Station 11 Audiobook Novels & Stories

Eric Clapton never expected his ex-wife would move on overnight, and be living her best life. His friends have always mocked him for marrying such an ugly woman. When his mistress showed up, he couldn't exercise the smallest patience to stay married to Liana. "My mind is made up, Liana. Let's get a divorce. $90 million and the penthouse in Rochester will be compensation for your mental damage. Is that enough?" Eric put down the envelope and pen on the pillow beside her. Liana sat up, eyes glued to the man she has dedicated three years of her life to. "Is that all you have to say and offer?" She asked, her eyes holding a trace of detachment. Eric was stuck in thoughts. This was unlike the fragile and indecisive woman he married. Liana smiled as she gazed at his unreadable expression. "I can see you're really prepared for this, you know. This is obviously the first time in three years since you returned home before 11:00 pm, Eric." She added, her lips curling up into an enigmatic smile as she decisively scribbled her signature on the papers. The next morning at the courthouse, she held the divorce papers, her fragile heart tearing apart as she watched her ex husband smiling when he walked away, his hands carefully wrapped around another woman's waist while they strode to his car. Seeing him replace her so quickly was really heart wrenching, but right there, she saw another man who just got dumbed by his fiancee at the crucial hour, and without hesitation, she walked up to him and proposed to replace his fiancee. Now, what will Eric do when at the moment of his regret, he realised that she didn't only move on, but she's now his boss's wife?

At midnight, Marvin Cooper throws a confession form at my face. The sharp edge of the paper cuts the corner of my eye, and bright red blood begins to seep out. He barks, "Alyssa hit someone with her car. You have a similar build to her. Go to the police station and take the blame." His tone leaves no room for argument, as if he is casually asking me to make him a late-night snack. His first love, Alyssa Evans, hides behind him and tugs pitifully at his sleeve. "But Marvin, if Ms. Huston goes to jail, who's going to make the nourishing soup for you?" Marvin lets out a disdainful snort and looks at me with contempt. "She's just a piece of trash from an orphanage. She should be honored to take the blame for you. Without me, she wouldn't even be able to feed herself. Other than obeying me, what choice does she have?" I wipe the blood from the corner of my eye and look at the man for whom I have spent three years as an unpaid housekeeper and a living blood bank. To treat his stomach condition, I burn my hands countless times cooking for him. I become so anemic that I easily collapse because I've been donating my blood to Alyssa. Marvin is certain that I love him with all my heart, and that I can only cling to him for the rest of my life. I don't cry. I simply take off the cheap apron I'm wearing and say, "You don't need to throw me out. I'll leave on my own." Taking out my phone, I dial a number I have blocked for three years. "I've had my fun. Send a helicopter to pick me up tomorrow. It's time for me to go home and take over the family business."

Run, Run, RUN. Don’t stop. The night was falling and like the creatures of the day, I needed to hide. My heart is thundering in my chest, echoing the sounds of the war that rage from the fields of my once loved home. That was before the coven came. Surprising us and taking my home and pack. The attack happened so quickly that no one was ready. We had no warning and after hours of waiting I was found. I had to run. Don't stop running. “CRACK” the current of magic shoots by and hits the tree to my left, my bare feet crunching the earth hard and fast. My small heart fluttering faster than a hummingbird's wings, my once sparkling beautiful dress is no more. It’s tattered, dirty, and torn. The edges burnt to a crisp and coated in blood from bodies of the battlefield that I raced away from. “Come here little wolfie,” a harsh raspy voice calls out cutting through the trees I hide quickly behind a tree to take cover to breathe, “I just want a little chat!” He calls singsong like, taunting me. He wants to find me to kill me. Ducking further behind my tree I hold my breath, my young body shaking with so much force my bones ache. Holding my breath and closing my eyes hoping for safety that surely won’t come. At only 11 years of age, I can’t fight this grown warlock... he will surely kill me like he did my parents... “Wolfie princess, where are you?” He mimics the rhythm of a child’s tune, as if I’d listen. Closing my eyes tighter I don’t want to die. I’m too young. My mind is racing, and my hearts bound t....

