Cry Out Loud
8 Published Stories
Cry Out Loud's Books and Stories
The Robot Wife He Never Knew
Modern Before I died, I used my life's work in robotics to build a bionic replica of myself for my husband.
She had my exact face and body, but none of my temper. She never threw tantrums, never picked fights, and never raised her voice.
Yet my husband, Ethan, had no idea she was actually a machine.
He despised "my" newly submissive and obedient attitude. To provoke me, he constantly brought women home, desperately trying to drive me mad with jealousy. But he never succeeded.
Until one day, his first love—the one who had once walked out on him—threw a cup of scalding coffee right in "my" face.
To Ethan's astonishment, not only did I not scream in pain, but my skin didn't even turn red.
He finally realized that I was already dead. The Omega He Rejected Is The White Wolf Queen
Werewolf My father, the Alpha Supreme, sealed my powers and sent me to the Turner Pack as a test. He wanted to see if my Fated Mate, Ignatz, would love the girl, not the Royal title.
Ignatz failed. For five years, I was his slave, the "No-Wolf" he kept around to clean up after his mistress.
When I discovered I was pregnant with his child, I thought he might finally show mercy. Instead, he looked at me with pure disgust.
"I will not have a weak, wolfless bastard tainting my bloodline," he roared.
"Get rid of it."
I begged. I screamed. But his mother and mistress watched with glee as the doctor scraped my womb clean, killing the only thing I had left.
Hours later, bleeding and hollowed out, I was dragged onto the floor of the pack's banquet hall. Ignatz stood on the stage, holding his mistress's hand.
"I, Ignatz Turner, reject you, Genevieve, as my mate," he announced, treating me like garbage to be discarded.
He thought he was breaking a weak human. He didn't realize he was unlocking a monster.
The pain of the rejection didn't kill me; it shattered the seal on my powers. The scent of ozone and Royal Lilies exploded through the room, bringing every wolf to their knees.
My bones cracked, reshuffling into the massive form of the legendary White Wolf.
As my father’s Royal Guards blew the doors off their hinges, I looked down at Ignatz, who was now trembling in the dirt.
"I accept your rejection," I growled.
Now, the hunt begins. Deafened By His Hateful Words
Modern For eight years, I gave up my family fortune and my hearing to help my boyfriend, Emiliano Reed, become a rock star. I was his muse, his guardian angel, the silent partner in his success.
Then, a miracle happened: my hearing returned. Just in time to catch him with a college student, and hear him call me a "burden" and a "charity case."
The betrayal didn't end there. When his new girl wrecked the vintage car my late father gave me, I confronted her at the police station. Emiliano rushed in, not to defend me, but to protect her. He shoved me so hard I hit the floor, and the world went silent again. My hearing was gone, for a second time, because of him.
"Are you deaf?" he roared at me, furious that I wouldn't just forgive him. "I gave you everything! It was exhausting, suffocating!"
I looked at the man I had sacrificed everything for, the man who had just destroyed me all over again. He had no idea I'd heard every single, hateful word.
"No, Emiliano," I said, my voice clear and steady. "The question is, are you deaf? Or are you just a coward?" When A Business Marriage Implodes
Billionaires The picture on my phone was a punch to the gut.
It showed my husband, Julian Vance, the cold, untouchable tech CEO, smiling genuinely at a young woman I' d never seen before, his hand resting on her shoulder.
This wasn't his public, polished smile for the cameras. It was something real, something he hadn' t directed at me in years.
My seemingly stable world tilted on its axis, unraveling years of accepted emotional distance.
"Lily Chen. Struggling artist," the private investigator' s text read below the photo.
I knew our five-year marriage was a business arrangement, but I thought Julian was emotionally detached from everyone.
I thought wrong.
That night, at the annual Vance Technologies gala, I confronted him.
His eyes, usually unreadable, flickered with annoyance before settling into their practiced mask.
"Our marriage is a business arrangement, Scarlett. You knew that when you signed the papers."
He handed me a divorce settlement, already drafted.
"I want her. I will not have you in the way."
I crumpled the paper.
"And if I refuse?"
A chilling ruthlessness crossed his face, not meant for a business rival, but for me.
"Don' t make this difficult, Scarlett. You will lose."
The next week was a nightmare as he systematically dismantled my family' s company, Hayes AI.
Our top engineers were poached, contracts sabotaged, stock plummeting.
The final blow came when Julian called, his voice emotionless.
"I have your parents, Scarlett. They are safe, for now. Sign the papers. You have one hour."
He sent a live video feed: my parents, tied to chairs, terrified.
I drove frantically to his office, ready to sign.
But as my pen touched the paper, Julian spoke one word into his earpiece.
"Now."
On screen, two masked men entered, brutally ending my parents' lives.
The world went black.
