Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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My Fiancée's Double Life: I Chose to Disappear
My fiancée, Jocelyn, lost her memory in a skiing accident three months ago. At least, that's what she told me. She conveniently forgot all seven years of our life together, but no one else. I spent my life savings on neurologists, desperate to bring back the woman I loved. Then, one evening, I overheard her on a speakerphone call with her best friend. "It's just a summer fling to get it out of my system," she laughed. "Ethan's my endgame, but he's a little boring. He'll be waiting like a sad puppy when I'm done playing." My blood ran cold. The sleepless nights, the pain, the constant worry-it was all a joke to her. Her friend asked what she would do if I ever found out and tried to leave. Jocelyn's reply was chilling. "He's not going anywhere. He's mine. If he tried to leave, I'd find him and lock him up so he could never escape." I realized our entire history was a lie. I wasn't her partner; I was her property. A safe bet she could put on a shelf while she had her fun. My suffering wasn't a tragedy to her; it was the price of her entertainment. That night, I didn't cry. I booked a one-way ticket to the other side of the world. Then, I walked into the courthouse and filed a petition to legally change my name. She wanted to play a game? Fine. Let's play hide and seek./0/90615/coverorgin.jpg?v=02b930f60ed635fdc1f96046350f7978&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Unwanted, The Unstoppable
After ten years in the foster system, my family finally found me. I thought it was a dream come true, but I quickly learned my place. I was the workhorse who paid for my perfect twin sister Kristen's life, while she was the golden child they were proud of. The only good thing I had was my boyfriend, Jason. Then, at a party I was catering, I overheard my parents plotting with his. They were arranging for Jason to marry Kristen, saying I had too much baggage and was damaged goods. Minutes later, in front of everyone, Jason got down on one knee and proposed to my sister. As the crowd cheered, my phone buzzed with a text from him: "I'm sorry. It's over." When I confronted them at home, they admitted the truth. Finding me was a mistake. I was just an embarrassment they had to manage, and they had done me a favor by giving Jason to Kristen. To silence me, my sister threw herself down the stairs and screamed that I had pushed her. My father beat me and threw me onto the street like trash. As I lay bruised on the sidewalk, my parents told the arriving police I was a violent attacker. They wanted to erase me, but they were about to find out they had just started a war./0/85100/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106205701&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Ashes of Love, Flames of Justice
My phone buzzed on the counter of the vet clinic, a harsh sound, demanding my attention from a complicated case. It was Mark, my husband, sharp and impatient. "Chloe, drop whatever you' re doing. I need you." He needed his backup drive, for the biggest night of his career, a speech about 'sacrifice' and 'unwavering support', to impress his investors. I, his vet-tech wife, was racing home to fetch it, my knuckles white on the steering wheel. When I arrived, he was radiant on stage, spouting platitudes about family while I clutched the hard drive in the shadows, my stomach twisting. My phone vibrated: Dr. Reed, our son Leo' s specialist. "Chloe, the new treatment protocol is our best option, but we need to start immediately. The hospital requires a significant deposit." It was an unimaginable sum. I looked through the glass at Mark, laughing with investors, the hard drive forgotten. Leo and I were not in his world. In that moment, something inside me shifted. The long, slow burn of resentment ignited into cold, clear purpose. I wasn't going to wait for him. I wasn't going to ask him. I drove directly to sell my father' s classic Mustang – my most prized possession – for the cash. Returning home, a bright orange notice was slapped on our front door: NOTICE OF FORECLOSURE. My key wouldn' t work. My credit card was declined. I called Mark, his voice laced with fury. "Where the hell did you go? You embarrassed me, Chloe!" "The house, Mark," I whispered, trembling. "There' s a foreclosure notice. My keys don' t work." "I