Expectation Memes Novels & Stories

Above it, a caption: “When you marry a CEO but still get treated like the valet.” A second meme followed moments later. This one had Eleanor’s face mid-sentence, with: “The real boss showed up. Grandma with the Glock.” Julian stared at it for a moment. Then silenced the phone and slid it into the drawer beside his watch. By midmorning, Sophie strolled into his study holding a tablet and two croissants. “You’re trending,” she said, dropping the pastries onto his desk. “And before you ask, yes—most of it’s satire. Some’s nasty. But some of it’s… weirdly affectionate?”

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Memes mocking Marian's greed and ineptitude sprouted like poisonous mushrooms. Conspiracy theories blossomed, weaving tangled webs of speculation about Blake's motivations and Eva's alleged innocence. News outlets, hungry for clicks, pounced on the story, dissecting every word with a bloodthirsty fervor - Hashtag #TorresGroupScandal became a war cry, rallying both sympathizers and opportunists. The once-respected company logo became a distorted symbol of family dysfunction and corporate corruption. The internet, once a vast sea of information, transformed into a churning vortex of outrage and speculation, swallowing the truth whole in its relentless tide.

This is a perfect example. Their messages don't have anything too eventful. It's just full of memes and asking if anyone wants to get food. I smile at their message and laugh at some of the memes shared among the group. I move on to Kyler and Eth's separate conversation, and it does a complete flip. These messages are full of business-related content. Eth has about ten missed calls and messages from Frailey, but none of them seem too urgent. I go back and look for anything else that catches my eye.

Just stared at the table, his jaw working, his hands gripping the edge hard enough that his knuckles went white. One of the staffers approached cautiously. “Sir, we’ve got another problem.” Alfred looked up. “What now?” “Social media. The memes. They’re spreading faster than we can report them. People are making jokes. Turning you into a punchline.” “Show me.” The staffer handed over a tablet. Alfred scrolled through it, his face darkening with every swipe. Images of him photoshopped into ridiculous scenarios. Captions mocking him. Videos set to music. Clips from his speeches edited together with the photos to make him look like a hypocrite.

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The moment the message was sent, the group chat exploded. “Long live the boss!” “Oh my god, the Azure Haven Islands! I’ve dreamed of going there!” “Ten thousand per person? What kind of dream company is this?” “Mr. Shaw, you’re the best!” I stared at the flood of emojis and praise without any expression. The same people who had just called me “corrupt” and accused me of “money laundering” in the break room were now spamming the chat with thank-you memes.

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" I ignored him. Group chat. 'Same time next week.' I wanted to ignore that one, but I put a thumbs up emoji. I couldn't risk them releasing the video before my finals. My whole junior year would be a waste if that happened. Fu8ck them. I would give them no emotion. They would get nothing from me except what I decided to give them. If I had to have meaningless se8x to get through this, I would. But fu8ck them both. ----- ----- -----

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