Then, I gasped, eyes flying open.
I was in my bed. Sunlight streamed in. My phone buzzed.
It was a notification from my PI.
A photo had just arrived: Julian and Lily in her studio.
It was the same day. The day it all started.
I was back. A Husband's Betrayal, A Wife's Rebirth
Romance The two pink lines on the test stick perfectly embodied five years of quiet hopes and hushed prayers-a dream finally coming true.
But that dream shattered when I overheard my husband David, in his study, confessing that she could "never find out," followed by his best friend Liam's horrified reply: "Five years. You' ve been living a double life for five years."
Rebecca. The name of the struggling artist my family' s charity had sponsored, the woman David always dismissed with pity, was not only his wife but the mother of his son and heir, Thomas.
Not only had my entire marriage been a lie, a performance for his "sweet, trusting" mistress, but I was also carrying the child of a man who secretly plotted: "She can never, ever get pregnant."
He had been replacing my birth control pills with placebos for years, orchestrating my pain and feelings of failure, all to protect a life I never knew existed.
The final insult came on my birthday, when the Astor sapphire necklace David had "promised" me appeared on Rebecca' s neck, a cruel trophy.
And then, she introduced herself: "Thank you… brother-in-law."
Something inside me snapped. He thought I was easy. He wanted me to disappear.
Fine. I would disappear.
I called an old contact, my voice steady, saying: "I need your help. I need to fake my death." My Nobody Husband, The President's Brother
Romance I opened my eyes, and the familiar gilded ceiling of my childhood bedroom swam into view. I was twenty-two again, on the day of the "Future Leaders" charity gala. This was it.
But this wasn't a fresh start; it was a horrifying replay. Because in my first life, this very day marked the beginning of my agonizing descent into hell. All thanks to Ethan Hayes.
He hated me, blaming me for losing his "true love," Izzy Vance. He systematically destroyed my family, ruined my esteemed father's career, and wiped out everything I held dear. My family's assets were frozen, our reputation shattered. My father, broken by shame, suffered a stroke. I was condemned to a miserable, impoverished existence, ostracized, until I died alone.
I had been a naive girl, a pawn in a cruel political game I never understood. His vindictive revenge was suffocating, impossible to fight. Now, reborn, the terror of that past clawed at my chest, alongside an unyielding, burning resolve.
This time, I wouldn't be his victim. I would save my family at any cost. My desperate plan: fade into obscurity, avoid any powerful connections, and use an unassuming stranger as my strategic shield. What I didn't know was that my chosen "nobody" would shatter all expectations, revealing a destiny more shocking and powerful than revenge itself. No More Chains: The Wife's Escape
Romance My tenth wedding anniversary gala at our lavish Napa Valley estate should have been a dream, but for ten years I’d lived a gilded nightmare crafted by Julian Thorne.
Tonight, my tech mogul husband took his public humiliation ritual to new depths, introducing his barely-out-of-her-teens mistress on stage, then demanding I strip my designer gown and a priceless family heirloom necklace to give to her as a "welcome gift."
When I finally uttered "divorce," he scoffed, offering a multi-million-dollar "severance package" but coldly emphasized that my ailing father's costly medical care depended entirely on his whims, turning my raw pain into a grotesque public spectacle for the guests to bet on.
That very night, fueled by rage, Julian trapped me in the wine cellar, convinced I'd never truly walk away, as my mother lay dying from a car accident I couldn't reach her from, leaving me to beat bloody fists against the locked door.
Reaching the hospital too late, and later enduring a final, devastating blow as Julian’s mistress orchestrated my father’s quiet death with his chilling disregard, left me utterly shattered, yet terrifyingly, undeniably, free from his last cruel hold.
With every lifeline severed, and nothing left for Julian to control or threaten, the broken woman he thought he owned finally died, and a new, formidable force awoke, ready to unleash a vengeance he never saw coming, starting now. You might like
No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return
Xiao Xiaosu I went to the City Clerk’s office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk’s pitying look told me my entire life was a lie.
"The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single."
The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate.
Gray’s text to her was the final blow:
"Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we’re done with the charade."
I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray’s life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance.
How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury.
I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street."
"I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray."
If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world. Seven Years A Fool, One Day A Queen
Stella Montgomery Everyone knew Kristine loved Colton. Still, his heart clung to a woman overseas-someone he spent most days with, now pregnant with his baby-and Kristine still asked him to marry her.
On their registration day, however, he never came; his "true love" had flown back.
Seven years of loyalty later, Kristine walked away, blocked him, and left his city.
Colton didn't blink-until he saw her at the courthouse, arm-in-arm with another man, and the proud CEO went pale. He went after her, desperation overtaking him.
"I'm sorry. Please give me another chance."
