Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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My Guardian's Fall, My Empire Rises
For ten years, I secretly loved my guardian, Ethan Hayes. After my family fell apart, he took me in and raised me. He was my entire world. On my eighteenth birthday, I gathered all my courage to confess my love to him. But his reaction was a fury I had never seen before. He swept my birthday cake to the floor and roared, "Are you insane? I am your GUARDIAN!" He then mercilessly tore the painting I had spent a year on-my confession-to shreds. Just days later, he brought home his fiancée, Chloe. The man who had promised to wait for me to grow up, who called me his brightest star, had vanished. My decade of desperate, burning love had only managed to burn myself. The person who was supposed to protect me had become the one who hurt me the most. I looked down at the NYU acceptance letter in my hand. I had to leave. I had to pull him out of my heart, no matter how much it hurt. I picked up the phone and dialed my father's number. Dad, I said, my voice hoarse, "I've decided. I want to come be with you in New York."/1/103326/coverorgin.jpg?v=54bedbb2f670fbb3db4962167d95c921&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Fired My Fiance, Claimed My Empire
I went undercover as a trainee in my own hotel, a secret pact with my fiancé, Greyson, the hotel's General Manager. We were supposed to be building an empire together. But our future ended the moment he chose another woman over me. He let a manipulative socialite named Imogen terrorize our staff. She deliberately scalded my hand with hot coffee, and when I stood up to her, Greyson publicly humiliated me. On a speakerphone call with the city's mayor, he demanded I apologize. "Apologize to Ms. Short," his voice boomed for the entire staff to hear. "This kind of disrespect is unacceptable." My fiancé, the man I loved, had just ordered me to kneel before the woman who assaulted me. So I dropped my disguise. I revealed my true identity as the heiress to the Kerr hotel empire and said, "Greyson Holden, you're fired. Get out of my hotel."/1/100041/coverorgin.jpg?v=42b1d1cd0d12edf987fa5cd92eaa2dbd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Ashes To Altar: Her Vengeance
My mother was killed in a hit-and-run. My husband, Haywood, told me to drop the investigation. Then my father died because Haywood froze my assets, refusing to pay for his life-saving surgery. "My mother was murdered!" I screamed at him. "You want me to just... forget that?" He told me he knew who the driver was and threatened to ruin me if I didn't stop. He used his power to destroy my career, publicly shame me, and even had me thrown into a cellar full of venomous spiders, leaving me for dead. The final blow came when he forced me to lie on a live stream at my mother's grave, confessing to crimes I didn't commit. As I collapsed, he had his men scatter her ashes into the mud. I lost everything. My family, my dignity, my truth. They thought they had broken me. They were wrong. As I boarded a flight out of New York, I hit 'Go Live' on a global stream. "My name is Celina Alvarado," I began, my voice steady. "And I'm here to tell you everything."/0/83928/coverorgin.jpg?v=5d2a230e1fa678fec12ae5798f6fc503&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Her Billion-Dollar Betrayal
My hands were calloused from years on construction sites, every ache a testament to the future Gabrielle and I were building. That future shattered when she burst into tears, claiming our life savings – eighty thousand dollars – had vanished in a crypto scam. "It' s okay, Gabby," I told her, holding her tight, even as my world crumbled. I promised we' d make it back, taking extra shifts, my mom Maria even offering to help clean at the Rittenhouse Grand. Then the hospital called. My mom, Maria, was in the ER, her hands brutally crushed by a hammer. The hotel claimed she' d "accidentally spilled a drink" on a guest. My blood ran cold, a rage I never knew I possessed simmering beneath the surface. I stormed to the Rittenhouse, my fury set on finding the monster who did this. But hidden in a private dining room, I found Gabrielle. My wife. She was laughing, adorned in silk, handing a man a "bouquet" of rolled-up hundred-dollar bills. "That old hag who bumped into you?" she cooed, "I had security take care of her. They broke her fingers and threw her