Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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His Cruel Joke, My Broken Heart
I did everything for Damian, my childhood best friend. His promise-"Get in shape, Lena, and I'll take you to prom"-was the only thing that mattered. I starved myself and ran until I collapsed, all for the future he dangled in front of me. But on his birthday, clutching the cake I' d baked, I overheard the truth. The promise was a cruel joke. To him and his real girlfriend, Gigi, I was just a "fat pig" whose desperate attempts to impress him were "hilarious to watch." They didn't stop there. They framed me for bullying, and Damian publicly denied ever caring for me. He then got my Stanford scholarship revoked with a malicious report and stood by as Gigi plastered my most private love letters all over school. I became a pariah, a "delusional, conniving bitch." The boy I had loved my whole life, the one who was supposed to be my protector, had orchestrated my complete and utter destruction for a laugh. Yet he still expected me to follow him to college. So when he called on move-in day, buzzing with excitement for our shared future, I let him ramble on about our plans. Then, I calmly cut through his fantasy. "I'm not here, Damian."/0/85395/coverorgin.jpg?v=1693b959caab60ac8b4794c6bf0f67da&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Divorce Papers, A Woman Reborn
My record label was a empire, built on grit and an uncanny ear for talent. But that morning, standing in my sanctuary, Studio A, the controlled chaos I expected was replaced by a scene that froze my blood: a girl I didn't know, holding "The Nightingale," Liam's one-of-a-kind microphone. It wasn't just any mic. It was our mic, a silver emblem of our shared career, engraved with "E+L"-a symbol of a sacred promise he made years ago, that only his voice would ever touch it. And this girl, Ava, with her sickly sweet smile, was singing into it, her cheap perfume clinging to the pop filter, her fingers wrapped right over our initials. My sound engineer paled and cut the audio. "Hi, Ms. Reed. I'm Ava. Liam said I could warm up with this one." Her voice was pure saccharine. Liam, the man of principles, who preached loyalty and integrity, had let her use it, had broken his promise for her. He walked in later, carefree, carrying coffees, asking, "Where's Ava?" as if it were nothing. Blithely admitting he told her she could use his mic. Why did he dismiss our vow so easily? Why was this girl, a stranger, allowed to hold something so intimate, so symbolic of us? And why did Liam act like my feelings were an overreaction, just something he needed to manage? I sent her home, but the real fight had just begun./0/99318/coverorgin.jpg?v=1e7785bc48654f0a9576ff8be12479ce&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Her Mute Heart, His Burning Betrayal
My name is Arlie Stevens, and I was a mute girl who grew up in the shadows of the Rust Belt. My street art was our daily bread, and Bowen McClure was my protector, my first love, and my voice. But the boy who once fought off bullies for me decided to climb the social ladder by getting engaged to a ruthless corporate heiress, Kassandra Woodard. On their engagement night, Kassandra falsely accused me of ruining her gown. Bowen, my Bowen, publicly whipped me as punishment to appease her family. He told me it was to protect me, a necessary evil. Then he locked me in my room. As the party's fireworks lit up the sky, I smelled smoke. The apartment was on fire, and the door was locked from the outside. Through the flames, I heard Kassandra's voice, "Bowen locked her in. He wanted her out of the way." He didn't just abandon me; he tried to burn me alive. But I survived. And when a broken, guilt-ridden Bowen finally found me years later, begging for forgiveness after destroying the woman who orchestrated it all, I had only one thing to say to him./1/102447/coverorgin.jpg?v=c4674aea82cc93e0619578779adc3d07&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Night He Chose Her
My pregnancy was a high-risk miracle after years of failed IVF. My husband, Aaron, seemed like the perfect partner, driving across town every night for the organic kale I craved. But I soon discovered his nightly "grocery runs" were a cover to visit his dead best friend's sister, Brie. The ultimate betrayal came when I went into early labor. As I was fighting for our child's life, Brie called him threatening suicide. He looked at me, then at his phone, and walked out of the delivery room to save her. I gave birth alone. Our son was stillborn. Aaron returned hours later, not with grief, but with an excuse. "We can have another baby," he said, as if replacing a broken toy. He then announced that Brie, his fragile mistress, would be moving into our home while I was still in the hospital. He truly believed he could have it all: the grieving wife and the mistress waiting at home. But as I looked at the man who chose her over our dying child, the love I had for him died right there. I had a new plan./1/109956/coverorgin.jpg?v=f6f7bd5101ba24d1afe9dfef70862b47&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Billionaire's Deadline Bride
