Akio Tokyo Ever After Novels & Stories

My younger sister had sworn off marriage and children, but as we grew older, she envied me for having both a husband and son. Not only did she demand that I share my husband with her, but she even wanted my son to care for her in her old age. I scolded her for being delusional and shameless. But she held a grudge, and in front of my son, she claimed that I had cut off his chance at inheriting a fortune. He believed her. With one strike, he killed me and then declared to the world that my sister was his real mother. When I opened my eyes again, I returned to the day my sister refused to go on a blind date. This time, she happily agreed to it and even boasted to me that she planned to have many kids. "Liz Stanton, this time, I'll be the one with a husband and kids." But I had no intention of reliving the misery of marriage either.

I suffer from extreme mental illness. My sister, Ava Monroe, became a facial model to earn money for my expensive medical treatment. She was 5’3” tall but was noticed because of her beauty by a wealthy young man by the name of Dominic Pierce with a leg obsession. He imprisoned her. “This is the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen. If only your legs were a bit longer, I’d die with a smile.” Ava was forced to have leg-lengthening surgery. After the operation, her legs began to rot. Dominic found her disgusting and locked her in the basement. He tortured her until she died. I got kicked out of the mental health institute because I could not pay the medical fees. I found Dominic surrounded by beautiful women with long legs. “Those are the prettiest legs I’ve ever seen. If only your face were a little cuter, I’d die with a smile!” I pointed to the painting of Ava and scoffed, “What if I become her?”

"Mrs. Sterling, are you sure you're ready to end this marriage of twenty years and give up the custody?" "Yes. File it. I’m done." I said calmly through the phone as I scrubbed at a stubborn grease stain on the granite island. For twenty years, I poured my entire being into this family. I managed the households, handled the children's education , and stood by my husband's side, supporting his rise in the syndicate without complaint. But my husband Alexander brought his young adopted sister Chloe to the interview, saying, "My success today is all thanks to my adopted sister." Even my own children looked down on me, calling me common and crude housewife. They had formed an alliance with his ever-present "auntie," the woman who seemed to think she was the true lady of the house. I signed the divorce papers and walked away, leaving them to become the "perfect family" they clearly wanted. But that when the family panicked…

The full moon hangs high in the night sky at 1:00 am. My mate, Alpha Chris Dalton of the Southern Gray Wolf pack has just returned from a patrol around the border. It has been three days since he last slept. He still smells of blood and rust from the times he had fought against packs of Rogues. When we're about to rest, Chris hears Emily Gibson's cries coming from his mind-link. "Alpha Chris, I think I smell a Rogue near my house. I'm so scared…" Chris shifts into a huge wolf and dashes out of our home without hesitation. He only returns the next day at dawnbreak, his exhaustion evident on his face. "Emily suffered from a fright last night, so I had to keep her company the whole night." When Chris notices the way I sit on the edge of the bed quietly without moving in to kiss him as usual, he approaches me in exasperation. Then, he wraps an arm around my shoulders before nuzzling his head against my neck affectionately, as though he were a huge dog who had made a mistake. "Emily is the mate of a Beta who has sacrificed himself for the pack, Selena. Not to mention, she's with pup at the moment. As the pack's Alpha, I'm obligated to take care of her. But I promise that I'll reduce the visitation times in the future, so please stop being unhappy with me, okay?" With red-rimmed eyes, I push Chris' arm away. "Alpha Chris, let's sever our mate bond."

I transmigrate into a melodramatic angst novel. My CEO wife, Victoria Gibson, hangs me up and beats me brutally to force me to agree to a divorce. But when I see the two-billion-dollar breakup fee, my eyes light up again and again. With both my hands injured, I quickly grab a pen with my foot and sign the divorce agreement. I say with a grin, "Thanks for the money. I wish you two a long and happy marriage. May you have many children."

The day I learned the family's secretary had been Richard's mistress for three years, I called off the wedding without a second thought. Heartsick, I took a family flight and moved out to the West Coast, only to walked straight into an ambush. When they had me surrounded, Richard appeared out of nowhere and threw himself in front of the bullet meant for me. He ordered his most trusted guards to keep me alive, whatever it cost. Dying, he stared deep into my eyes. "Elise, I have no right to ask your forgiveness. Just live. Live well, and let me love you properly in the next." The sea ran high and wild that day, and they never found his body. By the time the rescue boat pulled me out of the water, I had already cried myself hoarse. After that I lived to eighty, carrying the guilt of him every single day. Then I opened my eyes again and found myself back, before he had ever betrayed me. This time, before I could even speak, he fired Charlotte right in front of me. Apart from family business, his greatest interest was cooking dinner for me. Everyone marveled at it. The Don himself, Richard, loved Elise nearly to the point of madness. And then, the night before our wedding, I heard his thoughts. [I'm finally about to have Elise.] [This time I can't let her find out Charlotte exists.]

During a train ride, I happen to notice an intimidating-looking man staring at his phone while seated next to me. Surprisingly enough, an R-rated scene is playing out on his screen. Out of the kindness of my heart, I remind the man not to watch such things in a public setting. Without raising his head, he replies coldly, "This is the security footage of my home." Feeling very awkward, I quickly apologize to him. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know that. I'm really sorry." Just as I'm about to say something else, the male protagonist of the footage suddenly raises his head. At that moment, I feel my blood going cold in my veins. After all, he's Reynolds Mitchell, the fiance with whom I'm supposed to partake in a mating ceremony next month.

My mate, Carter, sent me to a werewolf prison for four years. On the day I was released, he arrived holding the hand of his pregnant mistress. “This is what your parents owe me.” “From today on, you’ll take care of Amelia.” I nodded obediently. She made me pick roses with my bare hands. Made me plant a hundred pots under the scorching sun. Made me scrub my allergic, ulcerated skin with alcohol. And I did everything she asked. Until the day they brought me back to my old home. The house was gone. In its place stretched an endless rose garden. And my only sister— had become nothing but a box of ashes. That was the moment I understood. I survived not to atone. I survived to take revenge.

"I want a divorce. " The day before her third wedding anniversary, Fiona sees her husband walking to the obstetrics wing with his arm around his ex-girlfriend, Rowena. Rowena is pregnant. Heartbroken, Fiona rejects Micah, her husband, her mate, the Lycan Prince of the Alastair Kingdom, and leaves the pack. --- However, to Fiona’s surprise, after being rejected, Micah goes crazy looking for her all over the world. Until one day, when he sees her walking down the street holding a little girl, he pins her against the wall. “Is she my daughter?” Micah hisses.

I was diagnosed with stomach cancer, so I went online to hire an undertaker in the hopes that he would collect my body. That way, I could die and be buried. I would like to finally be at peace, even if it meant that I could only achieve it after death. I packed up my bags and left home in search of a place to die, only to receive a message from my undertaker. [Sorry, something came up. I can’t come now.] …Excuse me? I’m already half-dead, and you’re blowing me off?