out." My mother. Not an accident, but a cruel, calculated act. And the $80,000? "It was for that custom suit of yours," she told the man, "the one the old cleaner ruined." My world didn't just tilt; it imploded. Everything I believed, everything I loved, was a lie. My mother, now maimed, screamed for me to save her bone fragments from being fed to dogs. And just moments later, Gabrielle was demanding tequila for her Four Seasons suite. How could the woman I vowed to love be such a monster? How could my mother' s agonizing pain be the cost of a suit and a twisted game? I carried her secrets, her fears, as the doctor confirmed her hands were permanently destroyed. But when Gabrielle, in the same hospital, offered to buy my dying mother' s organs for Ethan' s family, claiming she was a "disgruntled ex," then hung up on me because Ethan' s mother was critical, a cold resolve settled deep in my gut. What kind of hell was this, and how could I make her pay?/0/86744/coverorgin.jpg?v=6f7904351cf083f541f9d57399d6565b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Picking Up The Relationship Trash
"Olivia, we need to break up." I said the words quietly. We were sitting on the couch we' d picked out together two years ago. Instead of concern, she laughed, thinking it was a joke because she forgot almond milk. Then her phone buzzed. It was Liam. Again. "Can we not do this right now? It's Liam. He needs me." It was always Liam. On our anniversary, the night my grandmother died. He always had a crisis only Olivia could solve. He arrived less than twenty minutes later, looking pale and distressed. He saw me, and his voice, laced with fake vulnerability, faltered. "Olivia said you guys were having a talk. I can go if this is a bad time. I just… I had another panic attack." He looked at Olivia, playing the victim, making me the bad guy. I' d seen this a hundred times: the late-night calls, the fabricated emergencies. I felt a snap inside me. "You' re always having a panic attack, Liam," I blurted. "You strategically dismantle. You make sure you are always the priority." Liam recoiled, his face crumbling. Olivia' s face hardened, disappointment aimed squarely at me. "Noah, stop it. You know he struggles. How can you be so cruel?" She moved to Liam' s side, placing a protective arm around him. She was comforting him. From me. My heart dissolved. I was the outsider. "I' m tired of coming in second place to him. I' m tired of being the bad guy for wanting a partner, not a part-time caregiver for your friend." I grabbed my bag. As I walked out, Olivia' s voice, thick with disbelief, followed me. "You' re really leaving? Over this? You' re just going to throw everything away because you' re jealous?" I stopped but didn' t turn. "It was already thrown away, Liv. I' m just the one finally picking up the trash." I closed the door./0/84554/coverorgin.jpg?v=5a4122492fdd0aa108c133971bcbf09a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Steel & Scars: Revenge in Prison
For ten years, I put my ambitious architecture career on hold for my husband Mark, playing the dutiful wife and mother. Finally, with our son older and Mark's company stable, I returned to my dream, leading a monumental project, the Henderson building. But a fabricated crisis, orchestrated by Mark and his high school sweetheart Sarah, derailed everything; they framed me for corporate espionage and had me arrested, landing me in jail. Alone in a stark cell, Mark offered me a cruel deal: give up my son, my home, and all our assets, or face years in prison. They thought they' d broken me, but signing those papers was just the first step in reclaiming my life and making them pay./1/102701/coverorgin.jpg?v=93cd1480525534bb692a3a0de5cc3030&imageMogr2/format/webp)
They Stole Everything: Now I Take
For seven years, I was a prisoner in a wheelchair, and my husband, Carter, was my devoted savior. After the accident that stole my legs, he fed me, bathed me, and carried me. He was my entire world. Then I discovered his secret: he was having an affair with Jade, the daughter of the man who crippled me. My "recovery" smoothies weren't for healing; they were laced with sedatives to keep me weak and dependent. When I confronted them, Jade pushed me down the stairs. As I lay bleeding on the cold marble floor, I felt a sharp, agonizing pain. I was losing our baby. Carter looked down at me with disgust. "You're pathetic, Alayna. Stay here and rot." He walked out, leaving me to die. But I didn't die. My family found me. And as I slowly, miraculously, learned to walk again, the broken wife he knew was gone. They took my legs, my child, and my trust. Now, I would take everything from them./0/80487/coverorgin.jpg?v=60c95df3e4a1efe2f2238174bcee976f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
