Bella herself wasn't even sure how much money Charlie actually had, so she spoke very cautiously. "He's saved for so many years... he should have some savings, right?"
"Then make him buy a big house! Three bathrooms! And preferably a swimming pool!"
It wasn't even close to happening yet, but on the other end of the phone, Natasha was already excitedly planning how they would divide up the future rooms.
Bella coughed lightly. "I'm starting college this year. We don't need that many bathrooms..."
"Great, then they'll all be mine!"
The two of them went from bathrooms to shoe cabinets, wardrobes, a gym, a makeup room, and then the interior décor style—chatting more and more enthusiastically by the minute.
At first, Bella wasn't interested at all... but as the talk went on, her mood slowly lifted too.
Charlie really wasn't a bad guy. Finding him a wife was practically the least she could do after he'd taken such good care of her for over a month.
Natasha's mother, on the other hand, was gorgeous and very much in her prime—fiery, wild, hard to handle. Only someone like Charlie, with years of savings and patience, could keep up with her. If they had a little love child in the future, they'd have someone to rely on in their old age...
Once Bella went to college, she wouldn't see Charlie much anymore. Natasha's mother was also the kind of woman who couldn't sit still—expecting her to stay home and accompany an old man was unrealistic. Better to give the two of them a chance while they still had the energy... maybe create a "little version" of themselves.
With high hopes for the future, Bella and Natasha quietly estimated Charlie's total assets. Then, with mutual understanding, they hung up the phone.
Entering Phoenix City, Bella headed to West Phoenix and found Alex, the young student who had also sensed a strong premonition of death earlier.
She could feel that Death's attention had shifted away from her—good for her, but disastrous for normal people. She needed to know what was happening now.
"You... you've been attacked by... that thing, right?" Even though the bar's air conditioner was blasting cold air, Alex was still drenched in sweat, his nerves stretched tight as bowstrings.
"Yes," Bella replied firmly.
"How many times?"
Way too many! So many I can't remember! Of course she couldn't say that—he might faint on the spot.
"Twice."
Alex lowered his voice, terrified that revealing too much would draw Death's wrath down on him.
The smell of alcohol mixed with his sweat made Bella slightly uncomfortable, but she still leaned closer to listen. Since he was about to share the "truth," she needed to at least look like she cared.
As expected, nothing he said was new—still the same theory about Death killing according to the plane's seating order.
After patiently hearing him out, Bella finally asked the part she cared about: "How are the survivors doing now? Claire? Professor Grey? And that black-haired kid who worked at the French restaurant?"
Alex's face twisted with panic. "Sam Lawton is dead. Two hours ago. A kitchen knife stabbed straight through his skull..."
So the male lead got eliminated? Bella frowned slightly.
"I think Claire is with her brother. As for Professor Grey..." Alex thought for a moment. "He's staying at a friend's place—some pretty famous old millionaire."
Old millionaire? Bella was confused. She only knew Monopoly.
"Professor Xavier. Charles Xavier." Alex checked his phone and finally recalled the name.
Charles Xavier? Bella's mind spun once, and she immediately remembered—the smiling bald man in a wheelchair, the spiritual leader of the X-Men.
She wasn't completely clueless about the Marvel world. She just hadn't connected the dots. With the surname "Grey," everything made sense. Old John Grey himself might be weak—just an ordinary human—but his friends? His daughter (Jean Grey)? Monsters.
With Charles Xavier, Jean Grey, Cyclops, and the others around, even Death was a small fry. If Death tried anything, he'd probably "die again" before hurting anyone. So Professor Grey was, without a doubt, the safest person on the list.
After saying goodbye to Alex, Bella left the bar.
"Take me home." The moment she got in the car, the Pickup Lady suddenly spoke, sending Bella a simple message.
Bella quickly turned her head—and through the rearview mirror, she caught two extremely fast figures flashing past in the distance.
The vampires had chased her all the way to Phoenix! Great. Just what she needed.
Bella slammed on the accelerator, shooting out of the city like lightning.
One against two—she had no chance against vampires with real combat experience.
But the two vampires clearly weren't in peak condition anymore, and she still had the Pickup Lady helping her. The outcome was far from certain.
Bella pretended to be terrified, yanking the steering wheel wildly. The pickup truck skidded in arcs, sparks flying everywhere, like she was about to lose control at any moment.
She even shouted at them fiercely, "Is Laurent dead? Do you two want to die too? Idiots! Keep following me and you'll die!"
The vampires had chased her across four states. They were exhausted and furious—at this point, they wanted nothing more than to rip her apart, drink her blood, and tear out her heart.
But both remained silent, terrified that Bella's ability might be triggered by spoken language. They refused to give her that chance.
Even Death seemed to have wised up. No falling poles, no exploding transformers—there wasn't even a breeze. Everything was quiet, unnervingly quiet.
The two vampires flanked her on both sides, sprinting toward the pickup like shadows.
They were perfectly coordinated: the female vampire probing and intercepting, the male vampire aiming for the kill.
Bella kept calculating the distances. To her disappointment, the one closest was the female vampire. A pity—she had been saving one big move to take out the male vampire, James, who was better at tracking.
But he was too far. Victoria, the female vampire, was already within ten meters.
She made her decision instantly—kill one first!
Victoria was too fast. Leaving her alive was asking for trouble.
Bella yanked the handbrake, then whipped the steering wheel. She didn't even need to brake—the pickup turned a physically impossible 120 degrees on the spot. No tire friction, no skidding—the car simply swung around, still holding sixty percent of its speed.
She slammed the accelerator to the floor and charged straight at Victoria.