For three years, I slept with my father’s head of security behind everyone’s back. Last night, with one hand at my throat and the other under my dress, he finally asked for a name, a future, something real. “After graduation,” I whispered against his mouth. “Let me finish my defense first. Then we’ll tell them.” “No.” By then I was shaking beneath him on the leather seat. “Then sooner. On my birthday next Friday. I’ll stop hiding then... Cassian, please—gentler...” That seemed to satisfy him. His mouth softened against my skin, and his voice dropped low against my ear. “Good girl. I just want you too much.” The next afternoon, I met my best friend for tea. The moment she opened the passenger door, she spotted the torn foil packet caught beside the seat and lifted a brow. “Bourbon cherry?” she said, already grinning. “That’s our company’s unreleased line. So this is what you’ve been hiding.” I snatched it up and shoved it into my bag. “It’s not public yet.” She frowned. “That’s the strange part. We only sent those samples to a handful of VIP clients.” Then she pulled out her phone. “I did a product follow-up with one of them yesterday, and his private account was basically a shrine to his girlfriend.” She turned the screen toward me. I only looked once, and my whole body went cold. The man in the photo had a line of Latin script inked low across his abdomen. I knew that tattoo. I had kissed it the night before. My fingers started shaking as I opened the private account Cassian had never shown me. April 4. The conservatory. Me and him. April 7. The upstairs studio. Me and him again. April 11—last night. A six-second clip in the back of the car.

Ariel Marie Morrison is 18 years old. When she was just 10, she lost her parents in a tragic plane crash. They were on a business trip to New York when their flight, the first to hit the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001, claimed the lives of her parents and 158 other passengers. Afterward, Ariel was taken in by her Uncle Steve, her father’s twin brother, and Aunt Diane, her mother’s best friend. Ariel had always dreamed of attending Harvard University, just like her parents, who often spoke fondly of their time there. Determined to follow in their footsteps, she earned a full scholarship to study English Literature. On her first day on campus, dressed in her best outfit and wearing her mother’s pearls, she crossed paths with the infamous Knight Brothers and their crew—an encounter she would soon wish had never happened. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said gently. “Watch where you’re going, nerd!” came a deep, mocking voice. “Yeah, sweetheart, watch it,” another chimed in. “Umm… excuse me?” she replied, disbelief in her tone. Laughter erupted around her as she felt dizzy and her throat tightened—panic setting in. Needing to escape, she quickly walked away, though she could feel three pairs of eyes on her. Austin, 18, Dustin, 19, and Justin, 20—the Knight Brothers—were the quintessential All-American golden boys: football stars, wealthy, arrogant, and adored by many. Every girl wanted them, and every guy wanted to be them. But when they set their sights on the sweet, shy, and innocent Ariel, they began treating her like property, possessive and controlling, even though she had never wronged them. The teasing, bullying, and name-calling began. Would Ariel stay quiet and play the part of the “good little nerd,” or would she find the courage to stand up to the Knights?

On the eve of the SAT exam, I caught a flu and became feverish, and developed a throat infection. My boyfriend's childhood friend, Wendy Cooper, accompanied me to the hospital so that I could receive an IV treatment there. I specifically told Wendy to let the doctor know that I was allergic to penicillin. Once my IV drip was ready, I raised my head to see the word "penicillin" labeled on the medicinal drip bag. Enraged, I summoned a doctor to remove the needle from my arm. At the same time, I demanded angrily, "I'm allergic to penicillin, so why did you still prescribe it to me?" The doctor frowned deeply at Wendy immediately. "Miss, your friend was the one who told us to prescribe you penicillin. She claims that you'll be able to make a quick recovery and that you'll be able to attend the exam without a hitch tomorrow." Wendy looked at me in an aggrieved manner. "I'm so sorry, Yvonne. I just wanted you to get well as soon as possible so that your performance on the exam won't get affected at all. This is all my fault. I'm so stupid that I can't even do one little thing right…" I let out a sigh before telling Wendy to be more careful next time. In order to show how apologetic she was, Wendy offered to pack up the stuff I needed for the SAT exam. In the middle of the exam, when I was filling in the answer sheet, a balled-up note suddenly rolled out of my pencil case. Someone reported me for cheating on the spot. When the invigilator unwrapped the note, he found out that it was completely filled with answers. I was labeled as a cheater on the spot and got kicked out of the exam venue. Because of the severity of this issue, I'd be facing jail time. I turned to glare at Wendy furiously and demanded why she wanted to harm me. But Wendy just rushed into my boyfriend, Christian Shepherd's arms while crying at the top of her lungs. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Yvonne!" Even Christian gave his testimony that I was the one who had prepared the note in an attempt to cheat on the exam. When I tried to drag Wendy over to the police station to have her penmanship tested, she pushed me down the stairs, resulting in my death. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day before the SAT exam starts.

