Social Intelligence Novels & Stories

On Christmas Eve, my six-year-old, Yule, was dying from cancer, and all he wanted was a gift from his dad dressed as Santa. I called Peter, my husband, begging him to come. His reply? "Can you stop blowing up my phone? I don't have time for this! I'm helping Tracey find Puffy. Do you know how upset she is?" Oh, Tracey. His first love. And Puffy? Her dog. I told him Yule might not make it through the night. His response? A straight-up dagger: "Don't act like this isn't your fault, Freya. If Yule hadn't kicked Puffy, none of this would've happened. Tomorrow, make sure he apologizes to Tracey." Then he hung up. That night, I sat with Yule, crying as I helped him celebrate his last Christmas. By morning, Peter's social medias were still full of posts about that freaking dog. Mine? Yule's obituary. Ten years of marriage, gone.

"Eighteen point eight centimeters," I said, pushing my oversized tortoiseshell glasses up the bridge of my nose. "According to your anatomical data, that is the estimated length of your private parts, Matteo. I can get results without entering a laboratory." The soaking wet, shirtless, and absolutely furious mafia boss standing before me was rendered utterly speechless for the first time in his life! Nova was a genius cybersecurity programmer who suffered from social anxiety, despised human touch, and perceived the world solely through mathematical formulas.Her only dream during her vacation in Crete was to lie down and sleep on the calm waters inside her pink strawberry inflatable tube. However, the sea surface currents had drafted a fatal algorithm for her. Drifted out into the open sea, Nova found herself aboard the luxury yacht of Matteo—a mafia boss notorious for his cruelty in international waters, possessing a V-taper physique that was illegally flawless. Was she to hold the hand of this ruthless man to avoid drowning, or become shark bait? This was exactly how one became the fake wife of a billionaire mafia leader!

In my tenth year of marriage, my old childhood friend, Joshua Sears, posts a photo on social media. Both Joshua and my wife, Sabrina Lawson, are hugging his son, Andy Sears, and my daughter, Tiana Jenkins, in it. The four of them look very close to each other. The caption accompanying the post says, "Blessed to have the perfect son and daughter." I leave a comment below the post, saying, "Looking good together." A few seconds later, the post is deleted. The next morning, Sabrina rushes home and yells at me. "Ashton Jenkins! Joshua was finally feeling better for once. Why did you have to trigger him again?" Tiana shoves me hard and snaps in an accusatory tone, "It's all your fault that Andy's crying now!" I take out a copy of the divorce agreement and slam it down before them. "Yes, it's all my fault. That's why I'm stepping out of the picture now. Then, the four of you can form the wholesome family you've always wanted."

All along, I've been following a social media account that's dedicated to a couple sharing about their romance. It doesn't have a lot of followers, but the posts are all very heartwarming. The owner of the account records all the little details about his relationship with his girlfriend. They get into arguments over a plate of pasta before breaking into laughter and calling each other an overgrown child. They climb up the hill to hold each other under the sky full of stars, wishing they could make time pause at that very moment. Even though the owner of the account never reveals his face, I am always moved by the words he writes. The day before my wedding, the owner uploads a new post. "This marks the end of our ten-year relationship. From now on, she'll be his wife, and I'll only be his friend. There won't be any more updates to this account. I wish nothing but the best for my best friend and the woman he loves the most." The picture uploaded with this caption is one of my fiancee and me, taken from behind.

My sister had struggled with severe depression for years, and the only thing that seemed to ease her pain was her dog, Toto, who had become her constant companion. But when her illness flared up again, Toto was nowhere to be found. Then, my husband, Lionel Cress's childhood sweetheart posted a picture of Toto on social media. [With her, it feels like you're here with me.] I lost it. I called Lionel in a frenzy, but despite being my sister's psychologist, he was completely indifferent. "Your sister has been sick for so long. How could she suddenly relapse just because Toto's gone for a few days?" When I rushed back home, I found my sister in the bathroom, her wrists cut. Later, Toto's body was discovered outside our building, with Lionel's gift to his childhood sweetheart—a ring—lying next to her. I buried both my sister and Toto, and left behind nothing but a divorce agreement. Lionel went crazy, desperately trying to find me.

