Caption Newspaper

For five years, I thought our marriage was solid. Then, my husband, Lionel Franco’s first love, Sandra Howard, posted a photo of a property deed on her social media. The caption read: [Thank you, Lionel, for transferring the house to me.] I stared in disbelief and left a single comment: [WTF?] Lionel called within minutes. “She’s a struggling single mother. Transferring the house to her makes it easier for her son to get into school. It doesn’t affect where we live,” he snapped. “How can you be so lacking in compassion?” In the background, I heard her muffled sobs. Half an hour later, she tagged me in another post.  This time, she flaunted her Mercedes worth over a million dollars, with the caption: [Paid in full. As the saying goes, ‘Where a man spends his money, that's where his heart is’.] I knew he bought it to soothe her temper. But this time, I had enough. I decided to divorce him.

I was a plus-size girl, weighing about 220 pounds. On graduation day, I finally gathered the courage to confess my feelings to Calvin Preston, the heartthrob I had been crushing on for three years. Surprisingly, he said yes! To celebrate, we went out that night. But things took a dark turn. I was tricked into drinking too much and was drugged. Calvin and his buddies violated me and, to make matters worse, they filmed it all. The next thing I knew, the video had gone viral online with a cruel caption, “Who’s brave enough to try a 220-pound girl?” As the humiliating video spread like wildfire, the shock and shame were too much for my grandfather to bear. It broke his heart, quite literally.

In the third year of our marriage, my wife’s ex-boyfriend of eight years suddenly posted a picture on social media showing off a multi-million-dollar wedding house. His caption read: “Wow, got myself a huge villa, I’m the master of charming women!” I stared in shock at the picture, which showed my wife swiping her card at a sales office, and left a single comment: "?" A second later, my wife called to scold me. “I was just fulfilling a promise I made to him back when we were dating, buying him a house. Why are you getting mad at him?” “What? Are you really going to be so vicious as to force me to break my word?” That evening, her ex showed off another lavish post, this time flaunting a renovation bill worth hundreds of thousands. I knew it was a gift from my wife to please him. But by then, I no longer cared.

"Camille had only been heading to her grandma’s house because Gran couldn’t figure out her cable again, but she stumbles across the city’s notorious graffiti artist along the way. And now that she knows who the face behind the spray paint can is, she can’t seem to listen to her friends’ sage advice and follow the safe path, leaving well enough alone. She’s determined to coax Black Crimson into agreeing to an exclusive interview so she can become the famous newspaper journalist she’s always wanted to be. But in this contemporary twist to the Little Red Riding Hood fable, our red-headed heroine learns just how dangerous talking to strangers can be...to her heart. "

My mother-in-law’s final wish was simple—she wanted one last trip to Hawaii, to bask in the warmth of the sun before her time ran out. But her son, Vincent, didn’t see it that way. He thought I was manipulating her, using her as an excuse to drag him on a vacation he didn’t want. So, out of spite, he refused to grant her dying wish. I begged him. Pleaded. Swallowed my pride and all the hurt his accusations brought. After relentless persuasion, he finally relented. I thought, at last, I could give Lucy the happiness she deserved. But on the day we were set to leave, Vincent was nowhere to be found. And that same day, Lucy suffered a heart attack. She passed away with only me by her side—never getting to feel the warmth of the sun on her skin one last time. And then I saw it. A picture. Vincent, tagged at a luxury resort with his ex. The caption from her read: Thank you for abandoning your job to take me on this trip. You’re the best. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I didn’t even confront him. I just packed my bags and left. And this time? Vincent found out about the truth and begged me to stay.