On the seventh day after my dad's passing, I head over to the funeral home to wrap up the aftermath of the funeral as well as pack up my dad's personal effects. That's when an employee stops me and demands that I cough up an additional 100 thousand dollars for the storage and preservation of my dad's corpse. I'm stunned, to say the least. Dad has already gotten cremated and buried a long time ago. His ashes are already deposited inside the graveyard, as we speak. So, how is his body getting stored and preserved throughout the week? I use facts and logic to argue with the employee. But he has the gall to threaten me with an impatient scowl on his face. "Stop yapping already! The system shows that your father's body is still inside the cold storage! It's been seven days, so you must pay 100 thousand dollars, no matter what! If you refuse to settle the payment, you can forget about taking your father's personal effects with you! "When the time comes, you have to cough up the additional charges as well! If not, I shall see you at court!" As I stare at the hostile employee, I can feel rage simmering in my blood. Still, I call every family member and relative I have to borrow 100 thousand dollars from them just so I can make the payment. With the receipt in hand, I walk into the police station right away. "Officer, my dad was cremated and buried seven days ago. But the funeral home decided to charge me 100 thousand dollars' worth of storage and preservation fees for no reason! I suspect that they didn't send my father off the proper way!" When the police show up at the funeral home, the same employee who threatened me looks alarmed. He quickly gets his manager, Mr. Lawson, to deal with the situation. Impatience is etched all over Mr. Lawson's face as he snaps at me, "Your father has already gone through the cremation process seven days ago. The procedure and all the receipts are intact. Don't you dare kick up a fuss irrationally now!" I let out a cold chuckle in return before showing Mr. Lawson the receipt. "I'm being irrational, you say? I've just paid for the storage fees of my father's corpse, and here's the receipt to prove the validity of the transaction! You must return my father to me today!" I thought the funeral home insisted on charging me earlier. Now, they'd better fulfill their side of the bargain by returning my dad's corpse to me without a single hair out of place!

My cousin, Jeffrey Coleman, whom I haven't gotten in touch with for years, suddenly shows up on my doorstep. "Chris, if I remember correctly, you have a Toyota Crown parked in your garage, right? Lend it to me as my wedding car, alright? "We're cousins, so I'll pay you 500 dollars. Aren't I generous?" The Toyota Crown Jeffrey has mentioned is an original model from the 90s. It's still coated in the same paint it was produced in. My grandpa has left it to me. Over the years, I've already sunk in more than 100 thousand dollars just to renew every part. And now, Jeffrey thinks he gets to drive the car after paying me 500 measly dollars? I turn him down tactfully. "The car's far too old, Jeffrey. I'm worried that it might break down halfway to the wedding venue and cause a delay on your big day." Unexpectedly, the moment Jeffrey gets home, he's quick to issue everyone in the family group chat e-invitations. "I've already booked the wedding car! It's a Toyota Crown that's produced in the 90s, and it's still in its original glory! This car is definitely better than Porsche and Mercedes! "On the big day, this car will be in charge of picking up the bride and groom twice! Of course, the newlyweds get to ride this car. If there are any other relatives who want to share the ride, leave a message here!" Everyone is quick to praise Jeffrey for his quick wits. To think that he's capable of borrowing something vintage from the older generation! On Jeffrey's wedding day, he shows up outside my garage with a dozen or so people. "Open up, Chris! Where's the car key? We're in a hurry, you know!" Soon, the garage door is opened from the inside. The Toyota Crown isn't there. Instead, a police cruiser is parked in its place. A traffic officer can be seen crouching on the ground while taking photos for evidence. "You guys plan on driving the Toyota Crown? Someone has reported this car for not meeting the qualifications, and that it's suspected to be used in an illegal business. I'm going to need all of you to make a trip to the police station with me." Jeffrey panics immediately. "We didn't even get to drive it yet! How is this illegal?" The traffic officer glances up at him. "The report has included tens of hundreds of conversation screenshots. You've publicly posted the routes and even invited people to ride with you in the group chat. "Please explain to me what your actions mean, if not advertising your ride to get more customers."