My husband's childhood friend says she wants her crystal beads to soak up some of the good luck in our home. Because of that, he scatters the beads on the floor, making me slip and miscarry. I'm in agony as I lie on the operating table. I call my husband incessantly, but all he does is block my number. I lie in the hospital ward after the operation. I see my husband's childhood friend's social media update—a photo of him worshipfully holding out a certificate while getting down on one knee. It's captioned, "He loves me so much! I said I'm interested in running a business and he actually set up a company for me!" On the day of the branch company's grand opening, my husband's childhood friend wears an expensive custom-made gown. Meanwhile, I wear her discarded goods. I'm barred from even entering the building. I suppress my bitterness and call my lawyer. "Are the divorce procedures done?"

Caspian Henderson has been rigid and restrained throughout his six-year marriage to Juliet Bennett, and their life together feels dull and uneventful. Even their nights together feel like a chore with a set time. He arrives on the dot, does what he came for, and leaves. Everyone in their social circle believes he's the kind of man who will never bend for any woman. That was true until a month ago, when he returned with an orphaned girl who claims to have saved his life. Her name is Willow Everly. She's cold and unapproachable—the polar opposite of Juliet, who has been doted on all her life. Juliet's girlfriends attempt to warn her. "That young woman looks like a handful. You'd better keep an eye on your husband." Juliet beams. "Don't worry. Caspian doesn't even waver when I tease him. There's no way he'd be interested in that delicate little thing." Yet in just a few days, she finds out just how wrong she is.

On my fifth birthday with Zachary Murdock, I sit once again in front of a full table of cold food, just like every year before. Zachary had promised, as always, to spend the day with me. And, as always, he breaks that promise. This year, it's because his childhood sweetheart wanted to shoot a set of "artistic photos". She invited him and a few of his close buddies to be part of it. Without hesitation, he ditches me again and runs straight into her arms. At 11:00 pm, his childhood sweetheart posts a photo to her social media and sets it so that only I can see it. In the picture, four men are in nothing but black briefs and Windsor-knotted ties. They kneel around her while she is draped in sheer fabric like a goddess. The caption reads, "Some people beg for crumbs, but I own the entire bakery." I take a screenshot. Then, I send it to the girlfriends of all three of Zachary’s best buddies. If they all look down on me this much, let's hope they don't end up on their knees begging me someday.

On our wedding anniversary, I ask my husband, Luke Blackburn, to buy me some fish stew. Since I'm in my first trimester, I keep vomiting every now and then due to morning sickness. Right now, I have an intense craving for fish stew. But Luke comes home empty-handed in the middle of the night. He claims that he's completely forgotten about my request. I don't say anything at all. All I notice is a strand of long hair sticking to Luke's collar that doesn't belong to me. Some time later, I see the fish stew I never got to eat in a photo that Luke's colleague, Ruby Pollard, has uploaded to her social media feed. The caption reads, "Luke ordered this dish for me. He knows that I love fish stew from this particular restaurant the most. I'm so touched by his gesture!" In the photo, I see a pair of familiar hands picking out fish bones from the meat tenderly just for Ruby.

Freya was auctioned for sale as a bargain for her father's debt to the Dago social club. A place where big men of the society gather to bet, get high on drugs, enjoy life to the fullest and made away with any available whore. Her life crashed when she was bought by a ruthless man with no emotions and pity for anybody. They call him 'Master Hell' as he is feared by many, controls lots of empires and sends many people who disobey him, to hell. Freya was tortured, brutalized and used as an object to satisfy his urges in the most horrible way. Her world turned in when she found out she was pregnant. Unable to find herself bearing the child of the man who had leveled all sorts of hatred towards her, she plans to escape and fight for her life and that of her unborn child. Will she succeed in escaping from the man who has the world at his command? Author's guide: This is a dark bully romance, very dark that blood will spill, unexpected rape scenes and brutality. Kindly seek for cover if you're going to read it.