Post Apocalyptia Novels & Stories

Mom dies of rage when she discovers that the bride at my wedding has become Nelly Johnson, Harvey Fisher's business partner. My wedding turns into Mom's funeral the moment she breathes her last breath. Despite that, Harvey insists that the ceremony continue as planned. He even orders me to put the wedding ring on Nelly's finger. "Hurry up and put it on! I'll explain everything to you tonight!" he snarls. I ignore him and leave the hotel with Mom's body in my arms. The wedding ends with a banging success at 8:00 pm. Nelly updated her social media with a post that's liked by tens of thousands of people. "I've finally married the light of my life! I'd like to thank a certain homewrecker for leaving after remembering her place." Harvey updates his social media with a similar post. "Those who are unworthy don't deserve to be loved." I like both their posts in the ice-cold morgue. I comment, "I wish you two a lifetime of happiness." Then, I head home with Mom's ashes. When I enter the house, I see Harvey holding Nelly tightly while making out with her.

“Marry me. Put this thing on tomorrow. You are going to tell the press that Bella cheated on me and we started dating, when Bella found out she tried to separate us and when she could not she blackmailed you to upload this photo. This will make me hate you, but we have already reconciled,” he explained. What the hell? How did I get myself into this sought of mess? **** Laura finds herself in a great dilemma when her mother is kidnapped. They ask her to post the photo of Eric Sloan the son of a multi-billionaire together with Damien Avery, the son of the prime minister and she should tag them as gay. To keep her mother alive she reluctantly posts it drawing the attention of the arrogant billionaire together with his powerful family and fans. To rectify her mistakes he asks her to marry him, thereby waving off the allegation of him being gay. He promises himself to make it his life mission to destroy her for what she did. As the truth unfolds, what started as a revenge turns into a dangerous obsession and all he wants to do is to protect her, to claim her, own her, and keep her within his dark abyss.

I saw a trending post on a werewolf forum: "How to get your mate to break the bond with you?" The poster said he was going to lie to his mate about going on a wilderness trial, but he was really planning to run off with his "true love." I silently scoffed. What a shameless scumbag. But the next day, my Alpha mate came home, smelling of another she-wolf. "For the future of our pack, I have to go on a lone wolf trial in the wilderness," he said. "We should temporarily break our mate bond." I looked at his phony face and nodded calmly. "Okay. Whatever you say. We'll break the bond tomorrow." Later, he took the family money and his lover and disappeared. But with his parents' support, I became an executive at the family company. He blew through all the money, ditched his lover, and came crawling back to the country, trying to win me over. But by then, I was already at my engagement party with another, far better Alpha. I said it from the beginning. He was the one who chose to abandon his family. Even if he wanted to come back, this place would be nothing but his personal hell.

My husband, Don Axel Thorne, died protecting me in a mob war. I was his widow for six years, until I turned thirty. The old guard of the Family told me it was time to move on. My friends told me to let him go. Even in my dreams, his bloody hands would cup my face, begging me to live again. So I agreed to an arranged marriage. But first, I went to his grave for one last goodbye. I’d just left the cemetery when a post appeared in my feed. [Thanks, hubby, for the six-year anniversary gift! A fifty-million-dollar penthouse in Miami!] My blood ran cold. My hands shook. The phone nearly slipped from my grip. In the photo, the man I buried six years ago was slipping a massive diamond onto another woman's finger. The background was a lavish penthouse. His style. I put my people on it. We had the location in minutes. Drove straight there. I knocked, the door opened, and I froze. The woman standing there was Seraphina. His adoptive sister. The one the Family exiled six years ago for her obsession with him.

On the very day I sold my company shares to raise money for my wife’s medical treatment, my phone flashed with a notification about a trending post. "My husband or my lover, which should I choose?" An anonymous reply shot to the top of the comments. "Why choose? I want both." What followed was a casual, shameless confession. A staged car accident right after the wedding, a fake overseas treatment plan, parents who helped maintain the lie, and millions siphoned off under the excuse of life-saving medical fees. The money was never for treatment. It funded luxury vacations, hotel suites, and a long-term affair. Someone asked if she was afraid her husband would find out. Her answer was chilling. "Why would I be afraid? He thinks he took my first time and swore to take responsibility for me forever. He doesn’t know it was just a repair surgery I did for his sake." The post ended with a vacation photo. A woman in a bikini, smiling under the sun. And on her waist, a tattoo with the letters 'NG.' The same tattoo worn by my wife.

