Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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Wife on the Wire: A Mother's Sacrifice
My first life ended with a bomb, a cruel joke played by my own husband, Andrew. Then, a blink, and I was back, the bitter taste of betrayal fresh on my tongue. This time, it wasn't me on the bomb, but my mother-in-law, trapped on a pressure plate in a derelict industrial lot. Andrew, an EOD expert, was our only hope, but I knew his true colors. In my past life, he let me die while he was out with his high school sweetheart, Sabrina. This time, he scoffed, called it a prank, and refused to come, humiliating his own mother in front of the entire town. He even accused me of trying to ruin his "perfect day" with Sabrina, leaving his frantic mother abandoned and weeping. The world watched as my mother-in-law' s strength gave out, her legs trembling on the brink of disaster. How could he be so monstrously cruel, so utterly devoid of humanity, to abandon his own mother to a a gruesome death, all for a date? Knowing there was no other choice, and vowing to expose his depravity to everyone, I took a steadying breath. I placed my foot beside hers, ready to trade places and face what Andrew refused to save./1/101138/coverorgin.jpg?v=30d51b48d93d1f66c3c5cf1cdaa8a7eb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Monster Behind His Mask
My husband Declan' s recklessness on a ski slope left me with chronic pain and unable to have children. He played the part of my devoted caretaker, but his perfect facade shattered when a stray cat, abandoned by our new neighbor, purred against his leg with a chilling familiarity. That whisper of betrayal led me to her apartment, where I found his pregnant mistress, Bridgett. She smirked, calling me Declan's "perpetually ill wife" and flaunted the baby I could never give him. When I demanded a divorce, both our families turned on me, calling me hysterical and greedy. Declan dropped to his knees, begging for forgiveness, but his "love" felt like a cage built on my pain and his lies. The truth, however, was far more monstrous. Bridgett later appeared on my doorstep, terrified, revealing Declan had forced her to lose their baby-a twisted "proof of love" meant to win me back. As he pounded on my door, confessing his crime and screaming that I was his, I realized I hadn't just married a cheater. I had married a monster./1/102546/coverorgin.jpg?v=4bf56ad1b06588716bab275aedf5df23&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Discovered His Will, Faked My Death
After seven years of marriage, I discovered my billionaire husband Grayson' s will. He was leaving his entire fortune not to me, but to his young protégée, Kira. My life was a lie; I was just a placeholder, a womb for the heir his mistress couldn't carry. When I demanded a divorce, he laughed. "You're pregnant, Elyse. And you think you're just going to walk away with my child?" He tore up the papers, threatening to use his immense power to take our baby. Then Kira, his mistress, showed up at my door, confirming my worst fear: Grayson wanted my child to raise as his and hers. She even sent me a photo of him asleep in her bed, wearing the pajamas I bought him, with a chilling message. "He hopes our baby has a dimple too. For me." I was chosen because I resembled her. My son was meant to be her child. That night, I vanished. The news later reported a pregnant woman, identified by my wedding ring, had died in a clinic fire. But I was already on a plane, my hand on my belly, escaping to a new life./0/82679/coverorgin.jpg?v=7c9bdc329bc4418726577adff0b7425d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn and Ruthless: The Pregnant Wife's Reckoning
The last thing I remembered was Chloe' s voice, a chilling whisper cutting through the haze: "She's just an obstacle, Ethan, her and that baby." One bitter sentence, sealing my fate. Then, absolute darkness. A searing, unbearable pain tore through me, and then… nothingness. My precious baby, my entire future, brutally ripped away. And why? Because my own husband, Ethan Harrison, had chosen my venomous stepsister, Chloe, over us. Chloe, a snake in darling packaging, had once cast Ethan aside when he was nothing, only to reappear, slithering back into his life the moment his star began its relentless ascent. Their calculated betrayal left me with nothing but the chilling echo of what might have been, a life extinguished before it truly began, my child sacrificed to their ambition. The phantom pain of that demise still clawed at