Chapter 158: My Space
They left the high-security airfield hangar and drove to a quiet, high-end private dining club owned by the Reed Group.
It was a secluded establishment where the wealthy could conduct business in absolute privacy.
April, of course, was not one to ever underappreciate a good meal. That overrode her concern for everything else.
As soon as the beautifully plated dishes were served, her focus narrowed on the exceptionally prepared food, her expression softening in quiet satisfaction as she took her first bite.
Xavier watched her, his own meal untouched for the moment as he waited for her to explain the sudden culinary project.
"So," he began, leaning forward slightly. "A global cooking competition. I must admit, Miss April, this is the most unexpected strategy you have introduced so far. Why a cooking competition?"
April swallowed her food and set her cutlery down. She looked at him with an unblinking, calm gaze. She had already thought of how to explain it to him in a way that would make absolute sense.
"Xavier, in the past, you have seen me bring out my fortune telling orb, resources, and sometimes my phone from seemingly nowhere, and you have seen them disappear without a trace. Correct?"
Xavier’s expression turned instantly serious, his dark eyes locking onto hers. He had spent days wondering about this very anomaly, but he had never dared to push her for an explanation, fearing he would overstep. "Yes. I have observed it. I assumed it was a form of spatial manipulation, something similar to your fortune telling skill, though I couldn’t comprehend the mechanics."
"It is sort of like a hidden inventory," April explained simply, keeping the details practical. "Think of it as a pocket of space where I can store whatever I want. And inside this inventory, time does not exist. Things do not fade, they do not age, and they do not decay."
Xavier’s hand subtly tightened around his water glass as the sheer, staggering implications of her words sank in.
"If I put a freshly cooked, steaming dish inside that space, it will remain exactly the same," April continued. "When I pull it out months, or even years later, it will still be hot, fresh, and perfect." She leaned over just a bit. "Refrigerators and conventional preservation methods cannot retain the exact taste and texture of dishes over a long period. But my inventory can."
She leaned back slightly. "Once the apocalypse begins, the supply chains will collapse. The world-renowned chefs will either be fighting for their lives or dead. If I am in my fortress months from now and I suddenly crave sushi, fresh lobsters, or Michelin-star beef, I will not be able to get them. Therefore, I need this cooking competition to amass a massive, diverse stockpile of freshly cooked, premium meals."
Xavier stared at her, his mind running through the logistics. Slowly, he placed a hand over his mouth, letting out a low, deeply impressed breath.
"A brilliant strategy," he murmured, his eyes shining with genuine admiration. "With the kind of unique capability you possess, only you could pull off a plan like this. A refrigerator won’t retain the taste if it’s kept in there for too long, but in your space, it’s permanently frozen in its perfect state."
He lowered his hand, a sharp, decisive look returning to his face. "I will begin drafting the invitations and contacting the primary media outlets. I will also coordinate with Alexander Greels so we can align our families’ influences and iron out the sponsorship plans."
"And Nat," April added.
Xavier’s jaw tightened slightly, and he let out a very quiet, low growl under his breath. "Yes... and Nat Collins."
He cleared his throat, pushing the minor spike of jealousy aside as a practical question crossed his mind. He paused, looking at her thoughtfully. "But Miss April, if the goal is high-quality food, wouldn’t it be more efficient to simply hire a single, highly versatile chef to live with you at the fortress?"
April shook her head without a second thought. "I don’t plan on living with anyone. Once the collapse happens, it will be just me, my pets, and my fortress."
Xavier quieted for a second, his dark eyes searching her face. "And what if you need to change a tire on your Jeep after driving it around your compound? What if you need to change the oil, or perform heavy maintenance that requires significant physical labor?"
April paused.
Her hand hovered over her fork. She had to admit, she hadn’t fully calculated that specific variable. In both of her lives, she had only really learned how to clean and survive.
She didn’t know the first thing about complex mechanical maintenance. But at the same time, she was fiercely stubborn about her isolation; she had absolutely no desire to crowd her secure space with people who could potentially turn on her and betray her for any reason whatsoever.
"Then I will simply stop driving the Jeep," April said flatly, lifting her chin. "And I will stop using whatever else breaks down. Life doesn’t have to be so complicated."
"Or..." Xavier said, his voice dropping into a soft, intensely earnest register. He leaned over the table, his eyes locking onto hers with unwavering seriousness. "You could reach out to me through a walkie-talkie, and I will fly over immediately to fix it for you."
April looked at him. His face held no trace of teasing or corporate calculatedness. He was completely, entirely serious. The head of the multi-billion-dollar Reed Group was offering to act as her personal, on-call mechanic in a ruined world.
Slowly, April interlocked her fingers, resting her chin on them as her lips subtly curled into a rare, quiet grin.
"Well, Xavier," she murmured, her eyes holding his. "Until that time comes."
It wasn’t a definitive yes, and it wasn’t a flat no. But all things considered, she wasn’t against the idea of having him around in her future—and that tiny, open thread was more than enough to ignite a bright, resilient spark of hope in Xavier’s chest.
Once they finished their meal, they returned to the private hangar. The atmosphere between them had completely shifted; the polite, distant walls had crumbled, replaced by a shared, quiet focus.
Xavier immediately walked over to the helicopter. He took off his tailored suit coat and draped it neatly over a nearby chair. He pulled his silk tie loose, unbuttoning his top collar before rolling up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, revealing his lean, toned forearms.
April watched his efficient, business-like transformation with an amused glint in her eyes.
"Oh," she said, her voice carrying a light, rare playfulness. "We’re getting serious now, are we?"
"Very serious, Miss April," Xavier replied, a confident, relaxed smile touching his lips as he turned to look at her. "No more dry runs. We are turning on the auxiliary power units today."
"Excellent." April reached back and slid her black blazer off her shoulders, leaving herself in just her simple, sleeveless white dress. She tossed the blazer onto the chair as well and stepped up to the helicopter. "Let’s get down to it, Xavier."