Apocalypse—Bonds of Abundance

Chapter 002: Quick Severance

Dora stared at Williams as though he had just uttered something obscene. Her lips parted only slightly, then pressed together again.

"Have you lost your mind?" she asked at last.

The question surely carried heat, but beneath it ran something colder–relief.

Williams saw it instantly–the way her shoulders loosened, and how her feigned outrage arrived a second too late.

"I'm very clear-headed, ma'am," he replied evenly. "Clearer than I've ever been."

Isaac Amante, who had been standing quietly near the window, finally turned. He was a tall man with prematurely silvering hair–one that had the habitual expression of someone accustomed to being respected without effort.

He studied Williams for a long moment, not with anger, but surprisingly with something closer to appraisal. As their eyes met, Williams almost shrugged his shoulders as he remembered how Isaac had watched Dora throw him out to die in the coming apocalypse.

"This isn't some kind of joke," Isaac said, eyes still fixed on Williams. "Termination of an adoption is not a tantrum you throw because you're hurt."

Williams held his gaze without flinching. "I'm not hurt. I'm done."

Just then, Frederick shifted slightly beside Vera, his arm tightening around her waist in a subtle, possessive motion. He didn't say a word. Had no reason to. His silence was controlled and almost gracious.

Dora exhaled sharply, then shook her head as though greatly disappointed.

"I raised you," she said. "Fed you. Gave you a roof over your head. And this is how you repay us? By disgracing the family?"

But her eyes betrayed her. There was not a single grief there. No loss, only anticipation.

"If you're serious, Williams," Isaac said slowly, "then this will be handled properly. We'd see the lawyers."

"That's exactly what I want, sir," Williams answered, meeting Isaac's eyes again as he buried his hands inside his trouser pockets.

None of them could understand the level of confidence he possessed that morning, because none of them knew he'd lived that moment before.

"Fine," Dora said, resolve snapping into place. "If that's what you want, we'll go to City Hall today. I won't have it said that the Amantes threw you out."

Threw me out? That's exactly what you did in the coming apocalypse, Williams thought.

Then he inclined his head slightly. "Of course."

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City Hall smelled of disinfectant and old paper.

The staff member at the counter–a beautiful dark skinned woman in her early forties with neat braids and tired eyes–looked up as the Amantes approached. Her gaze flicked from Isaac's finely tailored coat to Dora's jewelry, then finally to Williams.

Recognition dawned, and she stood up.

"Mr. Amante," she said politely. "Good to see you. How can I help you?"

"We're here to terminate an adoption," Dora replied in place of her husband, glancing at Williams. "At the request of Williams our...son."

The woman's eyebrows rose before she could stop the reaction.

"Is this voluntary?" she asked, turning to Williams.

"Yes," he said calmly.

She studied him more closely now. He didn't look angry or impulsive, and it unsettled her more than anything.

"And may I ask why?" she said gently. "I'm sorry, but this is an unusual request. The Amantes here are well-regarded."

Williams didn't hesitate. "My girlfriend is now in a relationship with my younger brother–"

"Says a lad who claims he isn't throwing a tantrum," Isaac cut in, his voice lowered. He scoffed afterwards.

Williams totally ignored him, his eyes still fixed on the staff member. "I don't see a reason to maintain ties that no longer exist."

The woman's expression softened despite herself. She nodded just once, sympathy flickering across her face before professionalism reclaimed it.

"I see," she said quietly. "Very well then. Please take a seat as I prepare the documents."

The process was thorough. Signatures were placed, and dates confirmed.

When it was done, the clerk stamped the final page and slid it across the desk.

"Effective immediately," she said. Then her eyes turned to Williams. "The adoption has been legally terminated. You are no longer a member of the Amante family."

"Good riddance," Dora said in a whisper as she rose immediately. She smoothed her coat and though eager to be gone. Isaac followed, already reaching for his phone.

Williams stood last.

As they reached the entrance, Dora paused, turning back to Williams with a measured expression of benevolence.

"I'll give you some money," she said in a proud tone. "It'll be enough to get by for a short while."

"Don't waste nothing on the ungrateful lad," Isaac said immediately, turning to face Williams.

"There's no need," Williams said, smiling faintly. "I'll have plenty of that soon."

For just a split second, Dora's composure cracked. Then she laughed softly, her voice sharp with disdain.

"Indeed, you have lost your mind," she said, turning away from Williams. "You'd barely survive a morning without the Amantes."

Without another word, she and her husband walked away.

Williams watched them go, the smile on his face lingering. It wasn't that of triumph, but of certainty.

He'd survive without the Amantes. But would they survive without him?

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The lottery kiosk glowed beneath fluorescent lights. It was wedged between a convenience store and a closer café. The attendant barely glanced at him as he requested the tickets.

He remembered the numbers easily. He couldn't be wrong about it.

The Mega Ball would be announced in twelve hours, and guess who'd bought all the winning numbers?

As soon as he was done, he stepped back into the street, the ticket folded carefully into his pocket. Snow dusted the sidewalks. The cold bit, but it was nothing compared to what was coming, and he was going to be ready for it more than the world would ever be.