me, a constant reminder of the monstrous injustice. How could they? How could Ethan, the man who vowed to cherish me, and Chloe, my own stepsister, conspire to eradicate me and my unborn child? The question raged within, a burning inferno of disbelief and seething hatred. Then, with a gasp, my eyes flew open. Blinding sunlight streamed into my opulent bedroom at the Harrison estate. My hand instinctively flew to my stomach, no longer flat and barren, but subtly curved. "Congratulations, Mrs. Harrison, you' re pregnant." The doctor' s words from this morning echoed. I was back. This time, things would be different. This baby would live. And everyone who wronged me-Ethan, Chloe, Eleanor, even Brenda-would face my reckoning./1/102703/coverorgin.jpg?v=85f09fe58fee7f5abcbf8661e292c9fa&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Thirteen Years Of His Lies
For thirteen years, I waited for my fiancé, Brandon. Our marriage was blocked ninety-nine times by his family's board, or so he told me. Each time, he'd accept a public corporate penalty, playing the martyr for our love. But on the day of the 100th vote, I overheard the truth. The board had approved our marriage every single time. He was the one sabotaging it, fabricating issues to appease his manipulative adopted sister, Kendal. That night, at a "surprise party," he kissed her with a passion he hadn't shown me in years. When I later confronted him about her lies, he shoved me. I fell, my head splitting open on the coffee table. As I lay bleeding on the floor, he didn't help me. He stood over me, protecting his crying sister. "Apologize to Kendal, Averi." That's when I finally saw him for the weak man he was. I wiped the blood from my face, walked out of the life we built, and accepted the marriage proposal from his biggest rival./0/86590/coverorgin.jpg?v=993a31ffa41ea40062df957aaa227290&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Heartbreak and a Hollowed Home
"I need the money, Sarah," Mark said, his voice smooth and confident. "All of it. It's for us." He talked about a new business venture, a sure thing that would set them up for life. I believed him, loved him, and trusted him. The next morning, I withdrew our entire life savings for him. A week later, our baby boy, Liam, started coughing. It quickly grew worse. His small body felt hot. The doctor said it was his heart; he needed immediate surgery. I called Mark, desperate. "Mark, it's Liam. He's sick. The doctor said he needs an operation right away. We need the money." "The money's gone, Sarah. It's tied up in the investment." His voice was cold, distant. When I pressed him, he snapped, "Don't be so dramatic. He's probably just got a bad cold. You're overreacting." He hung up. Desperation took over. I worked three jobs, earning every dollar. But it was never enough. Liam's medical bills piled up. While I was scrubbing a stranger's floor, the hospital called. Liam had taken a turn for the worse. I raced to his side, but it was too late. My son died in a sterile hospital room. I couldn't even afford a proper funeral. They gave me his ashes in a plain cardboard box. Days later, I saw Mark outside a high-end jewelry store, laughing, his arm around Jessica White. He bought her a glittering diamond necklace. The truth crashed down on me. There was no investment. There was only Jessica. He had taken our life savings, our future, our son's only chance at life, and spent it on her. How could he? How could I have been so blind? My son was dead because of his lies. The man I loved betrayed me, destroyed everything, then protected the woman who mocked my dead child. I had nothing left to lose./0/89719/coverorgin.jpg?v=c35d447e5bdd2185cc3cc2a9b17e8f57&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Bloom and Fade in Sunflowers
"I am willing to go to Otresh and join Doctors Without Borders." Kenia Watson's voice was firm. The Chief Medical Officer hesitated for a moment before speaking. "The aid mission to Otresh will last at least two years. Does your husband agree with you going?" She rotated the ring on her right hand, took a moment of silence, and then answered, "We're about to divorce. I hope you won't tell him where I'm going after I leave." She had tolerated so much, continuously searching for the truth from years ago. When she was diagnosed with cancer, her husband was having an affair with her stepsister. This time, she chose to let go and leave, refusing to be entangled with him any longer. "Hobson, in a month, we will be free." Yet, when she was critically ill, he knelt by her hospital bed, praying repeatedly for her to wake up./0/81115/coverorgin.jpg?v=da1fd6476ef068519cc670ac771de8fc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Wife's Golden Lie