A Sister's Unyielding Fury
My parents and brother were heroes, decorated with Medals of Freedom and a Medal of Honor for their profound sacrifice to this country. After their deaths, all my sister Isabella and I had was each other, and the fragile hope that she’d find happiness with her seemingly dependable fiancé, Ryan. But that hope shattered when a frantic call sent me to the ER: Isabella was brutally beaten, Ryan claiming she "fell," though the doctor confirmed blunt force trauma. The real horror began when Ryan’s wealthy mistress, Victoria Jenkins, confronted me, admitting she was Isabella’s attacker and gloating about her power. Ryan, the man who swore to protect Isabella, utterly betrayed her, backing Victoria’s "accident" lie and accepting her family’s blood money to dismiss the assault. The system failed us: police ignored my pleas, lawyers found their hands tied, and Victoria, untouchable because of her family’s influence, literally threw money onto Isabella’s bruised hospital bed, mocking her. Then came the kidnapping, the beating, the chilling blackmail: Victoria flaunted a vile video of Isabella and forced Ryan to confess an even darker secret—he’d previously pushed Isabella, causing a devastating miscarriage years ago. My sister’s spirit broke, extinguishing the last flicker of hope in her eyes, leaving me rage-filled and desperate for true justice in a system that seemed utterly rigged. How could the ideals my family died for be so easily trampled by the corrupt and powerful? But as I looked at our heroes' medals, a cold, unyielding resolve ignited within me; Victoria thought she'd won, but she gravely underestimated a sister with nothing left to lose. We wouldn’t disappear. We would make ourselves impossible to ignore, demanding this country live up to the sacrifices made for its freedom./1/106612/coverorgin.jpg?v=6a40c75ca5f384edb2df74eb286604c4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Secret Wife Of Hollywood's Monk
Ivy wasn't just another D-list actress struggling to survive in the shark-infested waters of Hollywood. She was secretly Mrs. Holt Nicholson, the wife of the world’s most famous, elusive, and supposedly celibate movie star. The secret that kept her safe became her cage during a high-profile charity gala. A loose thread on the red carpet sent her stumbling, and her hands landed directly on Holt’s crotch in front of a thousand flashing cameras. By the next morning, Ivy was the most hated woman on the planet. The hashtag #IvySnowMolester trended number one worldwide. Her L’Oreal deal was dead, her upcoming series fired her, and her rival, Kennedy Gilmore, led a public crusade to bury her for good. Paparazzi laid siege to her apartment while fans leaked her address on the dark web. She wasn't just losing her career; she was being hunted like a predator. The world saw a violation, but Ivy knew the truth—it was a freak accident. Holt had even gripped her arm to steady her, a detail the cameras conveniently missed. Now, she was trapped between a mob demanding her head and a husband whose silence felt like a death sentence. Desperate to save her, Ivy’s agent told a massive lie: they weren't married, they were "cousins." Ivy expected a lawsuit from Holt’s shark lawyers, but instead, the superstar publicly claimed her as family and snubbed her enemies. He didn't serve her divorce papers; he ordered her to move into his high-tech fortress to prep for the role of a lifetime, proving that being "family" was far more dangerous than being a stranger./1/114121/coverorgin.jpg?v=93f1972ea67cf6d185c64b7fd55bebab&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Jilted Bride's Comeback: A Billionaire Queen
