icon 0
icon TOP UP
rightIcon
icon Reading History
rightIcon
icon Sign out
rightIcon
icon Get the APP
rightIcon
closeIcon

Claim Your Bonus at the APP

Open

Modern Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
The Mute Heiress: My Ruthless Husband's Prize

The Mute Heiress: My Ruthless Husband's Prize

I woke up in a hospital bed with the sting of antiseptic in my nose and my body feeling like lead. My world had been turned upside down by a crash, but the nightmare was only beginning. Instead of a doctor, I found my Aunt Ursula and a man named Julian standing over me. They weren't there to comfort me; they were calculating my worth. "Poor thing," Ursula cooed, pinning my wrist to the mattress. Julian claimed he was my fiancé, even though I’d spent a year dodging his calls. I tried to scream, but my throat felt like it was filled with broken glass. They were using my silence to paint me as incompetent so they could seize my family’s trust fund. Just as Julian tried to force a ring on my finger, the door slammed open. Hilliard Blackburn, the city’s most ruthless billionaire, walked in and tossed a marriage certificate on the floor. "I am her legal husband," he said. "Now, get out." I was a piece of collateral, traded by my dying grandfather to pay off a debt. To Hilliard, I was just an asset in his portfolio. He didn't know that I was secretly "The Analyst," a hacker who moved millions on the dark web. He didn't know about the missing algorithm that could crash the market, or that my mentor had vanished in a lab fire. The world saw a broken, mute heiress, but I was hiding a secret that could destroy us all. I was pregnant, and my stolen code was already being auctioned to the highest bidder. With Hilliard moving into my house to monitor me, I had to find the truth before my "husband" realized I was his greatest threat.
The $300 Husband Is A Zillionaire

The $300 Husband Is A Zillionaire

I woke up in a blindingly white hotel penthouse with a throbbing headache and the taste of betrayal in my mouth. The last thing I remembered was my stepsister, Cathie, handing me a flute of champagne at the charity gala with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Now, a tall, dangerously handsome man walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his hips. On the nightstand sat a stack of hundred-dollar bills. My stepmother had finally done it-she drugged me and staged a scandal with a hired escort to destroy my reputation and my future. "Aisha! Is it true you spent the night with a gigolo?" The shouts of a dozen reporters echoed through the heavy oak door as camera flashes exploded through the peephole. My phone lit up with messages showing my bank accounts were already frozen. My father was invoking the 'morality clause' in my mother's trust fund, and my fiancé had already released a statement dumping me to marry my stepsister instead. I was trapped, penniless, and being hunted by the press for a scandal I hadn't even participated in. My own family had sold me out for a payday, and the man standing in front of me was the only witness who could prove I was innocent-or finish me off for good. I didn't have time to cry. According to the fine print of the trust, I had thirty days to prove my "rehabilitation" through a legal marriage or I would lose everything. I tracked the man down to a coffee shop the next morning, watching him take a thick envelope of cash from a wealthy older woman. I sat across from him and slid a napkin with a $50,000 figure written on it. "I need a husband. Legal, paper-signed, and convincing." He looked at the number, then at me, a slow, crooked smile spreading across his face. I thought I was hiring a desperate gigolo to save my inheritance. I had no idea I was actually proposing to Dominic Fields, the reclusive billionaire shark who was currently planning a hostile takeover of my father's entire empire.
Her Husband's Legacy: A Widow's Justice

Her Husband's Legacy: A Widow's Justice

Maria Rodriguez, a Marine widow, lived a quiet life, scrubbing floors to support her artistic teenage daughter, Sofia. Every penny, every sacrifice, was for Sofia. But in a town run by the wealthy, Sofia's very existence was a target, constantly shadowed by Maria's quiet fear. Then the phone call came from Mercy Hospital, tearing Maria's world apart. Sofia had been brutally beaten, her face a pulped mask, bandages covering half her small body. Through choked sobs, Sofia whispered the name that confirmed Maria's deepest dread: "Chad Henderson." Chad's father, Mr. Henderson—the man who "owned this town" with his private security force—showed up at the hospital, not with apologies, but with a sneer and a check, trying to buy Maria's silence. He dismissed Sofia's assault as "boys will be boys," his cronies, including the town's police chief, enabling him. Sofia, terrified, begged Maria to "just let it go." But it was too late. Sofia died days later, her vibrant spirit extinguished. The world tried to erase Sofia's murder. The police called it an "accident," Henderson's lawyer offered more blood money, even suggesting "other children." Maria's pleas for justice were met with shrugs, scorn, and terrifying intimidation by Henderson's goons. Miguel, her hero Marine, had died for his country, yet his widow and daughter were denied the most basic justice in their own backyard. The silence was deafening, the injustice infuriating. But as Maria clutched Miguel's Navy Cross and Sofia's innocent photo, a desperate, terrifying resolve hardened within her. Memorial Day was next week, a public event where Henderson would undoubtedly be polishing his image. This time, Maria wouldn't just clean floors. She would expose the truth, even if it meant shattering her last fragile peace.
His Abuse, Her Awakening