My life was a constant grind: three jobs, every cent, every heirloom gone, all to keep my wife, Sera, out of prison. She was supposedly in a high-end facility, recovering from a failed tech startup, and I believed I was saving her, sacrificing until nothing was left. Then the phone call came, a final, urgent demand for more money. My seven-year-old son, Leo, must have overheard my desperate pleas for "golden blood" cash. In his innocent, heartbreaking attempt to save his mom, he went to sell his own rare Rh-null blood. It killed him. At the clinic, they handed me an envelope of cash-his blood money. But the real horror began when I arrived at the facility's office, intending to make the final payment. I overheard my "imprisoned" wife, Sera, calmly discussing me and Leo with a man, Marcus Thorne: "He and the boy have served their purpose. Make sure they're given a quiet way out." She was never imprisoned; it was all a monstrous, elaborate lie. Leo's precious, life-giving blood, the very reason he died, wasn't for her freedom, but for her new baby with Marcus. My son died for a fabricated charade, for a woman who plotted his disposal. The news then flashed her radiant face, celebrating her new marriage and pregnancy, while I was left holding Leo' s blood money. Later, loan sharks, sent by Marcus, desecrated Leo' s scattered ashes in our home. There was nothing left to lose, everything had been taken. But when they defiled the last remnant of my son, something in me snapped. With nothing but a cheap pen in my hand, I fought back. The game was over. It was time to choose: crumble or rise from the ashes of my ruined life./1/101765/coverorgin.jpg?v=2fd08178c2c5e3a9dbadcb6f6f10453c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
He Faked Amnesia To Break Our Vows
I was sealing our wedding invitations with crimson wax when I heard my fiancé through the slightly ajar study door. Ethan wasn't reciting the poetry he’d written for me over the last seven years. He was outlining the logistics of his betrayal. "If I fake amnesia after the 'accident' tonight, I can delay the wedding without the family stopping the merger," Ethan laughed, ice clinking in his glass. "And Ava? The Canary?" his friend asked. "Ava is property. You maintain property; you don't have fun with it. While she plays nurse, I get a medical exemption to sleep with Chloe." My world shattered. I fled into the rainy night, blinded by tears, until headlights turned my world upside down. I woke up in the wreckage, my arm shattered, tasting blood. Ethan arrived moments later. But he didn't run to me. He stepped right over my bleeding body to comfort Chloe, who had a minor scratch on her forehead. "I've got you, baby," he cooed to his mistress, looking at me with nothing but cold annoyance. "Don't worry about her. She's tough." He left me in the street. By the next morning, the narrative was set: The tragic Don had lost his memory of his fiancée, but miraculously remembered his 'true love,' Chloe. He evicted me from our penthouse while I was still in surgery. He thought he had won. He thought the Canary would just die in the cold. He forgot one thing. I knew where he hid the bodies—literally. I walked into his staged public proposal, slammed my ring on the table, and left a note under it. *I remember everything. And so do you.* Then I boarded a plane with his secret incriminating journal in my bag. The empire was about to burn./0/79551/coverorgin.jpg?v=6bf0d4755eebdf885831c1be1a6d1307&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Husband's Double Life
My life with Liam Goldstein was a fairytale, a perfect love story plastered across every magazine and TV screen in Manhattan. He'd even unveiled the "Maya's Horizon" necklace, a multi-million-dollar cascade of sapphires, celebrating our perfect devotion. But fairytales are just that – tales. Then came the burner phone, the hushed calls, the screenshots, and hotel receipts that screamed 'affair'. I watched him live-stream gifts to his young mistress, Ava Sinclair, calling her his "queen," only to later find her visibly pregnant in a hospital, flaunting our engagement necklace and talking about a "situation" with me. His friends, the same ones who toasted our "perfect love," smirked as he publicly kissed Ava and joked about his "side action," assuring her I'd "never find out." Every grand gesture he'd