At twenty-three, Adrian Vale inherited a ten-billion-dollar empire... and a ruthless condition in his father's will: Marry before twenty-five - or lose control of Vale Consortium. With only months left, the board pressures him. Investors panic. Political rivals circle. Vanessa Cole is the perfect solution - elegant, connected, and the daughter of a powerful senator. A marriage to her would secure billion-dollar contracts from New York City to London. And then she drops a bombshell. She's pregnant. The media explodes. Headlines declare: Billionaire Heir Secures His Legacy! The board demands an immediate engagement. The public celebrates the "royal" baby. Adrian is stunned. Because he knows something isn't right. Meanwhile, Zara Bello - the only woman who ever loved him before the billions - has disappeared from his life after discovering his secret identity. What Adrian doesn't know is this: Zara is carrying his real child. Alone. Heartbroken. And determined never to beg a billionaire for love. As wedding plans accelerate and Vanessa tightens her grip with staged hospital visits and carefully leaked ultrasound photos, Adrian begins to investigate. What he uncovers is devastating. Fake medical records. Bribed doctors. A calculated plot to trap him into marriage and hand her father control of Vale Consortium. But exposing Vanessa means public humiliation. Stock collapse. Corporate war. And if he's wrong? He destroys the mother of his "child" - and his last chance to keep the empire. Now Adrian must choose: Marry the woman claiming his baby and secure his power... Or risk losing billions to protect the woman secretly carrying his true heir. Because in a world where pregnancy is a weapon and love is a liability- The biggest betrayal isn't in the boardroom. It's in the nursery./1/103855/coverorgin.jpg?v=d9d5da58a55b6a552afdff02568a440d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Debts, My Sweetest Victory
On our eighth anniversary, I found my husband on a tropical beach with his junior employee. A photo on social media showed them with a diamond ring he' d bought with our company' s money, captioned: "Paradise found with my forever love." But the moment he truly broke me was when I told him I was terminating the pregnancy and needed him there. He laughed. "You think I'm going to play along with your pathetic games?" he sneered, before rushing off to comfort his mistress. Later, in the hospital corridor, after I had gone through it all alone, he finally fell to his knees, crying and asking about "our baby." But it was too late. He and his mistress had already killed my child. So I played the part of the grieving wife. While he begged for a second chance, I quietly transferred millions to my name, gathered every last piece of evidence of his affair, and served him the final divorce papers, leaving him with nothing but a mountain of debt./1/100257/coverorgin.jpg?v=c7a8a64bc136386cdbc24ab3b78aa69b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
He Chose Her, I Chose Freedom
My husband, Keaton, and my adopted sister, Kaylene, betrayed me. I discovered Kaylene was pregnant with his child, a calculated move to secure an heir for the shipping empire my family built and he now controlled. He painted me as a cold, career-obsessed wife who couldn't give him a child, turning our mutual decision to wait into a weapon against me. When I confronted them, Keaton promised to handle it, but it was just another lie. His deception ran deeper than I ever imagined. When a violent figure from Keaton' s past emerged, revealing he had used stolen money to marry into my family, Keaton chose to protect his pregnant mistress over me, leaving me to be attacked and seriously injured. He left me bleeding on the floor of an art gallery, choosing to shield the woman carrying his child-a child that, I would later discover, wasn't even his. I faked my own death, escaping to Ireland to start a new life, free from his web of lies. But Keaton, consumed by a twisted obsession after learning the truth, hunted me down. He found me, desperate to reclaim what he had destroyed. "You're mine, Blair," he growled, his eyes filled with a possessive fire. "Always have been, always will be."/0/84144/coverorgin.jpg?v=27c255cdf6d55ee486ce4bdeed8663e0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Burn It All: A Woman Reclaimed
My husband, Ethan, always told me my grandmother' s priceless Martin guitar was "just an old guitar." My heart, a delicate melody, had spent years devoted to his dreams, sacrificing my own. Then, at his startup' s glitzy SXSW party, he gave it away. As a "bonus" to his new intern, Sabrina, a girl barely out of her teens. I watched, helpless, as she fumbled, faked a fall, and the antique wood shattered on the marble floor. Ethan didn't even glance at the rubble. He cradled Sabrina, his eyes cold daggers aimed at me, his "supportive wife." He then called my cherished legacy "just an old guitar," spitting venom that my Bluegrass grandmother was "just some hick musician." My world imploded. That night, the betrayal deepened. His phone, answered by Sabrina' s smug purr, confirmed the affair. "You really need to learn to let things go, Jocelyn," she taunted. The next morning, a frantic call: Sabrina had a severe "anxiety attack" and needed blood from my rare O-negative type. He abducted me, forcing a transfusion, making me miss a life-changing music