By early afternoon, Jules was standing inside the first warehouse, watching her father question the property representative about the security system.
The building was larger than she remembered. Sunlight streamed through the narrow windows near the ceiling, illuminating the dust drifting above the concrete floor. A faint smell of fresh paint lingered near the office, although the rest of the warehouse smelled of cardboard and machinery. Every sound seemed to travel twice as far as it should, from the squeak of Daric's sneakers to the metallic rattle of a loading door being raised at the opposite end of the building.
Jules had rented the warehouse after reviewing photographs, floor plans, and a virtual tour. At the time, she'd been more concerned with securing enough storage space than inspecting every detail. Now, watching her father examine the hinges on a loading door, she wondered whether she'd been a little too quick to sign the agreement.
"Are the exterior cameras connected to a separate power supply?" Kaelen asked.
The representative, a man named Mr. Henson, glanced at the security camera mounted above the entrance. "I'd have to confirm that with our maintenance department."
"Please do. I'd also like to know whether the recordings are stored locally or through a cloud service."
"I can send you the specifications."
"And the loading doors?"
"Serviced last quarter."
"Do you have the inspection records?"
"Of course."
Jorin leaned toward Jules while their father continued questioning the increasingly uncomfortable representative.
"He's going to ask for the building's birth certificate next."
Jules covered her smile with her hand. "At least someone's being thorough."
"Thorough? He's been here twenty minutes, and I don't think he's looked at the actual storage space yet."
"He's looking at everything that could go wrong with it."
"Exactly. The building's probably regretting being built."
A few feet away, Daric was studying the ceiling. "Do you think we could stack supplies all the way up there?"
Jules followed his gaze. The warehouse had enough vertical space for several levels of industrial shelving, but she hadn't ordered the racks yet.
"Depends on the shelving," she answered.
"And the weight limits," Jorin added.
"And whether either of you intends to climb it," Kaelen called from across the room.
Daric turned. "We're not children."
"You climbed onto the garage roof last month."
"That was different."
"You were retrieving a basketball."
"It was an important basketball."
Mr. Henson looked between them, apparently unsure whether he was expected to contribute. Kaelen merely shook his head and returned to the inspection.
Jules wandered toward the rear of the warehouse while her brothers debated whether Daric's basketball had been worth the trouble. A small office occupied one corner, with a restroom beside it and a locked utility room farther down the wall. The concrete floor appeared solid, and the reinforced masonry walls were in better condition than she'd expected. There was plenty of room for deliveries, storage racks, and equipment.
She could already picture the arrangement: dry goods along one wall, equipment and spare parts toward the back, and a designated area near the loading doors for checking incoming shipments. With proper shelving, the building could hold far more than she'd originally calculated.
It would make an excellent distribution point.
She pressed her palm against the cool wall and examined a narrow crack near the corner. It looked superficial, but she made a note to ask about it. After seeing what earthquakes could do to supposedly sturdy buildings, she had no intention of trusting appearances.
"Jules?"
Her father stood in the office doorway, holding a sheet of paper.
"Come here a moment."
She joined him, slipping her phone into her pocket.
"I'm arranging independent inspections of both warehouses," he said. "Electrical, structural, fire safety, and security. I also want additional cameras installed before the first major deliveries arrive."
"Okay."
"We'll need to restrict access to authorized personnel and establish a proper inventory system."
"Okay."
Kaelen lowered the paper and looked at her over the top of his glasses. "Are you listening?"
"Yes."
"Then stop saying okay as though you're trying to get rid of me."
Jules laughed. "Sorry. I'm listening."
"Good." He glanced around the warehouse. "It's a good location."
"Really?"
"Close enough to the major roads, reasonable loading access, and enough space to accommodate the shipments you've ordered. I can see why you chose it."
Jules smiled. She'd spent hours comparing properties, and hearing him acknowledge that she'd made a reasonable decision was unexpectedly satisfying.
"However," he continued, "the security is inadequate, the loading schedule is disorganized, and you haven't arranged enough labor to handle the deliveries."
Her smile faded. "Oh."
"Which is why we're fixing those things."
He handed her the inspection sheet and pointed toward a section he'd marked.
"Your brothers can help coordinate inventory. I'll hire a logistics crew for the larger shipments, and we'll establish delivery windows so trucks aren't arriving at random hours."