made, from donating a kidney to cultivating a white rose garden, flashed before my eyes, revealing themselves as calculated performances. How could the man who saved my life, the one I vowed to, betray me with such grotesque audacity, in front of the world and his complicit inner circle? It felt like a sick cosmic joke, a public humiliation disguised as love. But I had given him a warning on our wedding day: "If you ever lie to me, truly lie, I will vanish from your life as if I never existed." Now, it was time to activate the Phoenix Initiative, erase Maya Goldstein, and leave Liam with nothing but ghost of a promise he had shattered./1/102078/coverorgin.jpg?v=6b76d75d40561bf7a94e5fbff5aa76d4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Matcha Scent of His Betrayal
My ten-year marriage was a transactional lie, built on an astrologer's prophecy that my chart would ensure my husband's success. But on my birthday, he abandoned me to take his young intern, Anais, to the sci-fi festival I' d dreamed of for years. He came home smelling of her sweet matcha perfume, a green hair tie and a festival souvenir tucked in his pocket. He called me dramatic, said she was "fragile" and needed him. At our anniversary gala, meant to be his grand apology, I watched him kiss her passionately on the terrace during the fireworks display. He was still whispering promises in my ear, completely oblivious. That night, I left him the divorce papers and my wedding ring. But he tracked me down on my solo trip to Utah, finding me with my new guide, Casey. He punched Casey, then accused me of cheating. "You belong to me!" he roared. Just then, his phone rang. It was a video call from a hysterical Anais. "Howard, I'm pregnant! My parents are furious! They're demanding we get married immediately!"/0/51236/coverorgin.jpg?v=6970612f09b5746499a10a893c961a56&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Bittersweet Arrangements : A Sugar Dady Affair
"Uncle, is it wrong if I like you?" Elena whispered, successfully freezing Devan's body. "I don't know why this feeling has to be present. And I'm stupid why it has to be with my parents' best friend," Elena admitted, realizing her mistake."Of course not, El. It's natural for a daughter to like or even idolize her own father," answered Devan calmly, trying to make Elena aware.Those gentle but full of thorns words immediately stuck, tearing Elena's heart. Is this what it feels like to have a broken heart?Devan's facial expression turned dark when his sharp eyes fixed on the hazel eyes in front of him which were starting to look teary. Slowly the girl's lips opened. He seemed to be shaking violently to say a word."But...but El doesn't think of Uncle like Dad. El really likes Uncle," Elena honestly said while holding back the pool of water that was pressing on the corner of her eyes.It's all about love, hope and age. Can they convince the world that love never knows time and age?/0/84401/coverorgin.jpg?v=cd4cf00dd4118d521ca0b153c18e34b6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Wife, Her Intern, And The Watch
My phone buzzed, pulling me from millions in quarterly reports. It was Instagram. I found a picture of my wife' s intern, Ethan, smirking, wearing my grandfather' s prized Rolex – a priceless family heirloom. His caption: "A huge thank you to the most generous boss and mentor, Sabrina Anderson, for this incredible gift." Rage, cold and sharp, washed over me. I messaged her, "Where is my watch?" Her reply: "I loaned it to Ethan. Relax, Nate. Don't be so dramatic. It's just a watch." "Just a watch." Her words shattered everything. All the sacrifices, the empire I built for her. My anger turned to icy resolve. She didn't just disrespect the watch; she disrespected my family, my history, and me. I made a call. Her custom Porsche, impounded. Her designer wardrobe, shredded. There was no turning back. This wasn't just about a watch; it was about reclaiming my life./1/107241/coverorgin.jpg?v=d1f138a007c48802b1d200eecde507cc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Price Of His Double Life