mortgaged it. Months ago. The startup needed a cash infusion," he sneered. "It' s gone, Chloe. My last-ditch funding failed because I was too damn distracted by all this drama with Leo. Your drama." Rain plastering my hair to my face, I sank to my knees. "We' re done," he said. "I told the bank to change the locks. You can get your things tomorrow." He hung up. Just then, Leo, pale and frail, opened the door. "Mommy? Why is Daddy yelling? Are we leaving our house?" His simple words cut through my shock. I pulled him close, whispering, "What if it was just you and me from now on? A new life. Would that be okay?" He nodded, trusting. That was all I needed./0/85749/coverorgin.jpg?v=9fae4c6ee770cb995c42c029ce96ff33&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Shadow, Her Betrayal, His Rise
The blinding white of the hospital ceiling. My ears registered the monotonous beep of a machine, my body a dull ache radiating from my chest, but my mind was replaying a lifetime. A lifetime I didn't swerve, didn't fight, a life where I gave everything for her, for Sarah Miller. I saw myself hollowed out, unfulfilled, alone, a footnote in her brilliant biography, my own child a ghost. Then the blinding clarity: this wasn't just a brush with death, it was a preview of the life I was about to lose myself in. My gaze drifted-Sarah, impeccable as always, on her phone, brow furrowed. And next to her, Alex, murmuring, his hand on her arm, a gesture far too familiar. They were a perfect, closed circuit. I was the outsider. A cold certainty settled in my chest, more real than the pain from my injuries: I would not let that life happen. My hands trembled, not from weakness, but from a newfound resolve. I called my boss. "Mike! I heard about the accident. Are you okay? Do you need anything?" "I'm okay, Mark," I said, my voice raspy. "But I'm calling to resign." "Resign? Mike, what are you talking about? You're our top young talent. We were just about to put you on the downtown high-rise project." "I don't want the high-rise," I said, with surprising strength. "I want the sustainable community project. The one in Oak Creek. I know it's a pay cut. I know it's in the middle of nowhere. I'll take it. I need to do it." A weight I hadn't realized I was carrying lifted from my shoulders. It felt incredible. This was my second chance. My life wasn't going to be a footnote in Sarah Miller's biography. It was going to be my own story. Starting now./1/118519/coverorgin.jpg?v=bca18f79f98dcd6ab255349131142b9d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
We Burnt His Empire Down Together
On my 30th birthday, I was expecting a proposal from Cameron, the man I'd loved for ten years.He' d booked the city' s most exclusive penthouse suite, promising a night that would change our lives forever. He was right. A frantic call from my best friend, Kennedy, revealed the truth: she was flying in to confront her cheating husband. His name was Cameron Roberts. In an instant, I became the unwitting other woman, the very thing I despised after my father' s affair led to my mother' s suicide. Then I discovered I was pregnant. When I tried to leave, he threatened to ruin my career and expose me. He told me I was nothing without him. But the truth was even sicker. He never loved me; I was just a stand-in for his dead first love, a ghost he was chasing while married to my best friend. So I aborted his child, joined forces with his wife, and together, we decided to burn his entire world to the ground./0/83803/coverorgin.jpg?v=fa818d480f833c7e78718955d53832a3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Day I Burned It All Down
My husband, Senator Harrison Vance III, was destined for the White House, and I, his adoring wife, was meant for the perfect political life. That illusion shattered in a sterile D.C. clinic when I saw him holding another woman' s swollen belly, listening as he orchestrated a forced miscarriage to protect his legacy. He drugged me himself, making sure I couldn't have children, and later, the mistress gloated, detailing their affair in my own home, confident I was being gracefully removed for his secret wedding. My own husband, a man I loved, systematically destroyed my body, my future, and my trust for an inheritance only his mistress's child could claim. So, I burnt every trace of my past, quietly packed a sealed box for his upcoming "business trip," and disappeared without a trace./0/80883/coverorgin.jpg?v=168e492e59cbfb9de1c7bf1c4c33bc18&imageMogr2/format/webp)
