Bound To The Disabled Apocalyptic Tycoon

With a wet, sickening smack, Dax's face planted directly into the center of the cement tub.

Thick, gray sludge exploded outward. A heavy glob of wet cement splattered across Harley's expensive Jimmy Choo heels.

Dax thrashed wildly in the tub. His hands clawed at the slippery edges, his muffled, panicked screams bubbling up through the thick mud.

Harley shrieked, stumbling backward. She didn't reach out to help him; she just stared in horror at her ruined designer shoes.

Two construction workers dropped their tools and sprinted over. They grabbed Dax by the shoulders and hauled him out of the muck.

Dax was a monster made of gray sludge. Cement coated his hair, filled his nose, and plastered his eyes shut. He fell to his knees, coughing violently, spitting out gritty mouthfuls of mud.

"I'll kill her! I'll sue her!" Dax gagged, wiping blindly at his burning eyes.

Jessie reached into her pocket and pulled out a wet wipe. She slowly, methodically cleaned the fingers that had touched Dax's wrist.

She walked over to Harley. She stood tall, casting a shadow over the trembling fake heiress.

"Keep your dog on a leash," Jessie whispered, her voice dropping to a chilling register. "If he barks at me again, he won't be eating cement. He'll be eating dirt. Six feet under."

Harley's entire body went rigid. The raw, unfiltered murder in Jessie's eyes paralyzed her vocal cords. She could only nod, her face pale with genuine terror.

Jessie tossed the used wet wipe. It landed perfectly on top of Dax's cement-covered head.

She turned and walked to the backyard shed, retrieved the small wooden box containing the farming journals, and walked right out the front gates without looking back.

Jessie got back into the waiting cab. "Appalachian Mountains. Drive."

As the cab merged onto the highway, Jessie pulled out her phone. She dialed the number of a premier industrial contractor.

"I need twenty military-grade, heavy-duty shipping containers," Jessie ordered the moment the line connected. "Billed to the black card I'm providing."

The contractor paused. "Ma'am, that takes weeks to source-"

"I am paying triple your rush fee," Jessie cut him off. "I need them retrofitted with thermal insulation, anti-corrosion coating, and concealed ventilation systems. Delivered in three days."

"Yes, ma'am. Consider it done."

She hung up and immediately dialed a modular housing supplier, ordering dozens of rapid-assembly wooden cabin kits.

She stared out the window as the city skyline faded into rolling hills. Her Personal Biome was massive, but it was just raw, black earth. She needed the containers and cabins to build a structured, secure base inside her spatial dimension.

Hours later, the cab dropped her off at the rusted iron gates of the Appalachian estate.

Jessie unlocked the gate and walked through the overgrown weeds. The main stone house was old but built like a fortress. She stepped inside and saw that the dust had been cleared. Kenneth's men had already prepped the staging area.

Her phone buzzed. It was Arthur.

"Miss Rhodes, the first batch of supplies has arrived at a discreet warehouse five miles from your location."

Jessie's pulse quickened. "Send me the coordinates. And pull all your security personnel out of the perimeter. I want the site completely empty."

"Understood."

Jessie went to the master bedroom, changed into a set of black tactical clothes, and grabbed the keys to an old, beat-up pickup truck left in the garage.

The sun dipped below the horizon as Jessie drove the truck down the winding mountain road, heading straight for her first massive haul of survival gear.