My wedding to Ethan Reed was just weeks away. After seven years, I was certain of our perfect future. Then, Ethan claimed "selective amnesia" from a head injury, forgetting only me. I tried to make him remember, until I overheard his video call. "Total genius move," he boasted to friends. His amnesia was a fake "hall pass" to pursue influencer Chloe Vance before our wedding. Heartbroken, I feigned belief. I endured his open flirting with Chloe and their taunting selfies. He mocked my distress, prioritizing Chloe's fake emergency. After an accident he caused, he abandoned me, injured, choosing to send Chloe to the hospital first. He even tried to cut me off financially. How could my fiancé be this cruel, calculating monster? His betrayal poisoned every memory. I felt like a fool for trusting such boundless cruelty. His audacity left me reeling. But I wouldn’t be his victim. Instead of breaking, a cold plan formed. I would shed my identity, become Olivia Carter. I would disappear, leaving him, my past, and his engagement ring behind forever, claiming my freedom./0/84398/coverorgin.jpg?v=e9ff4a11131b4c3c1659b1a2c71d11e2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Justice For Lily
I sacrificed my promising career as an architect, becoming a devoted stay-at-home dad so my brilliant, charismatic wife, Nicole, could chase her political dreams. Our daughter, Lily, was my world, the only pure thing left in our gilded life. Then I discovered Nicole was cheating with her ambitious campaign intern. I tried to handle it quietly, discreetly reassigning the intern to a remote, terrible posting. But Nicole' s reaction was ice: she retaliated by locking our beloved six-year-old Lily on our yacht, right as a massive storm rolled in, blackmailing me for the intern' s location. Despite my desperate pleas, she abandoned our daughter to find her lover. I raced to the marina, but it was too late. Lily's faint "Daddy!" scream was swallowed by the violent waves as the yacht capsized, taking my daughter with it. Three days later, they found her tiny body. Yet, Nicole scoffed, rolled her eyes, and accused me of fabricating Lily's death to ruin her campaign. When I brought Lily's cremation urn home, Nicole, with her lover by her side, laughed and slapped it to the floor, scattering my daughter's ashes. That moment something inside me snapped. How could the woman I loved, the mother of my child, be so devoid of humanity? How could she deny our daughter's death and shatter her remains? The gentle man I was died on that polished floor. But from the ashes of my despair rose a chilling resolve. Nicole had destroyed my life; now, I would systematically dismantle hers. I was no longer a victim. I was the weapon./0/86901/coverorgin.jpg?v=f48c22788421a05a20850c6f12d69d6b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
When Gratitude Turns Bitter
"I'm sure about this. I want to volunteer." Ava Williams looked the program director in the eye, her voice steady, determined to commit two years in a conflict zone. Inside, her heart was a mess, but she had to do this. Then, a fire truck screamed past, its siren wailing, and suddenly, she was a child again, trapped in a burning home. Her parents were gone, but a young man, Liam, scooped her into his arms, whispering, "It's okay. I've got you. I'll always have you." That promise became the foundation of her world. She grew up, and her gratitude for Liam, her legal guardian, transformed into love. On her eighteenth birthday, she confessed, "I love you. Not like a sister." He froze, his expression cold. "I am your brother. Your guardian. Don't ever say that again." After that night, a wall went up between them. She didn't give up. Every time she came home, she would tell him again, "I still love you, Liam." And every time, without hesitation, he would shut her down. "Ava, stop. It's never going to happen." His rejection was a constant, painful beat in the rhythm of her life. Then he brought Sophia Miller home. "She's my fiancée," he announced. The word hit Ava with the force of a physical impact. She watched them together, saw the open affection he had never given her. That night, she listened to sounds of intimacy from his bedroom, a thousand tiny cuts on her soul. Why was the man who saved her, who promised to always have her, now rejecting her, denying her love, and choosing someone else? How could the gratitude and dependence she carried for him turn into such a bitter and painful burden? An eerie calm settled over her. The hope she had clung to for so long was finally, completely dead. She had to leave./0/85806/coverorgin.jpg?v=fae70ab214058cbbdfc33f7dee59d479&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Mother's Mind, Daughter's Fury