A Father's Unseen Battle
My 5-year-old son, Leo, watched helplessly as I slowly withered away from endless bone marrow donations. My wife, Victoria, dismissed my agonizing decline, blinded by her childhood flame Julian Vance's manufactured illness and charisma. Leo frantically pleaded for help, but Victoria, consumed by Julian, ignored his desperate cries, even after he reported me coughing up blood. Instead, she pushed him violently, leaving him injured and alone amidst Julian's cruel laughter. After my death, Leo tried to fulfill my last wish, only for Julian to mockingly destroy my favorite donuts and viciously slash my son’s lip, forcing him to call him "Father." My spirit, helpless, watched as Leo collapsed, unconscious and bleeding, onto my lifeless body, utterly abandoned. How could a mother be so utterly deaf to her child's pleas, so complicit in such monstrous cruelty? The injustice was a burning void, a father's agony witnessing his son's betrayal. Found near death, Leo was rushed to the hospital, where Julian later crept in to silence him with a pillow. But a spectral surge of pure, desperate paternal rage—my rage—slammed Julian away, alerting security and shattering the monstrous facade. The truth about his fake illness and vengeful plot would finally unravel, setting the stage for a dramatic reckoning and Leo’s long fight for justice and redemption./1/102297/coverorgin.jpg?v=44d29525e0fea1f93432ef922c92f05e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Woman He Almost Killed Lives
I spent three years as the perfect girlfriend to Silicon Valley's "Ice King," August Armstrong, only to overhear him call our entire relationship a "training exercise" to win back my estranged stepsister, Caroline. He used me, then cast me aside, framing me for attacking Caroline at their engagement party after she deliberately broke my late mother's necklace. August's men beat me half to death and left me in an abandoned warehouse. "You're just a problem to be solved," they sneered. Lying broken on the concrete floor, I found August's phone. A text from Caroline glowed on the screen: "They dealt with her. She won't bother us again. See you at the wedding, my love." They thought they had buried me, but they only planted a seed. At their wedding, as they stood at the altar, the giant screens behind them flickered to life. Instead of their smiling faces, the entire world saw a video of Caroline, perfectly healthy, laughing with another man in Europe, followed by security footage of her shoving me into the path of a crashing car./0/44221/coverorgin.jpg?v=20240227114735&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Her DARK World
[R18+, mature and sensitive content. A heart-wrenching tale of BEAUTY & the BEAST] In this World of Cruelty, I did something that kept me sane. I went against my family just to protect my sanity. I was a fighter. I was a survivor. But not anymore because this cruel world made me rotten. Now, I'm Cruel. I'm cold Hearted. I'm a Killer because I killed myself. I killed my own happiness. I ruined my own heart. My name is DUA and I'm nineteen years old student of Fashion Designer. And, my world is shattered by only four words. 'YOU ARE UNDER ARREST' Thank you ShineeSunshine ♥️/0/85102/coverorgin.jpg?v=ab2d67bad9f57b909e9fa9687303ba4c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Wife Who Destroyed Me
The cold concrete walls of the visitor' s room blurred. My wife, Sarah, sat opposite me, her eyes burning with contempt, dressed in a sharp business suit. "Ethan, that data-exfiltration device was clearly planted by you," her voice, a venomous echo, replayed. "You were just jealous of Alex and wanted him dead! I truly regret leaving Alex for a simpleton like you; you deserve to rot in prison for what you did to him!" That was the last time I saw her before the life sentence. Before everything went black. The betrayal was so fresh, it felt like it happened only a second ago. Alex Thornton, her charismatic tech mogul mentor, gifted her a sleek, black smart ring. As an FBI agent, I recognized it immediately: a sophisticated data-exfiltration device. I tried to warn her, even reported it to the Bureau, cushioning the blow to protect her, sacrificing my own promotion. It was a fatal mistake. Alex died in a suspicious car accident as the FBI closed in. My grieving, loving Sarah then wove a web of digital lies, leaking classified intel and manipulating logs, pointing every piece of evidence directly at me. The jealous, jilted husband. The perfect story. Then, a jarring, insistent beeping cut through the darkness of my prison cell memory. I gasped, my eyes flying open. I wasn' t in a cell. I was in my own bed. My alarm clock. 