"You're hiring people?"
"Yes, Jules."
"But they'll see everything we're buying."
"People generally see things when they're paid to unload them."
"Dad."
"We'll use ordinary commercial explanations. Storage expansion, equipment purchases, inventory management. None of that requires us to explain your prediction to anyone."
Jules considered that. She'd been so focused on keeping their preparations secret that she'd planned to handle most deliveries herself, moving supplies into her dimension whenever she could do so without being seen. It had seemed manageable when the orders were only numbers on a screen. Standing inside the warehouse, she was beginning to appreciate how much work she'd created.
"What if they start asking questions?"
"Then they can ask. We don't have to answer every question."
He folded the inspection sheet and tucked it beneath his arm.
"Jules, secrecy doesn't mean doing everything alone."
She looked toward her brothers, who had moved on from discussing basketballs to arguing about whether a forklift would be difficult to operate.
"I was going to organize everything," she said.
"I know."
"I had a plan."
"I know that too."
"It wasn't a bad plan."
"No," Kaelen agreed. "It wasn't. But it was a plan designed around one exhausted eighteen-year-old doing the work of twenty people."
Jules opened her mouth to object, then reconsidered. Between the warehouse rentals, supplier negotiations, food preparations, and endless lists, she hadn't slept properly in days. She'd also been putting off several tasks simply because she couldn't decide which needed her attention first.
Her father raised an eyebrow. "Would you like to argue with that?"
"Maybe later."
"Good. Schedule it for after lunch."
She laughed, and he gave her a small smile before calling the boys over to discuss the inventory system.
For the next half hour, Kaelen walked them through the warehouse, explaining where deliveries would be received, how they should check invoices against actual shipments, and why every item needed a recorded location.
Daric volunteered to handle equipment.
Jorin immediately claimed responsibility for the inventory spreadsheet.
"You just want to sit behind a computer," Daric accused.
"And you just want to drive a forklift."
"There's nothing wrong with wanting to drive a forklift."
"You don't know how."
"I can learn."
"You're sixteen," Kaelen reminded him. "You're not operating industrial machinery without the appropriate training and authorization."
Daric looked disappointed.
Jules wasn't entirely convinced he wouldn't try to convince someone otherwise.
By the time they finished, she had several new tasks on her phone, two inspection appointments to confirm, and a better understanding of how the warehouse would operate.
It was still a great deal of work, but at least she wasn't the only one responsible for it.
They stopped for lunch on the way home.
Daric wanted burgers, Jorin wanted chicken, and Kaelen wanted somewhere he could sit down without listening to another twenty-minute debate. They eventually settled on a restaurant that served both, although Daric insisted he'd won because burgers were listed first on the menu.
Jules ordered grilled chicken with rice and vegetables. She'd spent much of the morning thinking about food inventories, but now that she had a plate in front of her, she wasn't particularly hungry.
Her phone lay beside her glass of water.
She'd checked it twice since they sat down.
There was still no update about Floor 22.
Kaelen noticed her reaching for it again.
"Stop."
Jules looked up. "What?"
"Checking your phone."
"I'm not."
He glanced at the screen. "Then you're admiring your lock screen."
Daric leaned across the table. "Maybe she has a boyfriend."
Jules nearly dropped her fork. "What?"
Jorin grinned. "That would explain the secretive behavior."
"I don't have a boyfriend."
"That's exactly what someone with a secret boyfriend would say," Daric replied.
"That's exactly what someone without a boyfriend would say."
"Suspicious."
Jules looked toward her father. "Dad, tell them to stop."
Kaelen continued cutting his food. "Boys, stop."
They obeyed for approximately three seconds.
Then Daric leaned toward Jorin and whispered, loudly enough for everyone to hear, "Secret boyfriend."
Jules threw a napkin at him.
Kaelen didn't bother looking up. "If I have to separate you three in a restaurant, nobody is driving home."
Jorin frowned. "That's not fair."
"Neither is making me listen to this conversation."
Daric retrieved the napkin from his lap, still grinning.
Jules returned to her meal. She managed several bites before her phone vibrated against the table.
An email notification appeared.
Pinnacle Tower — Sales Office
She picked up the phone immediately.
The subject line read: Floor 22 — Contract Status Update.
Jules opened the message and read it twice.