The final line of code compiled, my latest multi-billion dollar tech merger project complete. I, Chloe, had delivered. Then my phone buzzed with an urgent neighborhood alert from back home. "Chloe, your mother, is she okay?" Mrs. Gable asked, attaching a shaky video. It showed my elegant mother, a renowned art restorer, rummaging through garbage bins, disheveled and thin. This couldn't be true. I' d set up a trust, paid for everything-even a luxurious round-the-world cruise she was supposedly on. But the next image shattered me: my mother' s custom-made emerald gown and heirloom sapphire necklace on Brenda, our housekeeper, at a "charity gala." The sheer audacity ripped through me. They were symbols of my love, meant only for Mom. My stepfather, Mark, dismissed the video as Mom' s "new hobby" and claimed she' d lent Brenda the treasures. His lies were thin, but when I heard Brenda and Mark plotting to permanently confuse Mom with a "new mixture" in her tea and have her committed to steal everything, my blood ran cold. They had built a house of lies on my mother' s broken mind, and I was 10,000 miles away, powerless. Not anymore. I cancelled everything. I was flying home. They had no idea who they were dealing with./0/81113/coverorgin.jpg?v=90a0b60de7b420407aca886b2ea6cf07&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Inheritance of Lies: The Daughter's Revenge
My fiancé, Jake, stood impatiently by the Greyhound bus, his hand on my back, promising a new life away from our dying West Virginia town. But this wasn't our first trip. In another life, just moments after boarding this very bus, his hands closed around my throat. I remembered the cold fury in his eyes and the hiss of another woman's name: Brittany. That life ended with my world going dark. My hero father' s legacy, his survivor benefits, and even his house, systematically stolen by Jake' s family, the Millers. They' d taken me in after Grandma died, only to exploit every cent, while Brittany, the town's "it girl," brazenly used my father's name for her own gain, all with Sheriff Miller's complicit blessing. How could I have been so naive? So blind to Jake's possessive obsession with Brittany? To the quiet exploitation that turned my father's honorable memory into a tool for their greedy schemes? The realization burned, a colder wrath than death itself. Now, I' m back. The naive Ava is dead, burned away by the memory of my own murder. This time, I won't just board the bus; I'll wait. I' ll make them wait. Because this second chance isn't about escaping-it's about justice. For my father, for my stolen life. And I know Jake remembers too. He' s already planning./0/62497/coverorgin.jpg?v=a6d80cb22138ec374df09f2c5e632e46&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn: Escaping the Shackles
Here's the translation: "I poured my heart and soul into raising my daughter, only to be seen as controlling her. She accidentally pushed me down the stairs, leading to my death. When I got a second chance at life, I decided I no longer wanted to be a 'good mom.' My daughter took the opportunity to go to her 'good dad,' but after experiencing everything, she realized it wasn't the paradise she had imagined. She returned once again, but I knew her nature was hard to change. She was threatened by her dad to send me to an old man, but I was already prepared. In the end, I sent both her and her 'good dad' to prison."/0/82834/coverorgin.jpg?v=ee81d99db1a7b7f0b636ebad6a1d669b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Borrowed Time, Stolen Life
I gave my best friend, Julian, one of my kidneys. It was a simple decision; he was family. Later, when my father fell ill, needing a transplant, I offered my remaining kidney, willing to risk my own life for him. But then Chloe, my fiancée, abandoned me. A week later, her Instagram was flooded with pictures: happy, healthy Julian, and my Chloe, married, on lavish vacations. I was left with a dying father and crippling debt. That' s when Vicky Hayes, a childhood friend from a powerful healthcare family, appeared, promising salvation. She covered all the medical bills, became my rock, and eventually, my wife. Yet, my father died after the operation, and I was left with an artificial kidney, a constant reminder of my sacrifice. Six years of agony, six years of marriage, and I stumbled upon a conversation that shattered my world. My father never received that kidney. Julian didn't even critically need it. Vicky, my wife, had orchestrated everything, a monstrous lie built on my life and my father's death. She chose Julian over everything, over us. The woman I loved, who saved me, stood revealed as the architect of my deepest pain. Every day of agony, every loss, was her design. How could I have been so blind? My world spun, my blood ran cold, but a chilling clarity descended. This wasn't just betrayal; this was a calculated destruction. I grabbed my phone, pressed record, and began to plan./0/60620/coverorgin.jpg?v=6c15c894fdb7dc6e1bd946df487040f6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Possessed By An Octopus