My 60-year-old father hasn't been able to sire any other children than me due to an injury that affects his manhood. However, my mom has just gotten pregnant with triplets. When I take him to the hospital for a follow-up checkup, a man suddenly shows up and drags Dad off to undergo a vasectomy. Upon returning to the scene after registering Dad's details at the nurse's station, I'm stunned by what I see. Still, I rush over to stop the man. Instead, a nurse stops me and tells me, "Ms. Ashford's husband is apprehending the man she's cheating with right now! Don't go rushing into their mess!" I'm both shocked and confused at the same time. Ms. Ashford, a.k.a Selena Ashford, is my mother! Then her husband should be my dad! "You old bastard! You already have one foot in the grave, and yet you still have the balls to seduce a married woman! How dare you attempt to fight over my family's assets with my son! I'll have you know that this hospital belongs to my daughter-in-law, Emily Carter! Let's see if you can survive long enough to spend any of my family fortune!" Dad refuses to enter the surgery room. Instead, he manages to wrestle the man away from him and try to escape. Upon noticing Dad's escape attempt, the man yells for other people to hold him down. Then, he punches Dad in the groin a few times. "Selena and I have been married for 40 years, and we only have Elias as our only son! Emily is the daughter-in-law whom we've personally selected for him as well! Since when did she become your daughter-in-law?" Dad screams hysterically. "That's right! Emily is my wife! You're no father of mine!" I quickly exclaim. The man eyes me up and down in disdain. "Nowadays, even homewreckers have their buddies to do their dirty work with them! My son, the heir of Ashford Group, is Dylan Ashford! How dare you impersonate him!" Before I can say anything, the man dials a number and starts yelling into his phone. "Emily Carter, are you and your mother-in-law both cheating on my son and me together? I'm giving you a chance right now! You'd better come over and deal with this side piece of yours before Dylan finds out about your affair!" I feel as though my world has come crashing down. Are my mom and my wife seriously cheating on my dad and me at the same time?

Every other student could hear the inner thoughts of Chloe Yates, the campus belle. It was like a radio station was broadcasting her mind, and unfortunately for me, the broadcast was usually bad news. It started during the ROTC courses in our freshman year. I was doubled over with terrible period cramps and asked to sit out. Chloe just shook her head, letting out a dramatic, pitying sigh. "Oh, this is awful," her internal voice broadcast to everyone. "Should I tell everyone the truth? Sylvie is totally faking it. If the sergeant finds out she's lying, he's going to punish the whole class because of her." The sergeant, hearing her thoughts, immediately assumed I was a liar. He forced the entire class to run 30 laps as punishment. After that, no one would talk to me. Later, when I applied for the need-based financial aid grant, Chloe went on a rampage with her internal thoughts. "Her family isn't poor!" her voice screamed in everyone's heads. "They have a car and a house. She's just vain. She's trying to scam the college out of grant money so she can buy a new phone. I feel so bad for the actual poor kid whose spot she's stealing." Once the class heard that, they silently agreed to vote against my application. Without that money, I had no choice but to work three part-time jobs just to survive. I worked myself into the ground until I finally gave out. I collapsed in the classroom while clutching my chest, suffering a massive heart attack. I cried out, begging my classmates to call 911. However, Chloe's voice cut through the air right then. "She doesn't have a heart condition. She's pregnant. She's trying to trick a guy into taking her to the hospital so she can get an abortion, and then she's going to frame whoever helps her for getting her knocked up." Terrified of being blamed, the students backed away from me like I was radioactive. They stood there and watched as I died on the classroom floor. Right up until the moment I died, I never understood why my life had turned into such a nightmare. However, when I snapped my eyes open, I had returned to the day of the ROTC courses. The cramps were back, and the sun was beating down on me. Chloe did not know one crucial detail. This time, I could hear her thoughts too.