My cafe's sales have doubled recently. On the day before the celebration party, my younger brother, Ian Kingston, comes looking for me. "Vivian, I'm going to marry Louisa soon. We should dissolve our business partnership." He adds, "Louisa mentioned that she and I work better together as husband and wife. She intends to open a cafe with me so that we can spend the rest of our lives together. "Vivian, you'll marry into another family someday. This cafe is a business under the Kingston family, so you should withdraw from the partnership right away." Louisa Nott has yet to become Ian's wife, but she is already thinking of taking over the Kingstons' assets? I post an announcement on my family group chat right away. "My own brother decides to dissolve our business partnership because of his girlfriend, so I shall be opening a branch of my own. When the time comes, everyone here is welcome to my cafe to sample my food. It'll be completely free of charge!"

On the day Owen Mercer and I get married, I place our marriage certificate beside our candlelit dinner. Just as I'm about to take a picture and upload it to social media, Owen suddenly says, "This certificate is fake." I freeze. A woman's startled voice comes through his phone, "Hey! Why did you tell her so soon? You ruined all the fun!" Owen frowns in frustration. "She's been completely clueless this entire time. Is there really any reason to keep pretending? Fine. You win the bet, Ms. McCoy. Are you satisfied now?" But my post has already been shared on social media. Everyone is sending their congratulations to Owen and me, celebrating that we have finally tied the knot after seven years together. The woman on the other end leaves a sarcastic comment, just like how she used to bully me back in the day. "Wow, look at you two finally making it official! So when's the reception? Hehe!" After a moment's thought, I respond, "Next week."

I post a wedding photo with my fiance, Miles Kingston, on my Instagram story. But I forgot to hide it from his first love, Chloe Bennett. The very next day, Miles gets his revenge. He puts our wedding night up for auction online. After the wedding ceremony, I find Miles in a private room at the restaurant, holding my phone. Then, I hear him haggling with his buddies. "One million for one night. Not a cent less." "Miles, even if Aria's still a virgin, that price is way too much!" "Too much? She's my wife! I haven't even touched her yet! Push the bid up!" Everyone in the room bursts out laughing. "Seriously? You're ditching your wife on your wedding night? What if she totally flips out?" Miles scoffs. "She showed off our wedding to Chloe and made her upset. It already kills me that I couldn't marry the woman I actually love. Besides..." He holds up a blister pack of white pills and sneers. "With this, she'll be too out of it to even know who's touching her." My phone slips from my hand and hits the floor as tears slide down my cheeks.

We have been dating for ten years, but Vincent Carter has never been romantic toward me. However, before our wedding, he has someone deliver a delicate bracelet and an elegant dress to me. I take photos of them happily, only to find a card tucked inside the dress that's not addressed to me. Just as I'm about to contact Vincent, I see a post from Emily Foster, his childhood sweetheart, on her social media. "Someone stole something that belongs to me!" That's also how I find out Vincent has also bought her an apartment. The address stated on the card is for the unit downstairs. The gift is meant for unit 701, but it's delivered to me by mistake. I pick up the items and go downstairs, just in time to see Vincent gently comforting her in his arms. The moment he sees me, his face darkens with irritation. "Can you stop overreacting? You're always suspicious for no reason. Emily and I grew up together. If we were going to be together, you wouldn't even be in the picture!" If it were before, I would've been furious and demanded an explanation. But now, I simply let out a chuckle and toss the gifts onto him. "I wish you both the best, then."

For eight long years, Bryan Millan and I were married, but you’d never have known it by looking at his life. He never once acknowledged our relationship in public. Not a single post, not a single mention of me on his social media. Then came our anniversary. The day that was supposed to be about us. Instead, Bryan made an announcement on his Instagram account—just not the one I expected. There he was, hand in hand with his assistant, her draped in a wedding dress. The caption read: [When you're in love, you want the whole world to know.] The comments flooded in. [Bryan finally got married!] [Congrats! Wishing you a lifetime of happiness together!] In that moment, I could no longer lie to myself. Bryan wasn't reserved. He just never loved me. So, I decided to let go. But he wasn't ready for that. He clung to me, desperate now. But I pried his hands off and laughed—a real, genuine laugh, the kind that comes from somewhere deep inside when you realize you're finally free. Then, I looked him straight in the eye and said the words I'd been holding in, "Don't beg me to come back. Because now that I don't love you, I've never felt better."