After breaking up with the movie king, I went diving and ended up getting sprayed with ink by a giant octopus. In that moment, I was invaded by the octopus's genes. This creature has nine brains, eight tentacles, and three hearts. My IQ skyrocketed instantly, and the romantic mindset that had troubled me for years was replaced by a new career-focused mindset. This time, I could finally distinguish who truly cared for me and who was just putting on a facade. I fired my angelic bitch of a manager and took control of everything myself. When I argued with netizens, I could take on a hundred of them at once. Later, the movie king called me again: "You respond to netizens pretty quickly, but why can't you see my messages?" I sincerely replied: "Sorry, but my IQ is too high now; you're a bit beneath me."/0/86745/coverorgin.jpg?v=848f0ca9a0bf7ef091251d1ed9cc46ac&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Wife I Refused to Save
My wife was dying, and I refused to save her. That's what everyone in the hospital believed, and what the headlines would scream. The hospital called; Sarah, my wife, was in critical condition after a severe car accident, needing a specialized, uninsured procedure costing half a million dollars. I said no. The word hung heavy in the air. This wasn't just Sarah's life; it was a choice between her, and the future of my company and hundreds of employees. My terrified in-laws pleaded, "You're comparing your company to your wife's life? To the mother of your child?" My six-year-old daughter, Lily, tugged at my pants, her innocent eyes filled with tears. "Daddy? Is Mommy going to die?" I told her I had to protect the company for our future, a necessary cruelty. My mother-in-law shrieked accusations, calling me a monster, flinging accusations of how Sarah sacrificed everything for me. The crowd gathered, their judgment a palpable weight. They whispered, "He won't pay to save his own wife. What a scumbag." A part of me smiled behind my mask of indifference. Let them judge. They were watching the wrong movie, completely unaware of the real plot. Then, my daughter held out her pink piggy bank, offering all she had. "Daddy, I have money. You can use my money to save Mommy." I knew this was the part I dreaded most, the collateral damage of a wicked plan. This entire tragic drama was meticulously orchestrated, but not by me. And I was about to expose every single one of them./0/79549/coverorgin.jpg?v=7ab6243c31083f69475203fe798292b1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Bride to Scorpion's Heir
My wedding day was perfect. The Arizona sun, desert blooms, the man of my dreams at the altar. Ethan. My father, Senator Daniel Reynolds, a pillar of the community, walked me down the aisle, his pride evident. It was all a beautiful lie. Just as I reached Ethan, he pulled out a DEA badge. "Senator Daniel Reynolds, you're under arrest." Chaos erupted, a shot rang out, and my father fell, dead. Ethan's cold eyes delivered the final blow: "It was an operation, Ava. Nothing more." My world shattered. I was discarded, questioned, abandoned. The man I loved blocked me, his job done. But the depths of my betrayal didn't stop there. I soon unearthed my mother's secret. Her "hiking accident" was no accident; she was a DEA agent, investigating my father, and killed by his cartel. My life, a cruel charade. How could everything I believed be a lie? My loving father a drug lord? My gentle mother a secret agent? My fiancé, a calculating spy? The injustice burned, fueling a fire hotter than any pain. Now, Ava Reynolds is dead. Ava is no more-only Alma remains. I will turn my pain, my rage, into a weapon. I will infiltrate the heart of the cartel that stole my mother. I will make them pay. Even if it means using the very man who broke me./0/82678/coverorgin.jpg?v=828405f4a920117978e588db77d1eca8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
