The next five days passed in a blur of activity. Ethan threw himself into preparations with single-minded focus, barely sleeping, living on coffee and takeout food while he orchestrated the transformation of his newly acquired property.
The bunker, as he'd started thinking of it, was even better than he'd hoped. The inspection he'd waived for the purchase, he conducted himself afterward, and found that the Cold War era construction was solid. Reinforced concrete walls two feet thick, a filtration system that needed updating but was still functional, and multiple chambers that could be repurposed for his needs.
He hired three separate construction crews, telling each one they were working on different sections of a private doomsday prepper retreat. It wasn't far from the truth. The crews never overlapped, never saw what the others were doing, and were paid enough to not ask questions.
The first crew focused on the power systems. Ethan had them install a hybrid setup, solar panels on the surface connected to massive battery banks underground, backed up by three industrial generators and enough fuel to run them for months. He also had them bury the power lines deep, protecting them from surface damage.
The second crew worked on the water and air systems. They upgraded the well, installed modern filtration, and created a closed loop system that could recycle and purify water indefinitely. The ventilation was overhauled completely, with new filters, heating elements, and enough spare parts to maintain it for years.
The third crew handled the living spaces. Ethan had them divide the bunker into functional areas: sleeping quarters, a kitchen and food storage, a medical bay, a communications center, and a workshop. Everything was built to be self-sufficient and maintainable.
While the construction happened, Ethan focused on supplies. He rented three storage units under different names and began filling them systematically. Non-perishable food by the pallet load, medical supplies, tools, weapons, ammunition, clothing, books, entertainment, everything he could think of that would be impossible to obtain once the freeze hit.
He bought a dozen high-end laptops and external hard drives, downloading every piece of useful information he could find. Technical manuals, medical textbooks, survival guides, entertainment media, anything that might be valuable when the internet went down permanently.
The spending was astronomical. In less than a week, Ethan burned through nearly forty million dollars. But he didn't hesitate. Money would be worthless soon. Supplies and security were the only currencies that would matter.
On the sixth day, while inspecting the progress at the bunker, Ethan received a call from an unknown number. He almost didn't answer, but curiosity got the better of him.
"Hello?"
"Ethan? It's Robert."
Ethan's hand tightened on the phone. He'd blocked Margaret's number, but apparently Robert had tried from a different line. "What do you want?"
"I, we need to talk. Margaret told me what happened, about the adoption termination. I think we should meet and discuss this properly. You're family, Ethan. We shouldn't let a misunderstanding ruin that."
Family. The word tasted like ashes in Ethan's mouth. "We're not family anymore. That's what the paperwork you signed says. Or did you forget already?"
"Don't be like this," Robert's voice took on a pleading tone that Ethan had never heard before. "We raised you. We gave you everything. Surely that counts for something."
"You gave me nothing I didn't earn ten times over," Ethan replied coldly. "And now you want something. What is it, Robert? Money? Did Dylan run up his credit cards again? Or did the company hit some financial trouble?"
The silence on the other end told Ethan everything he needed to know. He almost laughed. Of course. They'd heard somehow that he'd come into money, probably through Marcus Chen's agency, word traveled fast in business circles, and now they wanted their cut.
"We heard you bought some property," Robert said carefully. "Expensive property. That's a big investment for someone who works at a bookstore."
"Not your concern anymore."
"Ethan, please. Whatever money you've come into, you need to be smart about it. Let us help you. We have experience with investments, with managing wealth. We can,"
"Steal it from me like you stole everything else?" Ethan finished. "No thanks. I'm managing fine on my own."
"You're being childish," Robert's tone shifted, becoming harder. "You can't possibly know what you're doing with that kind of money. You'll waste it, lose it, and then where will you be? At least let us guide you."
Ethan walked through the bunker as he talked, inspecting the newly installed air filtration system. "I know exactly what I'm doing. And I know exactly what you're doing too. The answer is no. Don't call again."
He hung up before Robert could respond and immediately blocked that number as well.
His phone buzzed moments later with a text from Dylan, sent from yet another number Ethan didn't recognize. "You won the lottery, didn't you? That's the only way you could afford that bunker. You owe us, Ethan. We raised you. We deserve a share."
Ethan stared at the message, feeling a cold satisfaction settle in his chest. They knew. They knew he had money, and it was eating them alive. The family that had thrown him away now wanted to claim ownership of his success.
He typed a response: "You deserve exactly what you gave me. Nothing. Enjoy your perfect life with your perfect son while it lasts."
Then he blocked Dylan's new number too.
Over the next week, they tried everything. Margaret called from the landline. Jessica sent him messages on social media begging him to help Dylan who was apparently depressed. Even distant relatives Ethan barely remembered suddenly reached out, all of them with the same underlying message: share the wealth.
Ethan ignored them all.
By day fourteen, two days before the apocalypse, the bunker was complete. Ethan stood in the main chamber, surrounded by shelves stocked with supplies, powered by systems that would run for years, protected by walls that could withstand almost anything. He'd spent nearly sixty million dollars, but he'd built himself a fortress.
He'd also quietly destroyed the Chen family's business. Anonymous tips to regulators about safety violations, leaked emails suggesting financial instability, strategic rumors planted with key investors. The company's stock had plummeted. Robert was scrambling to save it, burning through their savings, taking out loans.
When the freeze hit, they'd have nothing left.
Ethan felt no guilt. They'd thrown him out to die in the cold. Now he was simply returning the favor.
On day fifteen, Ethan made his final preparations. He moved the last of his supplies to the bunker, sealed the surface entrance, and activated all the systems. Everything was ready.
That night, he slept in his new underground home, warm and secure, while above ground the temperature began its inexplicable drop. By morning, it would be ten degrees colder than normal. By the next day, twenty degrees colder.
And by the day after that, the world as everyone knew it would be over.
Ethan lay in his bed, staring at the concrete ceiling, and thought about the Chen family huddled in their expensive house with its inadequate heating and dwindling supplies. He thought about Dylan and Jessica, their perfect relationship about to be tested by true hardship. He thought about Margaret and Robert, finally facing consequences they couldn't buy their way out of.
And he smiled.