On the company's designated monthly day off, Gigi Lott, Donald Hoover's secretary, posted an Instagram story. The caption read, "So what if you're the boss of me when we're at work during the day? At night, I'm the one on top!" In the photo, she was lying atop a water bed covered in rose petals, and the usually stern Donald was kneeling down to massage her feet for her. From his pocket hung a brand new golden necklace. Just that morning, I bought several gold bars and gave them to Donald while beseeching him to make our relationship public. He happily took the locket from me, but when I tried to take a photo of us with our phone, he smacked my phone out of my hands, smashing it into pieces. With a look of pure derision, he declared, "Why don't you take a good look at yourself in the mirror first? You really are a motherless wretch who wasn't raised right. Look at the lengths you'd go to just to ruin me!" Throughout the last five years, I had meekly gone along with his demand that we keep our relationship a secret, claiming it was because office romances were forbidden. But now, I was abruptly hit with the realization of how laughable it all was. The next day, I sent my father a message. "I admit defeat. I'm willing to come home and inherit the family business."

On her first day at work, a new colleague uploaded a 500-million-dollar property purchase agreement to the company group chat. The message was accompanied by the caption: “Thanks for the gift for my first day at work, Dad!” She quickly deleted it, following up with, “Sorry, wrong chat!” I frowned, recognizing the contract immediately. It was the same property my father gifted me for my birthday a month ago. Some sharp-eyed colleagues noticed the contract number and chimed in. “I have a relative in real estate. I remember this property. Our chairman bought it recently!” “So, the heiress has joined us to experience life. Forgive your humble servant for not recognizing you!” The chat was soon filled with flattering remarks. Even my stingy and miserly husband joined in. I felt a coldness in my heart and couldn’t help but respond in the group chat, “I recall the president always opposing ostentatious displays of wealth and advocating humility. This heiress seems to veer away from his usual philosophy.” Instead of support, I faced attacks from my husband and others. “Look at you being so poor and petty. How could you ever compare to Grace? Why did I ever marry someone so shortsighted?” “As if you know the president that well! I think you’re just jealous that Grace was born with a silver spoon!” I sneered coldly and, without hesitation, dialed the president’s number right in front of everyone. “Dad, I heard we’re not that close, hmm?”

26-years-old Stacy Cyrus is living her life in a very normal way: working in a small newspaper company; feeding her stray cat occasionally; indulging herself reading books; going to the nearest cafe for Strawberry cakes. Until one her best friend, Mikaela pleads with her to help in her job in a royal suite. All she needs to do is wear a nice dress, put on makeup and wait until Mikaela comes. But she hasn't signed up for a handsome, tall man to appear in the room in a tuxedo and demanding her to strip.

This Thanksgiving, Elmer Fuller finally agrees to go on a trip with me. But when I wake up in the hotel, I don't see him anywhere. I spend the entire day desperately searching for him, only to stumble across a social media post from his first love. It's a selfie of her and Elmer having a cozy family dinner with her parents. The caption reads, "Someone's finally meeting the parents on Thanksgiving night. Mom and Dad can stop pressuring me to get married now!" Around her neck is the scarf my mother knitted for me before she passed. I left a comment. "Stop using my things to flirt with my husband. Take the scarf off—you can have him." Not long after, she posts an update. The scarf is shredded into pieces and tossed into a dog bed, with the caption, "What trash—too filthy even for a dog!" Elmer likes the post.

On New Year's Eve, Facebook blew up. The reason was that Bennett Miles, the golden boy of Crestmoor’s elite, posted an update. In the photo, a shy young woman hid her face as she leaned against his shoulder while he grinned. His eyes were full of affection and mischief. His caption read, "What do I do? Looks like I'm officially taken." Friends in his circle flooded the comment section with congratulations. The real frenzy began when Bennett announced that the first 10,000 followers to like, share, and comment on the post would each receive a gold bar. The internet went wild with envy and curiosity. Everyone scrambled to find out more about the woman in the picture. Then, someone claiming to have inside information started a livestream. "Stop guessing. Her name is Kara Sierra. You know Sierra Hall at Crestmoor College? That building was named after her! "Two years ago, she had kidney failure. Bennett personally donated one of his own kidneys to save her!"