7:00 AM. My heart hammered. Sarah was still asleep. On her nightstand, gleaming, was the smart ring. It was today. The day it all began. A cold dread washed over me, followed by something hot and sharp: a second chance. The humiliation, the cold slap of betrayal, her mocking words. My colleagues' faces, pity mixed with confusion, as they cuffed me. I had sacrificed everything for a woman who saw me as a simpleton. The love I felt for her was now a black hole. In the quiet of the morning, with the woman who would destroy me sleeping peacefully beside me, I made a new vow. Not of love, or loyalty, but of self-preservation. And justice./0/85751/coverorgin.jpg?v=4e452a2bd3a4f93a3662377dd42f299a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Monster and His Mockery
The club's bass vibrated through Mark' s bones as he showered the squalling women with champagne. His wife, Sarah, lay miles away in a hospital bed, kept alive by tubes after a hit-and-run, the money from their house sale meant for her treatment now being thrown away on a lavish display. Suddenly, Sarah' s parents, the Smiths, stood before him, their faces etched with grief. They watched in horror as he publically humiliated them, throwing crumpled bills at his kneeling mother-in-law, even striking the woman on his lap. "You bastard. That' s her money! That' s the money for her treatment!" Mr. Smith roared, his face red with fury. Then, with chilling indifference, Mark told them Sarah was a vegetable and would die soon, revealing an "inoperable tumor." Mrs. Smith collapsed, bleeding from her mouth. The city exploded with outrage as videos of "MarkTheMonster" went viral, but he reveled in the hatred, driving straight to the hospital. There, Mr. Smith launched himself at Mark, screaming, "You killed her! Sarah is dead! And it' s your fault!" But when the doctor confirmed Sarah's death, Mark threw his head back and laughed, "Oh, thank God! I'm free!" He celebrated, declaring himself released from the burden of his wife, a woman who, in her dying breath, had recorded a message forgiving him and telling him to be happy. Then, in an unthinkable act, Mark pulled back the sheet from Sarah' s gurney and slapped her lifeless face, hissing, "You were more than a burden. You were a leech." The crowd erupted, consuming Mark in a storm of vigilante justice. As police intervened, Mark, battered but lucid, dropped a bombshell on Captain Miller. "How can I have killed a woman who isn' t actually dead?" he asked, pointing a bloody finger at the doctor. He accused Dr. Evans of fraud and attempted murder, revealing Sarah' s "injuries" were a minor concussion. He then pulled out Sarah' s real medical records and a recording implicating Mrs. Smith in funding the hit-and-run, claiming the Smiths had already conspired to kill his first wife, Ava. Just as the Smiths and Dr. Evans were cuffed, Sarah sat up, confirming the elaborate charade./0/89320/coverorgin.jpg?v=2311e0255263513d5cb6adc335d00ade&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Coma, Cruelty, and Caleb's Betrayal
After donating bone marrow to save my brother, a rare complication put me in a coma for five years. When I woke up, I found my family had replaced me. They had a new daughter, Hailie, a girl who looked just like me. They told me my jealousy over her caused a car crash that forced Hailie and my parents into hiding. To make me atone, my fiancé, Caleb, and my brother locked me in an isolated villa for three years. I was their prisoner, their slave, enduring their beatings because I believed my suffering was the price for my family's safety. Then, a doctor told me I had terminal lung cancer. My body was failing, but my tormentors decided on one last act of "kindness"-a surprise birthday trip to a luxury resort. There, I saw them all. My parents, my brother, my fiancé, and Hailie, alive and well, drinking champagne. I overheard their plan. My torture wasn't penance. It was a "lesson" to break me. My entire life had become a cruel joke. So, on my birthday, I walked to the highest bridge on the island, left behind my medical diagnosis and a recording of Hailie's confession, and jumped./0/99378/coverorgin.jpg?v=b7930e4a6e1bc0bbbb00438205482f9a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
