Chapter 4- survivors

"Thank you so much for helping us. When the National Guard comes to rescue us in a few days, you can come with us," Henry said with a smile, glancing at Jonathan's face. Although his heart was filled with contempt for Jonathan's skin color, his good upbringing allowed him to conceal that disdain with such skill that it made him appear approachable instead.

In this era, racial discrimination in America was particularly severe, with white people harboring deep-rooted contempt and arrogance towards Black and Latino people. For some of the successful white individuals, Black and Latino people were nothing more than lower-class slaves. They still hadn't moved beyond the scars left by the era of slavery.

"Hello, sir. Nice to meet you. Do you have any food here?" Tiffany said, extending her hand to Jonathan with elegant yet haughty grace. "We haven't eaten in two days. We're absolutely starving. Could you please get us something to eat? Thank you."

Jonathan shook her hand. Tiffany's hand was delicate, soft, long, and smooth. The moment he touched it, he felt a flutter of attraction.

If this had been his past life, just shaking hands with a superstar like Tiffany, such a beauty, might have left Jonathan sleepless all night with excitement.

But now, in the post-apocalyptic world, Tiffany was nothing more than an alluring, stunning woman. The fact that she was a celebrity didn't matter much. In this new world, Jonathan felt that there was no real difference between stars and ordinary people anymore.

Jonathan pulled two loaves of bread and two bottles of drinks from the fridge, handing them to the pair. Then, he casually asked, "How did you end up here? Have you met any other survivors?"

"We have a vacation villa nearby. When the apocalypse broke out, we were here on vacation. A few days ago, we ran out of food, so we had no choice but to drive out and take a chance. I heard on the car radio that the military has set up a shelter in Los Angeles. As long as we get there, we'll be safe. But we didn't expect that just after leaving, we ran into a huge horde of zombies, and our car got wrecked..." Henry said, elegantly eating a piece of bread while reclining comfortably on the sofa. His fire axe, however, remained within easy reach beside him.

Their noble upbringing was evident—even in the extreme hunger of the apocalypse, they still ate slowly and gracefully. This kind of elegance wasn't something one could acquire overnight. Even in the end times, Tiffany and Henry remained very particular about their image.

Of course, their long-standing arrogance and prejudice remained unchanged as well.

"So, you're the first survivor we've encountered. Tell us about yourself, friend. Why are you here? This villa doesn't seem to belong to you?" Henry asked with a smile, his gaze scanning Jonathan politely, but the underlying arrogance and skepticism were still apparent in his words.

Jonathan could still feel the condescension in Henry's every word and action.

"Well... this... this is my home, but... I'm not really familiar with it..." Jonathan hesitated, unsure of how to answer. He had suddenly found himself here, and as for whether it truly belonged to him, he wasn't sure either.

"After all, it's the apocalypse now. Most people have turned into zombies. As survivors, it's understandable that you'd seek refuge in this unoccupied villa to survive!" Tiffany said, elegantly sipping her drink. Her soft, pink lips shimmered with a captivating gloss as she smiled at Jonathan, but her tone still carried an undeniable air of disdain and arrogance.

Clearly, neither of them believed that a young Latino like Jonathan could possibly own such a luxurious villa.

In their minds, Jonathan was already subconsciously seen as just another Latino in America, either a servant or a thief who had taken over the villa after the apocalypse.

After all, many Latinos in the U.S. had a reputation for having questionable hands, even comparable to that of Black people.

At this moment, Jonathan finally had time to take in the stunning beauty sitting before him.

Her skin was like porcelain, her eyes captivating, and paired with dazzling blonde hair, she truly embodied the phrase "there is no such beauty in the world—either a fairy or a demon."

Her wine-red dress clung to her body, and her fair skin—typical of white women—only highlighted Tiffany's extraordinary beauty even more.

In this outfit, it wasn't just that the dress was fitted to her—it was as if the dress existed for her. A woman like her should only exist in the heavens and has mistakenly fallen into the mortal world.

No wonder, in later years, people would say that in the presence of such a goddess, even the handsome, talented, and globally adored Tom Cruise seemed to pale in comparison.

"Sir, we've been starving for two days. This little bit of food isn't enough to satisfy us. Could you please get us some more? If you have steak and wine, that would be perfect," Tiffany said, gracefully sitting on the sofa. Due to the sofa's deep curve, her wine-red skirt shifted, revealing a small slit.

Tiffany naturally extended her long, smooth left leg, crossing it over the right.

Her legs were as white and flawless as jade, without a single imperfection. Not even a hint of body hair.

Her leg shape was perfect—any more would have detracted from its elegant length, any less would have lost its full, tempting allure.

From Jonathan's angle, for just a moment, he caught a glimpse of Tiffany's alluring pink lace underwear.

"There's steak and wine in the fridge, but it's been without power for a while, so I'm not sure if the steak is still good," Jonathan said, pointing toward the kitchen fridge. "You can take whatever you want from the fridge. I've got a few things to take care of, so I won't keep you two any longer."

With that, Jonathan reluctantly shifted his gaze away from Tiffany's legs and made his way toward the stairs.