She snapped, "Could you stop? I'm already married." Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance
Roderic Penn I stood at my mother’s open grave in the freezing rain, my heels sinking into the mud. The space beside me was empty. My husband, Hilliard Holloway, had promised to cherish me in bad times, but apparently, burying my mother didn't fit into his busy schedule.
While the priest’s voice droned on, a news alert lit up my phone. It was a livestream of the Metropolitan Charity Gala. There was Hilliard, looking impeccable in a custom tuxedo, with his ex-girlfriend Charla English draped over his arm. The headline read: "Holloway & English: A Power Couple Reunited?"
When he finally returned to our penthouse at 2 AM, he didn't come alone—he brought Charla with him. He claimed she’d had a "medical emergency" at the gala and couldn't be left alone. I found a Tiffany diamond necklace on our coffee table meant for her birthday, and a smudge of her signature red lipstick on his collar. When I confronted him, he simply told me to stop being "hysterical" and "acting like a child."
He had no idea I was seven months pregnant with his child. He thought so little of my grief that he didn't even bother to craft a convincing lie, laughing with his mistress in our home while I sat in the dark with a shattered heart and a secret life growing inside me.
"He doesn't deserve us," I whispered to the darkness. I didn't scream or beg. I simply left a folder on his desk containing signed divorce papers and a forged medical report for a terminated pregnancy. I disappeared into the night, letting him believe he had successfully killed his own legacy through his neglect.
Five years later, Hilliard walked into "The Vault," the city's most exclusive underground auction, looking for a broker to manage his estate. He didn't recognize me behind my Venetian mask, but he couldn't ignore the neon pink graffiti on his armored Maybach that read "DEADBEAT." He had no clue that the three brilliant triplets currently hacking his security system were the very children he thought had been erased years ago. This time, I wasn't just a wife in the way; I was the one holding all the cards. The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback
Huo Wuer Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband's Maybach usually idled was empty.
When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn't find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn.
Caden didn't even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father's legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn's party without a second glance.
Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara's health and managing every detail of Caden's empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room.
How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice.
I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I'd drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause-if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for.
I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I'd forgotten. The Humble Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon
Flory Corkery For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted.
Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke.
Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph.
Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!"
With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off."
A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!" Marrying Her Was Easy, Losing Her Was Hell
Michael Tretter "Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress.
With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap.
Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell.
On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered.
When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling." The Scars She Hid From The World
REGINA MCBRIDE The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab."
My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle.
When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine.
They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber.
I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone.
At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on. The Convict Heiress: Marrying The Billionaire
Rollins Laman The heavy thud of the release stamp was the only goodbye I got from the warden after five years in federal prison. I stepped out into the blinding sun, expecting the same flash of paparazzi bulbs that had seen me dragged away in handcuffs, but there was only a single black limousine idling on the shoulder of the road.
Inside sat my mother and sister, clutching champagne and looking at my frayed coat with pure disgust. They didn't offer a welcome home; instead, they tossed a thick legal document onto the table and told me I was dead to the city.
"Gavin and I are getting engaged," my sister Mia sneered, flicking a credit card at me like I was a stray dog. "He doesn't need a convict ex-fiancée hanging around."
Even after I saved their lives from an armed kidnapping attempt by ramming the attackers off the road, they rewarded me by leaving me stranded in the dirt. When I finally ran into Gavin, the man who had framed me, he pinned me against a wall and threatened to send me back to a cell if I ever dared to show my face at their wedding.
They had stolen my biotech research, ruined my name, and let me rot for half a decade while they lived off my brilliance. They thought they had broken me, leaving me with nothing but an expired chapstick and a few old photos in a plastic bag.
What they didn't know was that I had spent those five years becoming "Dr. X," a shadow consultant with five hundred million dollars in crypto and a secret that would bring the city to its knees. I wasn't just a victim anymore; I was a weapon, and I was pregnant with the heir they thought they had erased.
I walked into the Melton estate and made an offer to the most powerful man in New York.
"I'll save your grandfather's life," I told Horatio Melton, staring him down.
"But the price is your last name. I'm taking back what's mine, and I'm starting with the man who thinks he's marrying my sister." Beneath His Ugly Wife's Mask: Her Revenge Was Her Brilliance
Lukas Difabio Elliana, the unfavored "ugly duckling" of her family, was humiliated by her stepsister, Paige, who everyone admired. Paige, engaged to the CEO Cole, was the perfect woman-until Cole married Elliana on the day of the wedding. Shocked, everyone wondered why he chose the "ugly" woman.
As they waited for her to be cast aside, Elliana stunned everyone by revealing her true identity: a miracle healer, financial mogul, appraisal prodigy, and AI genius.
When her mistreatment became known, Cole revealed Elliana's stunning, makeup-free photo, sending shockwaves through the media. "My wife doesn't need anyone's approval." 
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