The Billion-Dollar Idea

Early in the morning, Ivan sat alone in his bedroom, his elbows resting on the table, pen and notebook in hand. His eyes were heavy from lack of sleep, and his mind was racing faster than ever. The sky outside was just beginning to light up.

He had come back from death. Reborn into a world that had no clue what was about to come crashing down.

The apocalypse was coming.

He needed a plan. A way to become rich—filthy rich—before it all began. Not just for himself, but for his family. He wanted to build a base, a fortress, a haven where they could survive the end of the world.

"Start a business?" Ivan mumbled to himself, writing it down and quickly crossing it out. "Naaaah Too slow. Takes months or years. I don't have that kind of time."

He tapped the pen on the paper and bit his lip.

"Steal from a bank? Yeah, right." He scoffed. "I don't have guns. No getaway car. No plan. Can't just walk in and say,