After seven years, my fiancé Elias and I were a month away from our wedding. I' d just been laid off from my architecture firm, but he promised to take care of me, calling me his queen. He was my rock, my future. Then, a single Instagram post shattered my world: a picture of a man's hand with a bandage exactly like the one Elias had, holding the hand of an influencer bragging about her rich, married "sugar daddy." The more I scrolled, the worse it got. He hadn't just cheated; he had orchestrated my firing, calling it "budget cuts," so his mistress could take my place. He even used the engagement party invitations I helped design for their future. He called me his "plain Jane architect," a boring fiancée he was escaping from. For six months, he had been living a double life, all while planning our wedding and systematically destroying mine. So at our lavish engagement party, when he abandoned me mid-celebration for his mistress's fake emergency, I didn't cry. I took the microphone, canceled the wedding, and played every single screenshot of his betrayal on the ballroom's giant screen for our hundreds of guests to see./1/101140/coverorgin.jpg?v=d37e0fd7b04d1056a7ce5c67fc160ad5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Wife He Tried to Erase
My doctor told me I had two weeks before a cerebral hematoma erased all my memories. I called my husband, Griffith, my rock, desperate for his comfort. He hung up on me. A text message followed: Come to the Aurora Gallery. Now. There, I was drugged, stripped naked, and put on a rotating pedestal as a live art installation for his mistress, Beryl. He watched from the crowd, smiling, and kissed her as the audience applauded my humiliation. When I discovered I was pregnant, he hid the sonogram. Then, for Beryl's next "art concept," he had his men drag me to a hospital and forced me to abort our child. He put our baby's body on display in the gallery. After I was kidnapped by men Beryl hired, I called him one last time, begging for my life as they held me over a cliff. He was with her. "Stop this nonsense," he said, annoyed, before hanging up. They cut the rope, and I plunged into the icy sea. But I didn't die. I woke up in Florence with no memory, a new name, and a kind man named Conner who nursed me back to health. Two years later, I returned to New York on Conner's arm, ready to attend our engagement party. And I saw him in the crowd, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Adelia?" he whispered, his face a mask of hope and horror. "Is that really you?"/0/85340/coverorgin.jpg?v=e05c620ba01da09d665527693dc1b2ae&imageMogr2/format/webp)
A Wife's Treachery, A Husband's Rebirth
The last thing I remembered was the cold, sterile air of the prison visiting room. Sarah' s face, twisted into a mask of contempt, spewed venomous words at me. "Ethan, that data-exfiltration device was clearly planted by you; you were just jealous of Alex and wanted him dead!" Her voice was sharp, cutting through the thick glass. "I truly regret leaving Alex for a simpleton like you; you deserve to rot in prison for what you did to him!" Then the guard pulled me away, the clang of the steel door sealing my fate: life in prison. For a crime I didn't commit, framed by my own wife. It all started with a ring, a smart ring Alex Thorne, her "mentor" and my rival, gave her. My FBI instincts screamed security risk, but Sarah, blinded by his charm, wore it anyway. That night, I found a sophisticated data-exfiltration device hidden inside, an espionage tool. I tried to protect her, to buy time, to frame it as a vulnerability in Thorne' s tech, sacrificing my career. But she betrayed me, leaking classified files, framing me with meticulous precision. The evidence was overwhelming, and I was arrested. The day in the visiting room, her final, venomous blow, shattered the last fragments of my soul. If I could do it all over again… Then, a wave of warmth, the scent of coffee, not prison food. I opened my eyes to sunlight in my living room. Sarah sat on the couch, her face lit with that same excited glow. In her hands, a small, sleek black box. "Ethan, look what Alex gave me!" she said, her smile bright and guileless. Time hadn't just rewound; it had given me a second chance. This time, I wouldn't be a fool. I wouldn't save her. I would save myself./1/101766/coverorgin.jpg?v=b5510b340da8094b145f04c600ca7f44&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Marrying His Rival: The Jilted Wife's Sweet Revenge
