Post Apocalyptic Outfit Ideas Novels & Stories

I was randomly proposed to by an attractive billionaire who has never been known to be in any kind of relationship; he was every woman's dream man. He wasn’t just any incredibly handsome billionaire; he was New Yorks most eligible, and most fantasised-about billionaire bachelor. So when he asked me to marry him out of the blue, without even knowing my last name, I couldn’t say no. Any woman would have jump at the chance if she were in my place at that moment. But little did I know that my living hell was about to begin. Despite living in luxury, having access to money I had run out of ideas on how to spend, and being the wife of Aldwin Ellison, the insanely handsome billionaire whom influential women had clung to in the hope of being his, I still felt unloved and unhappy.. In his eyes, the only thing I was good for was satisfying his dark sexual desires; I was only meant to please him, not receive love. Determined to end my misery, I filed for a divorce unaware that the marriage contract I signed with Aldwin had a hidden clause: “The marriage comes to an end If, and only when, Aldwin Ellison says so.” I had signed away my rights to becoming his plaything.

In the third year of my marriage, I endure a full day of painful labor to give birth to my first child. However, my husband steals the baby to give to his true love. I try my damnedest to stop him, but all I get is a barrage of insults. "It's just a baby! I'm the one who planted the seed, so I get to decide who gets the fruit!" I'm overwhelmed by grief as I watch my husband leave. However, he shares a happy post on his social media. "Mother and daughter are safe." His true love comments, "Thank you for giving me a child, Jaspie. I'll be the happiest woman in the world with you two by my side." Clueless friends bless them and wish them well. I silently comment, "Give me back my child." All I get is another round of insults. Then, I'm blocked. I don't want to endure this anymore. I hire a lawyer to draft divorce papers before making a police report. "Officer, I want to report my husband for child trafficking."

I happen to come across a popular post regarding a company's finance department on social media. "Seriously, that person in the sales department is such an idiot! All I wanted was to claim reimbursement under her name for the bag I bought, and yet she still refused! "Since she doesn't want me to reimburse my bag, then she can forget about reimbursing everything! This time, I'll teach her a lesson about what happens when she offends a member of the finance department!" There are many bashing comments in the comment section, but the original poster doesn't care at all. She continues adopting a haughty tone. "What am I scared of? The finance department is extremely vital to the company! I refuse to believe that the boss has the courage to offend me, the most important person alive, just to stand up for a sales employee who's easily replaceable!" As I stare at the familiar profile picture belonging to the original poster, I can't help but mentally sneer. She wants to suspend all of my reimbursements, huh? Go ahead, then! This time, I'd like to see what the consequences are for offending a member of the finance department!

I gave Evan Cole six years. I changed my name, walked away from the Moretti family, and became the kind of woman he could handle: quiet, useful, easy to overlook. I paid the bills, fixed his proposals, opened doors he thought had opened by luck, and waited every time he said we were almost ready. Then Maracame back. His first love. The woman he swore he hated until the second she needed him again. After that, I became the problem. Too jealous. Too dramatic. Too hard to please. Evan thought I would break down and beg for my place. While he played house with Mara, I saved every receipt, every post, every lie. Then I cut off the money behind his perfect little life and called my family. On Christmas Eve, he asked if I would wait. I smiled and let him believe Leah was still waiting. By the time he learned my real name, Alessia Moretti was already gone, and the mafia princess he never knew had finally chosen herself.

I had been married to Natasha Bates for ten years, and not once did she ever join me for our family's Independence Day cookout. This year, on the night before the celebration, I finally gathered the courage to ask if she wanted to come. She scoffed and said, "What are you, stuck in the past? Who even celebrates the Fourth with a family dinner anymore?" Yet that very evening, I saw a social media post of Natasha with her male best friend, Stanley Rogers. They were quite intimate in the picture, and the caption read: [True happiness is celebrating Independence Day with your bestie!] I commented back: [Hope you two lovebirds make it official soon.] Stanley did not hold back. He messaged me a bunch of intimate photos of the two of them. Then, he added, [You're just a leech living off his wife. What right do you have to question anything about Nattie?] Everyone always thought I was a gold-digger living off Natasha's success. However, they all forgot that I was the sole major shareholder of the company. This time, I’m done staying silent.

When Eric Sutton—my charming CEO husband—found out I handed a million-dollar project to his assistant Vivien Cheney, he figured his three months of radio silence had finally broken me. Suddenly, he's all, "Let's go to Iceland for our honeymoon!" Vivien heard and threw a fit. Threatened to quit. Classic. Eric, who treated her like royalty, freaked out. After three days of begging, he bailed on the trip—said it was for "work"—then handed her my ticket. Later, he shrugged it off. "Romance's petty. Work comes first. You're my wife. You get it, right?" Right. I just stared at Vivien's new post: a couples selfie—cheek to cheek, hands shaped like a heart. I didn't say a word. Just nodded. Eric thought I was finally playing the role: calm, supportive, mature. Promised an even better honeymoon when he got back. Too bad I'd already quit. Too bad he'd already signed the divorce papers. We were done.

Since I was a little girl, my mom had always taught me that I deserve all the good things in life. When I was still a student, my copycat roommate bought the same outfit that I had on purpose. She even asked me if she looked fat in it. I just shook my head. "I don't know. I, for one, have an amazing figure, so it definitely looks good on me." Once I start working, a male colleague decides to pursue me. So, I come up with an excuse on the spot and tell him that I already have a boyfriend. He looks at me with pain etched in his eyes. Then, he asks me if I'll take him into consideration after I break up with my boyfriend. I just sneer at him in return. "It seems that you don't love me enough. Otherwise, why aren't you offering to become my side piece?" Due to my principles, everyone keeps cursing me out and calling me an arrogant woman who has no sense of shame behind my back. But one day, when my blind date hears about my personality quirk, he decides to take me back to his home to visit his mother during the holidays. "My mom is the type who keeps demeaning herself for no reason. She keeps claiming that she's unworthy of anything in life. I swear, she's driving me mad! "If you can help my mom get rid of this habit, I'll give you whatever you want." This is definitely an interesting proposal. So, I accept it confidently with a pat on the chest. "Don't worry. Leave it to me."

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 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.

Every year, my husband, Daniel Trahan, elopes with his childhood sweetheart, Callie Reed, on our wedding anniversary. On that day, they do everything that a loving couple does. On our fifth year anniversary, Daniel ordered me to put on a maid's outfit and serve them on hand and foot for 24 hours. "You've always wanted me to spend more time with you, right? I'm giving you a chance right now. Tomorrow, I'll come home and have one meal with you. "By the way, Callie's lower back hurts. You'll have to support her whenever she needs you." I complete all of my tasks obediently. When we meet up the next day, I hand him a divorce agreement. Daniel scoffs at the sight. Then, he drops his signature casually. "Oh? Are you playing hard to get again? Every time, you'll end up begging me to return to you while crying like an abandoned pet. If you're that eager to let everyone see how big a doormat you are, I shall grant your wish. "When you come crawling back to me this time, I'll stream the whole thing live so that everyone can see how spineless you are." Daniel thinks I'm throwing another tantrum this time. What he doesn't know is that the day of his elopement with Callie is also the day I get to go on my private date. Now, that lover of mine demands a proper title from me.