evil plan to cut my nails?! "Hold still!" Natalie flicked her head with a finger. Lucky instantly froze. She didn't move a muscle, letting her human do whatever she wanted with her paws. After clipping Lucky's nails, Natalie washed her hands, poured some dog food into the dog's bowl, and watched as Lucky ate happily. Then she fixed herself a hearty meal. Eat well, fill up; it was time to send Braxton to his grave. The day she sent Tiffany off should have been Braxton's last. He'd lived longer than expected. She wondered if those extra days had brought him more suffering. After finishing her meal at a calm pace, Natalie quickly suited up in her climate suit, strapped on her weapons, and headed out.Greenwood Complex, Unit 701. Braxton lay on the bed, barely clinging to life. To say he had suffered these past days was an understatement—it had been worse than death itself. Ever since the Great Heat began, he had walked for hours to escape the twisted Edric and make it back home, only to collapse with heat exhaustion. Every day, he had been dizzy, nauseous, and vomiting. The misery never let up. And as the temperatures kept climbing, his condition only got worse. The little water he had at home was long gone. At first, sweat poured down his face, but later his body stopped sweating altogether. Braxton knew this was a terrible sign. It meant his body was failing. Despite this, there was nothing he could do. He could feel the heat burning inside him, his temperature climbing higher and higher. There was no doubt—he had full-blown heat stroke. He thought about going outside to find help, maybe get some water, but his body refused to move. He couldn't even get out of bed. Anger flared in his fading thoughts; Baxton started blaming it all on Tiffany. He told her to stay here with him for a while, but she insisted on running back to watch Natalie's downfall. And now? He was stuck here, helpless, with no one to care for him. As he slipped in and out of consciousness, Braxton's mind filled with fragments of his life. Stealing chips from a classmate as a kid and getting beaten for it. Proudly earning his PhD and showing off in front of his relatives. The first moment he saw Natalie, he was stunned by her beauty.The thrill of learning she came from a rich family. The careful coincidences he planned to bump into her.