When Love Turned To A Living Hell
I worked three jobs to support my paralyzed husband, Gavin, and our developmentally delayed son, Leo. Life was a relentless grind, but I held our shattered family together, even taking in Gavin's infertile, widowed sister, Celeste. Then, one day, I collapsed from exhaustion at a construction site. My son, Leo, ran to get help, only to be mauled to death by a pack of stray dogs. At a charity gala weeks later, Celeste, wearing a necklace Gavin once gave me, cornered me. She mocked Leo's death, then brutally kicked me in the stomach, causing internal bleeding that led to an emergency hysterectomy. I could never have children again. Gavin, however, believed Celeste's lies that I had attacked her. He threw a razor at my head, called me a monster, and left me bleeding on the floor. When I tried to leave our apartment with Leo's ashes, Gavin and Celeste accused me of cheating. In the struggle, they shattered the urn, scattering my son's remains across the floor. Gavin kicked the ashes, calling them "trash." But hidden inside Leo's teddy bear, I found a voice recorder. On it was a recording of Gavin and Celeste, their voices clear and strong. They had faked his paralysis, stolen his company's assets, and Celeste had even wished for Leo to be gone. The betrayal was so immense, I collapsed, coughing up blood, as my world went dark one last time./0/89321/coverorgin.jpg?v=4f9f59303cf8e1f3866f9decf07b1753&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Betrayal's Embrace: A Wife's Vengeance
The call came at dusk: my brother, Ezra, had been in a motorcycle accident. The doctor, his voice chillingly calm, said he needed immediate surgery. Then came the news that shattered my world: his leg was amputated. The surgeon, Dr. Kaitlin Russo, cited "complications," but I, an investigative blogger, smelled a lie. It wasn't a complication; it was a botched procedure. My exposé went viral, detailing her negligence. And then, it vanished—scrubbed from the internet. My husband, Hayden Bridges, a titan of Silicon Valley, was suddenly unreachable. My sister, Ivy, disappeared from her apartment, leaving behind nothing but a set of muddy footprints and a scent of fear. I found Kaitlin admiring a new diamond bracelet, a smirk playing on her lips. "Hayden takes very good care of me," she purred. The truth hit me like a physical blow. My husband wasn't just her powerful backer. He was her lover. He forced me to issue a public apology to Kaitlin, making me watch a live video feed of Ivy, terrified and weeping in a dark room. "She's safe," he promised, his voice cold as ice, "as long as you drop this." I had no choice. But my choice meant nothing. Ivy was tortured by Kaitlin's monstrous brother, Kyle, and died in my arms. Days later, Ezra was found dead in his hospital bed. In the desolate quiet of my grief, a new, cold purpose ignited within me. They had destroyed my family. I would burn his empire to the ground./1/102299/coverorgin.jpg?v=c6a510070907eafabfe40acd80af8c5b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
High Stakes Betrayal, A Winning Hand
My fiancé, Holden, married my best friend, Dominique, in Vegas. Tonight. Just hours before our lavish engagement party was set to begin. They announced it to our families and friends, calling it a "drunken mistake." Dominique, clinging to his arm, flashed a cheap ring and a triumphant smirk. She then proposed a high-stakes poker game to "celebrate," a cruel joke designed to humiliate me further. Holden, my fiancé of years, stood by her side. He even forced me to give up my grandmother's bracelet when I lost a hand, tossing the precious heirloom into a puddle of champagne. He told me it was just a game, that the bracelet meant nothing. But they didn't know my secret. I grew up in the underground poker scene. They thought they were playing with a fragile fiancée. They were about to lose everything to a shark./0/99379/coverorgin.jpg?v=f431b6a870473075e177134b68b509ce&imageMogr2/format/webp)
When Love Dies And Memories Fade