meeting. Drained and helpless, I discovered a year-long scheme: my designs, my songs, my entire future-all stolen, registered in Sabrina' s name, and now she was calling herself a songwriter. Every piece of my identity, my dreams, twisted into a cruel mockery. How could the man I loved, the partner I built a life with, systematically dismantle my existence with such cold precision? I was erased. But in that sterile clinic room, bleeding from a forced donation for his mistress, a new, chilling resolve began to crystallize within me. They thought they had left me with nothing. They had only given me everything I needed to burn their world to the ground./0/81954/coverorgin.jpg?v=29c3d539e8adc0d947c627cecb599862&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Fiancée Tried To Steal My Fortune
Seven years. That's how long I'd been with Sarah, building a future, planning our wedding. Meeting her parents formally was supposed to be a joyous step, a celebration of us. But at dinner, Sarah casually suggested a terrifying plan: mortgaging or selling the townhouse-the one I paid for-to fund her deceased brother's friend's dubious startup. Her parents enthusiastically agreed, openly admiring the 'visionary' friend, David. They dismissed my shock as "selfishness," accusing me of caring "always about money." Sarah herself rolled her eyes, questioning my "support." Then, they ambushed me at my college, publicly humiliating me with baseless accusations of emotional abuse and fraud. My career, built on years of hard work as an adjunct professor, hung by a thread. How could the woman I loved betray me so utterly for mere convenience and blind family loyalty? Were my life savings, my future, so easily disposable to them? The injustice burned, revealing a deep-seated contempt I never truly saw. I cancelled the wedding, ready to fight for what was mine. But just as her CEO prepared to reprimand me, a sleek black car pulled up, and a quiet man stepped out, about to expose a secret that would shake their world to its core. They had no idea who they were really dealing with./0/85865/coverorgin.jpg?v=e31750504f2000c2cfb83b3db5cb20e9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Wife's Betrayal: Son's Heart, Father's Rage
My life was a perfect picture, painted with my wife Olivia' s fierce love and our son Liam' s bright spirit. Then, a car crash shattered everything, revealing a truth so vile it clawed at my sanity. From my hospital bed, broken and grieving, I overheard the woman I adored, my Olivia, calmly discuss my son' s death as a mere transaction. Liam, our bright-eyed boy, wasn' t gone by accident; he was sacrificed, his heart destined for Mark and Olivia' s hidden child, Lily. The six years of blissful marriage, the grand gestures-they were all a meticulously crafted lie, a performance designed to groom Liam as an unwitting organ donor, and me as a pathetic pawn. My perfect family was a monstrous deception, and their car crash was an execution, my son' s death an assassination. The agony of my injuries paled in comparison to the chilling realization that Olivia had orchestrated a surgery to ensure I could never be a father again. How could the woman I loved, the mother of my child, be a cold-blooded murderer, meticulously planning our demise? My world was obliterated, but from its ruins, a cold, hard resolve ignited within me. If she wanted to play a game, I would play along, and then I would burn her world to the ground./1/103386/coverorgin.jpg?v=9dcd2c0771846d07abd6aac47792ed14&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Blood on the Snow, A Lost Life
On our sixth anniversary, I found my fiancé Carter had given my grandmother's heirloom locket to his "fragile" colleague, Carmen. When I confronted him, he slapped me across the face. He then dragged me out into the snow, forcing me to my knees to apologize to Carmen for upsetting her. The stress and his violence triggered a miscarriage. I was losing our baby right there at his feet. He never even noticed the blood staining the snow. He was too busy comforting the woman he chose over me and our child. I left that night and never looked back. Three years later, after building a new life and a successful bakery, he showed up on my doorstep, a ghost of a man, dying of cancer. He collapsed, coughing up blood at my feet, begging for a forgiveness I no longer had to give./0/83675/coverorgin.jpg?v=2fc465db6db214f7769eb87e5133fbfc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Three Days To Ruin, Three Days To Rise