The existing purchase agreement remained active. The developer's legal team was still reviewing the buyer's financing documentation, and no decision had been made regarding the release of the property. Interested parties would be contacted when additional information became available.
She set the phone beside her plate.
"What is it?" Kaelen asked.
"An update from Pinnacle Tower."
He put down his fork. "And?"
"Nothing's changed. The contract is still active."
"May I see?"
Jules handed him the phone. He read the email carefully while she pushed a piece of chicken around her plate.
"So we still can't buy it," she said.
"Not while the existing agreement remains in effect."
"And we don't know when they'll make a decision."
"No."
Kaelen handed the phone back.
"I spoke with my attorney this morning. He's reviewing the situation."
Jules looked up. "You did?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I was waiting until I had something useful to tell you."
"What can he do?"
"Determine whether the developer will accept a formal backup offer, review any conditions attached to the existing agreement, and make sure we don't commit money to a property we can't legally purchase."
Jules glanced at the email again. She'd hoped the financing problems surrounding Cortell Holdings would force the developer to release the penthouse. Instead, the contract seemed determined to remain in place.
"What if someone else buys it?"
"Then we evaluate our options."
"We need that floor."
"I understand."
"No, Dad, I mean we really need it."
Kaelen leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.
"Jules, I know it's important to you. I'm treating it as important. But worrying about the same problem every five minutes won't make the other buyer disappear."
She didn't answer.
"We're pursuing it properly," he continued. "My attorney will handle the legal side, and I'll speak with the developer when there's something to discuss. Until then, we have other work that needs our attention."
Jules looked at the message one last time before locking her phone.
"Okay."
Kaelen studied her briefly, then returned to his lunch.
A moment later, Daric slid a french fry onto her plate.
She stared at it. "What's this?"
"A sympathy fry."
Jorin added another.
"Two sympathy fries."
Jules laughed. "Thank you. Very generous."
"Don't mention it," Daric said solemnly.
"Are you going to give me the rest?"
"Let's not get carried away."
She stole another fry from his plate anyway.
That evening, Jules sat at her bedroom desk with her notebook open beside her laptop. She had spent nearly an hour updating the warehouse inventory, confirming supplier information, and adding the inspection appointments to the family schedule.
The list of unfinished tasks had grown considerably since morning.
She crossed out the warehouse visit and moved to the next item, only to find herself looking at the notes she'd made about Pinnacle Tower.
Floor 22 — Awaiting Contract Release.
She had underlined it twice.
The Apex Core was still in her possession, but that didn't solve the problem of where to deploy it. The System had identified the requirements for establishing the base; it hadn't provided a way to bypass the existing purchase agreement.
Jules closed her laptop.
She'd spent enough time staring at the same information.
After checking that her bedroom door was closed, she entered her dimension.
The familiar landscape appeared around her: the cabin, the grassy ground, and the stream winding through the property. The air was pleasantly cool, carrying the smell of damp earth and growing vegetation. Water moved over the stones with a steady, quiet sound.
Jules walked toward the stream and crouched beside it.
She'd already collected several containers of its water for cooking, but she filled another while she was there. The water had become part of her daily routine. She used it in rice, soups, sauces, and whatever else she prepared for the family, careful to keep the source to herself.
Nearby, the land she'd begun preparing for cultivation looked undisturbed. She checked the soil, examined the supplies she'd brought in earlier, and made a mental note to spend more time organizing the cabin.
Her dimensional storage held far more than the warehouse ever could, but she still needed an accurate record of what she'd collected. Unlimited space didn't make it any easier to remember whether she'd purchased enough replacement filters or where she'd put the extra batteries.
She carried the filled container toward the cabin.
Her father's words from the warehouse returned to her.
Secrecy doesn't mean doing everything alone.
Jules set the water on the kitchen counter.
She had become accustomed to making decisions quickly, often without consulting anyone. In her previous lives, hesitation had sometimes been more dangerous than making the wrong choice. She'd learned to move when an opportunity appeared and deal with the consequences afterward.
That habit had followed her home.
It was why she'd rented warehouses without discussing them, placed enormous orders using her father's card, and expected to manage the deliveries herself. She'd been so occupied with securing supplies that she hadn't considered how her family might feel about being excluded from the decisions.
Kaelen had every reason to be angry.