To save my grandmother, I married a man who hated me. He never knew I was the one who secretly saved his life with a bone marrow donation. And when my grandmother lay dying, he refused to pay for the surgery that would have saved her. He called it another one of my "dramas," laughing as my last hope died. But he didn't just kill my grandmother. He killed our child, too. I was secretly pregnant, part of a billion-dollar surrogacy deal to get the money for her care. When I begged him, showing him the ultrasound, his reply was cold. "Get rid of it." With my grandmother dead and my heart destroyed, I finally gave up. He would always believe the lies of his mistress-my sister-who had stolen the credit for saving him. So I terminated the pregnancy, signed the divorce papers, and paid a doctor to erase every memory of him. Now, he stands before me, a broken man begging for forgiveness, but I can only look into his tear-filled eyes and ask, "I'm sorry, who are you?"/0/83481/coverorgin.jpg?v=caa5dba692c9d39452b5398cc533ab51&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Widow's Vengeance: A Second Chance
The funeral was a grand affair, fitting for a hero. My husband, Michael, a decorated NYPD detective, was killed in the line of duty, they said. I stood by the open casket, three-year-old Leo clutching my hand, expected to be a shattered, grieving widow. But I felt absolutely nothing. Because the man in that casket wasn't Michael. It was his identical twin, Mark. And the man openly sobbing beside my mother-in-law, the one they called "Mark," was my husband, Michael. I knew this because I' d lived this nightmare once before. In my first life, I' d exposed his lie. His response? He had me committed, claiming my grief drove me mad. From a barred window, I watched him marry his high school sweetheart, Ashley. That night, he gave our son, Leo, 'sleeping medication.' A week later, Leo never woke up. The loss of everything-my child, my freedom, my entire life-was too much. I ended it, regretting only not calling my kind college friend, David. Then, I woke up. I was back, standing before the casket, Leo' s warm hand in mine. I remembered Michael' s chilling words to his mother: "Chloe is strong. She'll manage. I'll take Mark's place." He thought I' d quietly raise our son while he lived happily ever after. He was terribly wrong. This time, I wouldn't be strong for him. I would play his grieving widow. And I would burn his entire world to ashes./0/90619/coverorgin.jpg?v=19e891e6e799a98507976f1918dfdec3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Promise, Her Ruin
Tonight was supposed to be the greatest night of my career. I was the frontrunner for the Pinnacle Prize, the highest honor in architecture. But the award went to a complete unknown—my fiancé’s first love, the widow of his older brother. My fiancé, Kason, the man who was supposed to build my winning design, had given my life's work away to her. He said she needed it more. He then forced me to mentor her, letting her take credit for my projects. During a promotional shoot, he stood by and watched as she slapped me again and again under the guise of "getting the shot right." When I finally slapped her back, he had me fired and blacklisted from the entire industry. He didn't stop there. He pushed me to the ground in a hospital hallway, causing me to bleed, and then abandoned me. He did all this while I was carrying his child. Lying on that cold hospital floor, I made a decision. I took my unborn baby and disappeared. I flew to a new country, changed my name, and cut off all ties. For five years, we were ghosts./0/99380/coverorgin.jpg?v=8a55a0eaca5757078bfe363447dd6438&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Lie He Called Love
My fiancé, Jake, vanished a week before our wedding for a top-secret project. He promised to return in three years, and like a fool, I waited, believing our future was just on pause. But when my mother was dying, I discovered the truth. All his calls and his entire hazard pay stipend had been diverted to his childhood friend, Britney, for her "emotional support." After my mother' s death, I rebuilt my life and married a wonderful man. But a chance encounter at her grave turned violent. Jake shoved me, and I collapsed, bleeding, terrified I was losing the baby I was carrying. I begged him for help, but he and Britney just watched, callously betting on whether I was faking it. He was still staring as I bled out when a shadow fell over me. It was my husband, Davion Carpenter. The man who also happened to be Jake' s boss./0/85429/coverorgin.jpg?v=4e14bcfb864dcc2dbee986bdb98b1744&imageMogr2/format/webp)