The last thing I saw was the unforgiving concrete of the Queensboro Bridge, rushing up to meet me. The last thing I heard was the online roar of a digital lynch mob, accusing me of being a fraud, a plagiarist who stole from Madison Clark, the supposed genius. My name is Chloe Evans, a filmmaker, and my short films were my life – until Madison, the newly discovered heiress, started posting crude versions of my work online, always three days before my official releases. Her attacks didn't just ruin my career, bankrupt me with endless lawsuits, and break my spirit with relentless online hate; she did the same to my friends, Leo and Anya, destroying their lives, too. The profound injustice of it all, the betrayal from the foster family who "adopted" me, the public humiliation – it became unbearable. I jumped, seeking an end to the torment. But I didn't hit the water. I gasped awake in my own bed, back in my small Queens apartment, with the screen of my laptop open to the Sundance Film Festival submission page. The date confirmed it: I had been given a second chance. My first life wasn' t a dream; it was a warning. And this time, I could hear Madison' s inner monologue, her terrifying secret: a "System" that let her see three days into the future of creative content. The parasite was doing it again, right now. But this time, I wasn' t walking into her trap. This time, I was going to burn it all down./0/86178/coverorgin.jpg?v=db3e95782253709826f5a0027caf73e8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Jilted Lover's Fierce Comeback
The crisp Stanford acceptance letter felt like a cruel joke in my hands, a ghost from a life that ended in betrayal. I stared through it, past the promises, seeing Chloe and Brooke' s smiles, and the sterile white of the hospital room where my grandmother lay still. I remembered the twisted metal, the rain on my face, and Brooke running-not to me, bleeding on the pavement, but to Zoe, who had a mere scratch. My spirit lingered just long enough to hear their laughter, their celebration of sterilizing me, willing all my assets to Zoe. My life, my love, my trust – all a long, cruel punchline. Reborn into this sunlit room, with the future in my hand, I felt only a cold, clear purpose. Paper tore, then tore again, until the Stanford dream was confetti falling into the trash. Silicon Valley could wait. My phone buzzed with their fake concern: Chloe' s "Love you! 😘" and Brooke' s "So proud of you, Alex." I deleted them without a reply. Their words were poison, and I was finally immune. My grandmother, Susan, found me later, confused about my rejection of Stanford, Google, and Apple. I told her I wanted to stay, to protect her. The next day, whispers of "crazy" and "waste" followed me. Then they walked in: Chloe, Brooke, and the architect of my destruction, Zoe. She looked so plain, but her voice was pure venom, painting herself as the victim, accusing me of arrogance, of having everything handed to me. My fists clenched. Chloe and Brooke, who knew the truth, chose the lie. They weren't my friends. They were my enemies. I walked out. The game was on. This time, I knew the rules. And I was not going to lose./0/83988/coverorgin.jpg?v=f5e34c234ccd15d83690bcb698c37a25&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Billionaire Heiress They Forgot
My first life revolved around Ethan. I was Jennifer Johns, a simple waitress, utterly devoted to my charismatic husband, believing our love was enough. Then came the phone call: a horrific multi-car pile-up. Ethan and his parents were supposedly killed. On his "deathbed," Ethan begged me to raise his infant "sister," Molly. For twenty-five agonizing years, I kept that promise, sacrificing everything. Every cent, every double shift, every dream. I poured my soul into Molly, sending her to Ivy League, ensuring her success. But at Molly' s promotion dinner, Ethan and his parents walked in, alive and well. Molly wasn't his sister; she was his illegitimate daughter groomed for success by me, her unwitting, free nanny. It was all a meticulously crafted lie, a cruel, elaborate scam. Rage blinded me. I lunged, but Ethan shoved me down a flight of stairs. As darkness consumed me, the girl I loved like my own turned her back, embracing her real father. Then my phone shrieked, jolting me awake. The calendar read October 12th. The day of the "accident." This time, I wouldn't be the fool. This time, I would write the ending./0/99319/coverorgin.jpg?v=bbb4eed9d09d931cfd44a8fb2babf87f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Love Built On Silent Lies
For ten years, my world was silent. Bryan was my protector, my voice, my everything, shielding me from a world I couldn't hear after my parents died saving him. But when a new girl, Astrid, arrived and started a cruel war against me, I suddenly regained my hearing-only to discover the horrifying truth. Bryan wasn't my protector; he was the mastermind. "He loves seeing you squirm," Astrid sneered, her voice a venomous whisper I could now hear perfectly. "He told me he gets off on it. He hates your blank face." Their twisted game was to make the "emotionless Elinor" cry. My pain was their entertainment. The boy I trusted, the family I loved-it was all built on a foundation of guilt and deceit. He thought I was a silent, helpless victim he could control. He thought I would endure his betrayal forever. He was wrong. So, I jumped from the third-floor window, orchestrating a public "suicide" to expose their crimes. As the world erupted in chaos and his perfect life shattered, I knew my real story was just beginning./0/30174/coverorgin.jpg?v=cef715ce14bffb4c48b60ad05e901be9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Second Marriage: He's Blind Yet Love Isn't