His Abuse, Her Awakening

My father placed the bank card on the table, calling me the "most capable" in the family, entrusting me with their retirement. I knew it wasn't trust; it was a trap, a way to access my money through guilt. My brother, Liam, smirked, reinforcing their expectation that my success was a family resource – primarily for him. The peace shattered less than a week later when Liam demanded $50,000 for another failed business venture. When I refused, citing his past failures, he escalated, claiming I was hoarding family money. My parents, instead of defending me, sided with him, pressuring me to give in. The climax arrived when Liam physically assaulted me in my apartment, and my own father destroyed my phone to cover it up, blaming me for the outburst. How could my family side with my abuser, enabling his irresponsibility while erasing evidence of his violence? The injustice ignited a cold rage, burning away years of fear and restraint. I grabbed the largest kitchen knife I owned, and with a voice shaking with fury, screamed, "Get out of my house!" The next day, they launched a public smear campaign at my office, accusing me of stealing and being a heartless monster. But I was done being their victim; I was ready to fight back. I challenged them to a live stream, promising to expose every financial transaction and reveal the police report for assault. The game had changed, and I was about to unleash a truth they never expected.
Unexpected Husband, Unexpected Freedom Won

Unexpected Husband, Unexpected Freedom Won

The green blur of the NYSE ticker board was moments from displaying NexusAI, the culmination of my life' s work. But then, Richard Sterling, my notorious former mentor, appeared, demanding I put his scandalous son, Julian, on my board, or he' d tank my IPO. This was the ninth time; a product launch, a funding round, all held hostage at the last critical second, his network ready to poison the well. He left me stranded, just as a tech gossip headline flashed: "My favorite tech genius is about to get married to her project. So heartbroken!" Liam, my rival and the source of the quote, was my last resort. Fifteen minutes and a frantic blur of rerouted documents later, the bell rang, and 'NexusAI' flashed on the board-with Liam as my new, impromptu partner. We barely made it, securing my freedom from Richard's tyrannical grasp, or so I thought. Later, in his car, Richard attempted to reassert control, offering me exclusive gifts as a transactional "peace offering," a ritual I knew far too well. Then came the sinister news: Julian' s fiancée, Isabella, needed a blood transfusion, and Richard insisted her rare blood type matched mine, demanding I donate. He even offered me his hand in marriage, a grotesque bribe, to control me once more. When I refused, he sent burly security guards to forcibly drag me to the hospital' s donation room, intending to drain me literally and figuratively. Just as the needle hovered over my vein, the door burst open. Liam, pure fury in his eyes, stormed in, having heard my desperate screams from his pocket-dialed phone. "Get your hands off my wife," he snarled, revealing our secret marriage and pulling out the marriage certificate. Richard' s face crumpled, the truth unraveling everything he thought he controlled. As I gathered my last belongings from the apartment Richard had given Isabella, I found a diamond earring and a repair receipt in my desk. The receipt was in Richard's name, confirming a horrifying truth: the baby Isabella was carrying was Richard' s, not Julian' s. The fortress Richard built was not for protection, but to hide a monstrous secret. I walked away from the crumbling empire, leaving Richard and Julian in its ruins. Now, with Liam by my side, I' m building something truly mine, a future where freedom and partnership are the only assets I' ll ever need.
His Betrayal, My Unborn Child

His Betrayal, My Unborn Child

The sterile white of the hospital waiting room was a grim backdrop to my sister Jessica' s desperate pleas; her son, Ethan, was dying, and my eight-year-old Lily was the only match for a kidney. I refused, unwilling to risk my daughter' s life, but my husband Mark, seemingly my protector, assured me he' d handle it, his words a comforting balm. The next day, Lily vanished from our secure backyard as if swallowed by thin air, plunging me into a suffocating panic that clawed at my chest. Mark, my supposed rock, mobilized his endless resources, fueling our desperate search with promises of justice. Days blurred into weeks of relentless searching, handing out flyers with Lily' s smiling face, each call a jolt of terrifying, empty hope, until the unspeakable happened: her small, broken body was found in a waste pit on the city' s outskirts. My world imploded, a black hole of grief and confusion, magnified by Mark' s seemingly shared devastation and vows to find the monster responsible, leaving me broken, wondering how such evil could touch our perfect lives. But the monster was closer than I imagined; five months pregnant with our "new hope," I stumbled upon a donor consent form for Lily' s kidney, signed by Mark the day before her disappearance, revealing a chilling truth: my husband orchestrated her death, and my unborn child was merely a spare part in his twisted scheme, igniting a cold fury that would fuel my terrifying path to justice.