She still thought some of her purchases had been necessary, but she could admit that she'd handled them badly.
Jules opened one of the cabin cupboards and checked the food containers she'd stored there earlier. The portions she'd prepared were neatly labeled, with the dates and contents written across the lids.
Tomorrow, she needed to cook another batch.
She'd planned several large meals that could be prepared in stages, including chicken stew, seasoned rice, roasted vegetables, and a few soups. She wanted to experiment with different portion sizes so the food could be distributed without wasting anything.
She also needed to finish reviewing the warehouse orders with her father, send Selina the communications supply list, and make sure Daric and Jorin understood the inventory system.
There was no shortage of work.
Jules returned the containers to their places and stepped outside.
She sat beside the stream for a while, watching the water move around a cluster of stones. The quiet helped her organize her thoughts without another notification or someone calling her from downstairs.
She'd survived long enough to know that no amount of planning could eliminate every risk. But she'd also seen what happened when people refused to cooperate, when leaders kept information to themselves, and when exhausted survivors made decisions nobody else understood.
Her father wasn't trying to take control away from her.
He was trying to keep her from wearing herself out before anything had even happened.
Jules brushed the grass from her pants and stood.
She still had one conversation she'd been avoiding.
Her mother.
During the family meeting, Serina had asked questions about injuries, infections, hospitals, and medical treatment. Jules had answered almost all of them with some variation of I don't know, even when she knew far more than she wanted to admit.
She could understand why her mother had been frustrated.
Serina was a physician. If the family was going to prepare for a medical emergency, she needed more than vague warnings and a warehouse full of supplies.
Jules looked toward the cabin, considering how much she could tell her without explaining her previous lives.
There were things she could describe accurately. The dangers of untreated wounds, contaminated water, overcrowded hospitals, and the confusion surrounding the infected. She could give her mother useful information without revealing every experience behind it.
That would have to be enough to start the conversation.
When Jules returned to her bedroom, her phone was ringing.
Mom.
She answered before the call went to voicemail.
"Hi, Mom."
"Hi, sweetheart. Are you busy?"
"Not really. What's up?"
"I'm on my way home. I was thinking we could talk tonight, if you're up to it."
Jules sat on the edge of her bed. "About the other morning?"
"Yes. Some of the medical questions I asked."
She glanced at her notebook.
Serina continued, "I'm not calling to interrogate you, Jules. I just want to understand what we're preparing for so I can figure out what supplies and equipment we actually need."
Jules rubbed her forehead. She could hear traffic in the background and the faint clicking of her mother's turn signal.
"I know I wasn't very helpful."
"No, you weren't," Serina admitted. "But I don't think arguing about it again will get us anywhere."
Jules smiled slightly. That sounded like her mother.
"I made some notes," she said.
"Good. I've been making a list myself."
"Of course you have."
"I'm a doctor, sweetheart. Lists are practically part of the job."
Jules laughed.
"So," Serina continued, "would you like to talk when I get home?"
"Yeah. We can talk."
"Are you sure? We can wait until tomorrow if you're exhausted."
"No, tonight's fine."
"Good. I'll see you soon."
"Drive safely."
"I will. Love you."
"Love you too."
The call ended.
Jules placed her phone on the desk and opened her notebook to a blank page. She wrote MEDICAL — WHAT I REMEMBER across the top, then sat considering where to begin.
The earthquake would be the obvious starting point, but her mother already knew about the disaster itself. What she needed were the details that could influence medical preparations: what happened to people exposed to the gas, how the infected behaved, and which illnesses became dangerous when clean water and proper treatment were no longer available.
Jules began making notes, leaving space between the topics for questions Serina might ask.
She wrote about unconsciousness following exposure, ordinary illnesses being mistaken for infection, and the difficulties hospitals faced once power and supplies became unreliable.
Her pen slowed when she reached the section about the infected.
She knew enough to fill several pages. The difficulty would be explaining it without making her mother wonder why an eighteen-year-old could describe such things with the certainty of someone who'd witnessed them.
Downstairs, Tavian shouted something about his missing charger. Daric answered, and Amira burst into laughter. A moment later, Kaelen told them to lower their voices.
Jules listened to the argument through the floorboards, then returned to her notes.
Her mother would be home soon.
She wanted to have something useful to tell her.