With the water pipes completely frozen, the entire apartment complex was facing a serious crisis—no running water.
If you wanted to drink, your only option was to brave the -100°F blizzard and collect snow from the ground floor.
Even then, melting it was another nightmare.
At indoor temperatures of -60°F, the snow turned into solid blocks, hard as concrete.
Some people, desperate with thirst, actually tried licking ice—only to have their tongues freeze stuck, resulting in horrifying injuries.
Over the past few days, Ethan Cross had noticed through his surveillance feeds that Tony Chen's goons had been lurking near his floor, watching.
Clearly, they were hoping Ethan would eventually have to leave to get water, so they could ambush him.
But day after day, they saw nothing.
They simply couldn't imagine how stocked Ethan's place really was.
If he wanted, he could stay inside for the rest of his life—plenty of food, water, fuel, and warmth. Not a single need unmet.
"Damn… Tony Chen is still alive?" Ethan muttered to himself.
That guy took a crossbow bolt to the leg. With no treatment, infection was inevitable. And in this cold? Any wound was practically a death sentence.
"I guess the virus can't survive these temps, huh?" Ethan chuckled. He wasn't a doctor, so the details didn't matter much. Whether Tony lived or died wouldn't change a thing for him.
It was just a matter of time.
The next morning, Ethan woke up groggily and grabbed his phone.
Checking the neighborhood group chats and browsing forums had become one of his few forms of entertainment.
In a world drowning in frost and despair, watching others suffer while he enjoyed his private paradise brought an odd, guiltless satisfaction.
Compared to those who were dying of starvation or freezing to death, Ethan knew he was beyond lucky.
He opened his messages—and sure enough, there it was.
Claire Russell and Natalie Lin had both messaged him.
Claire's messages were long, dripping with faux sincerity:
"Ethan, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking straight yesterday. I was cold, scared, and I took it out on you."
"You were right. I've been naïve… I didn't see who truly cared about me."
"I realize now—you've always been the one. I've always liked you, even if I didn't admit it before."
"Please forgive me. Let's just live together. You're alone, I'm alone—there's no reason for us to keep suffering apart."
"Let me come over and keep you company. We can survive this thing together."
Ethan smirked.
So the ice queen finally cracked.
The high-and-mighty Claire, who used to treat him like a dog, was now practically begging to be let into his home.
He typed a short reply:
"Sure, rotten apples can quench thirst, but I'm not that thirsty yet."
He chuckled to himself. As a man of culture, he had… alternatives.
High-end, fully realistic gear from Japan. The kind of stuff you only find in corporate warehouses. He hadn't asked for it—but when raiding the Walmart distribution center, he wasn't going to leave anything useful behind.
Next, he checked Natalie's messages.
She'd gone full thirst trap mode—sending several racy selfies, each more desperate than the last.
Compared to Claire, Natalie was less attractive and knew it. So she went for shock and seduction instead.
Ethan replied instantly:
"Zero emotional response. Honestly, it's kind of funny."
He left it at that.
He knew exactly what these women were after. They'd seen how well he was living—warm, full meals, comfort—and now they were willing to throw away their pride, do anything, just to get a slice of it.
But so what?
His house was a fortress, built with one purpose: survival. No matter how desperate they got, they weren't getting in.
Sure enough, the moment they saw Ethan wasn't falling for their bait, both Claire and Natalie flew into a rage.
They started hurling insults at him via text.
Claire had sent dozens of angry voice messages. Natalie, after putting everything on the table, had her ego crushed in a single sentence. She was fuming.
The humiliation was unbearable.
Especially for Natalie—she'd already lowered herself as far as she could go. She'd shown everything. And Ethan had said she made him laugh.
Humiliating.
She was still a woman, after all. Didn't she deserve basic dignity?
Claire gritted her teeth, face pale from rage and desperation.
The endless cold, the gnawing hunger—it was hell.
Ethan's apartment was their last hope. Their final dream.
Claire's expression twisted with madness.
"If I can't get in… I'll force my way in."
"I'm done starving. Done freezing. If I have to kill Ethan to get in, so be it."
She was ready to do anything.
But she was just one woman. She couldn't force her way in alone.
Then she looked toward the next apartment over.
Her old "roommate."
They'd already burned their bridges. The so-called plastic sisterhood had been reduced to nothing.
But now, she needed help.
Claire went next door and knocked.
Natalie opened the door.
Claire's voice was cold, venomous.
"That son of a bitch, Ethan. He's sitting in there all cozy while we freeze to death. You really think he deserves that house?"
"We can't just sit here and die. We need to take it from him."
Natalie's eyes lit up green with envy.
Begging hadn't worked.
There was only one option left: lie, cheat… or steal.
"You're right. Let's take that bastard down."
"He doesn't deserve that house. Let him freeze. Let the stray dogs rip him apart."
"We're the ones who should be living in comfort!"