"Sir, she's not dead yet. Do you want me to run her over again?" "Do it.” The battered and bloodied Rebecca overheard her husband's order and gritted her teeth. The couple had never consummated their marriage, and consequently, they never had a child. However, their childless marriage drove her mother-in-law to accuse Rebecca of being infertile. Now, not only did her husband cheat on her, but he also wanted her dead! He could've just divorced her, but here he was, trying to kill her... Rebecca, who narrowly escaped death, immediately divorced her heartless husband and married again soon after. Her second husband was the most prominent man in the city. She vowed to use his power to her advantage and take revenge on those who had hurt her! Their marriage was supposed to be just a deal beneficial for both of them. Unexpectedly, when the dust settled, her second husband took her hand and pleaded, "Why not stay with me forever?"/1/102448/coverorgin.jpg?v=de8743b58fb1f20901243336f5358b2b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Pity Marriage, My Fierce Comeback
On the eve of my wedding, a viral TikTok revealed my fiancé had married another woman a week ago. When I confronted him, Jacob called it a "pity marriage." He dismissed our seven years together, offered me cash to shut up, and when I refused, he slapped me across the face. "You're the other woman now," he snarled, threatening to ruin me if I spoke out. The worst part? I was pregnant with his child. To break free from this monster, I made a heartbreaking choice and secretly terminated the pregnancy. When you have nothing left to lose, you become unstoppable. Tonight, at the live-streamed Tech Innovators Gala where he plans to accept our award with his new wife, I'm taking the stage. I'm not just taking back my company-I'm burning his entire world to the ground./1/106359/coverorgin.jpg?v=50ebc9478b25266d74d5ca45335eb310&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Billionaire's Neglected Wife Is A Genius
Ellyn woke to a news alert of her husband, billionaire Hardy Burnett, picking up his "mystery blonde" ex at a private terminal. Just hours earlier, he had been raw and consuming in their shared bed, but by morning, he was a cold stranger tossing a birth control pill at her. He reminded her with mechanical indifference that their marriage was a mere contract, and the Burnett family tolerated no accidental risks. The mystery woman was Izabella Macdonald, the one who got away. While Ellyn spent her mornings dabbing heavy concealer over the purple bruises Hardy left on her neck, the rest of the world was celebrating the return of the "rightful" Mrs. Burnett. To Hardy, Ellyn was a liability; to his family, she was a placeholder with a bankrupt bloodline. The humiliation peaked at a high-society gala when Hardy walked in with Izabella on his arm, leaving Ellyn to navigate the vultures alone. His mother mocked her as "cheap polyester," and socialites whispered about the penthouse Hardy was secretly buying for his mistress. Even as Hardy's jealousy flared when he saw Ellyn with his brother, his loyalty remained divided, his heart seemingly anchored to the woman in the white silk dress. The breaking point came in the pouring rain outside the venue. Hardy ordered Ellyn into the backseat of the car like common cargo so that Izabella could take the passenger seat-the seat of the partner. He expected Ellyn to sit in the shadows and watch his ex-girlfriend play wife in the front, treating her presence as a domestic inconvenience he could simply command. I stared at the man who owned my nights but despised my existence. The heavy thud of the pill I swallowed every morning felt like a lead weight, a bitter reminder that I was nothing more than a paid commodity in his eyes. He thought he knew everything about his destitute, dependent wife, from the temperature I needed the room to the way I took my tea. But Hardy didn't know about the encrypted ledgers or the offshore accounts. He didn't know that the "destitute" woman he relegated to the backseat was the secret mastermind behind Skim, the global fashion empire currently worth more than his latest merger. "I'm not getting in," I said, my voice eerily calm against the thunder. I slammed the door, turned my back on his roar of fury, and walked into the dark. It was time to stop being a ghost in his house and start being the woman who could buy his entire world./1/113086/coverorgin.jpg?v=f1a98817125bf7bf8f4e15ced13af38c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
He Chose Her Over Our Child
My world shattered twice. First, the ocean claimed my son. Then, the mountain road took another, a direct sacrifice to the man I loved and the woman he chose. In the hospital, beeps marked the emptiness where my second son used to be, echoing the first loss, both involving Holden and Giana. During the car crash, I was pinned, bleeding, and trapped. Holden, my partner, looked me in the eyes, then chose to save Giana, abandoning me and our unborn child. Soon, I overheard Holden praising Giana for turning our tragedy into a PR win. His hollow apologies and focus on Giana’s "miracle work" reignited the brutal memory of her push and his past denials. A decade of sacrificing my life and two children for a man who saw me as a liability left a bitter taste. His choice was clear; only profound abandonment remained. But this time, I was choosing me. From my profound loss, a dangerous spark ignited: I would not just survive; I would find freedom and make him pay./0/61149/coverorgin.jpg?v=288f0ca617ff2d0e1e018251599cbce8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