"Her blood type is a match. It’s the only option." I froze outside the conference room door, the quarterly reports digging into my ribs. I knew that voice. It was Ben, my husband’s best friend and doctor. But the next voice, cold and devoid of warmth, shattered my world. "Then we do it," my husband Ethan said. "Chloe cannot wait any longer. If Ava is the match, then Ava is the solution." For the past month, Ethan had been obsessed with my health, insisting on daily "vitamins" and endless checkups. He called it love. Standing in that hallway, I realized he was actually shopping for spare parts. "She is your wife, Ethan," Ben argued weakly. "You can't just harvest her like a crop." "She became my wife because she was useful," Ethan replied, his indifference cutting deeper than any scalpel. "Now, she can be useful for this." The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. The nausea I’d been feeling wasn't stress. I was pregnant. And those "vitamins" he fed me every morning? They weren't supplements. They were poisons designed to ensure I remained a viable donor. He was killing his own child to save his mistress. To him, I wasn't a partner. I was livestock. An asset to be liquidated for parts. I didn't burst into the room. I didn't scream. I walked away in silence, my hand hovering over my stomach. He wanted my kidney? He wanted to carve me up? I decided right then. I wouldn't just leave. I would terminate the pregnancy, fake my death, and burn his entire world to the ground./0/32308/coverorgin.jpg?v=e6c0bdbe2b4b788b5b505c63c16fa64a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Meeting Mr. Right By A One-night Stand
"Do you think I'm beautiful?" Anderson's back stiffened. Undoubtedly, she was beautiful. After a while, he said uneasily, "Yeah." Clarissa moved closer to him. She whispered in his ear and she thought that her voice was very low, "If I want to sleep with you, will you agree?" He narrowed his eyes slightly and said with meaningful eyes, "You have to pay the price for sleeping with me. Are you sure?" "Money? I have money."Clarissa laughed,"Aren't they looking down on me? I'm going to find someone who is much better than him. I want to piss them off!" She then put her arms around his neck and kissed his lips. It was a torrid night. The next morning, however, he handed her a copy of the marriage application she had signed. -------------------------------------- Clarissa Chapman, one day, when delivering condoms to a hotel room, she found her client was her... fiance? She caught her fiance and half-sister in bed! Only then did Clarissa realize that her six-year-relationship boyfriend had cheated on her! What's more ridiculous? Her father said it was because she wasn't attractive and her sister's more deserving of him. Dumped her douchebag fiance, she bumped into her Mr. Right by a one-night stand! Wait... why was this man looked exactly like the Billionaire CEO - Anderson Jordan on TV?! Anderson was of many things, handsome, considerate, and loyal. She'd never imagine a gorgeous like Anderson would fall in love with her, until that day... Her nightmarish family found her, trying to drag her to the miserable past...again.../0/79552/coverorgin.jpg?v=687e310de846e0f86932a1599d73d122&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Sister's Lover, My Husband
My life with Mark was perfect, a picture of happy marriage. He and his identical twin, David, ran a thriving brewery, and together with my sister Jess, we were an unbreakable foursome. Then, a shattering phone call. David, always so full of life, had collapsed and died. Weeks of agonizing grief followed, but the true nightmare began at a solemn family dinner. Mark's mother, Brenda, demanded the unthinkable: I was to carry David's child for my sister, a vessel for the "Thompson legacy." My own mother, always favoring Jess, twisted the knife, urging me to "be understanding." I stood paralyzed, while Mark, my supposed anchor, vehemently defended me. But that defense was a cruel facade. One night, I found him in my guest room, not comforting my grieving sister Jess, but kissing her. And then I heard it: "I want your baby, Mark. Openly. Not... not David's ghost." Jess was pregnant with his child. The man who swore to protect me was betraying me with my own sister, all while their desperate family tried to force me into a truly monstrous act. Every loving gesture, every word of trust, twisted into a grotesque lie. Was I truly so blind? So easily manipulated? Why me? Why this profound and sickening betrayal? That night, the naive wife died. A cold, hard rage ignited. I demanded a divorce, packed my bags, and moved halfway across the country. But Mark, Jess, and their twisted family thought they could sweep me aside. They were wrong. I wasn't running; I was retreating to draw the battle lines. This wasn't just about escape anymore. It was about meticulously crafting the perfect retribution, a revenge so complete, they'd wish they never crossed me./1/102079/coverorgin.jpg?v=486ae6fa60474bbd23b61d2a45560a7e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
