Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
/1/105651/coverorgin.jpg?v=6fbbe5887f46e13cd3647d54ec1ed002&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Fall From Grace, Rise To Reign
For six years, Lainey devoted herself to Jeremy, earning only ridicule from their social circle. Everything changed when she overheard him tell his lover, "She's nothing but a lapdog." Heartbroken, Lainey found solace with a supposed escort. People thought it was a ploy to win Jeremy back, but Lainey only scoffed. "He's just a housekeeper's son faking his status. Without me, he's nothing." Then everyone realized she was the real powerhouse, owning both elite society and the underworld. Jeremy begged in vain; Lainey never looked back. Her new man, supposedly a gigolo but secretly high society's elite, kissed her before Jeremy. "Your ex is pathetic."/0/40025/coverorgin.jpg?v=f6ca7f3c1fb521949838b99ddd9375c0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Mistaken Marriage, Unexpected Love
It was a big day for Camilla. She looked forward to marrying her handsome groom. Unfortunately, he abandoned her at the altar. He never showed up throughout the wedding. She was made a laughingstock in front of all the guests. In a fit of rage, she went and slept with a strange man on her wedding night. It was supposed to be a one-night stand. To her dismay, the man refused to let her be. He pestered her like she had stolen his heart on that night. Camilla didn't know what to do. Should she give him a chance? Or just stay away from men?/1/114025/coverorgin.jpg?v=f43619e7fbccba05ee0f5276a9bc9a3c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Broken Mother's Ruthless Revenge
My little boy died on the operating table during a minor, routine surgery. That exact same night, my billionaire husband bought out the Hudson River for a massive, million-dollar fireworks show. It wasn't to mourn our child. It was to celebrate his first love's son being discharged from the hospital. When I confronted him with our son's death certificate, he sneered and accused me of hiding the boy to get his attention. He held his mistress in our home, watched her fake a panic attack, and threatened to bankrupt my family if I didn't get on my knees and apologize to her. But the most horrifying truth came from a terrified hospital nurse. My son's anesthesia was deliberately kept low during the procedure to keep his tissue viable to save the mistress's child. He was awake and in agonizing pain while his own father planned a grand celebration for another man's son. I couldn't understand how a father could be so completely heartless. How could he sacrifice his own flesh and blood just to please a woman who constantly manipulated him? Looking at the ashes on my son's favorite toy, my paralyzing grief evaporated, replaced by a cold, unyielding rage. I arranged my little boy's funeral alone in the freezing rain, left my wedding ring on the counter, and walked straight into the private hotel suite of my husband's most ruthless business rival. "Let's take him down," I said./1/115981/coverorgin.jpg?v=5c6b9337bc98b30036d9467c410d2ca6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Take My Fiancé, I Take The Empire
Eleanor Sinclair always knew her stepmother and stepsister were leeches, but she never expected their betrayal to reach into her private study. In the dead of night, she caught the family's trusted nanny of twelve years photographing confidential trust documents. The mastermind paying her off was Lillian, Eleanor's stepmother, who had been secretly embezzling estate funds and bribing tutors to deliberately ruin the academic future of Eleanor's younger brother, the only legitimate heir. Emboldened by their deceit, the parasites grew arrogant. Her stepsister, Isabelle, deliberately flaunted her secret affair with Eleanor’s billionaire fiancé, sobbing fake tears while waiting for Eleanor to suffer a humiliating nervous breakdown. When the tension finally peaked, Lillian played the victim so perfectly that Eleanor's own father, a powerful U.S. Senator, stormed into the room with a raised hand, ready to strike his own daughter. "You will apologize to your stepsister immediately! I will not have this family harmony destroyed by your petty jealousy!" They actually expected her to be a weeping, heartbroken girl. They thought cheap hotel affairs and stolen pennies could outsmart the true Sinclair bloodline. Did they really believe a few fake tears and a weak-willed father could strip her of her empire? Eleanor didn't feel anger; she felt the cold, detached fascination of a biologist observing doomed insects. She calmly pulled out the forensic audits, locked down the estate's exits, and prepared her stepmother's psychiatric commitment papers. The merciless purge of her family had officially begun./1/105827/coverorgin.jpg?v=2e728f52b80f0c253276a6f61a582ec4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Surgeon's Revenge: No More Mrs. Montgomery
I’m a top surgeon at Mount Sinai, but at 432 Park Avenue, I’m just the invisible "placeholder wife" of Fletcher Montgomery. After three months of silence, I didn’t hear from my husband; I found out he was back in New York via a news alert tracking his private jet. When he finally walked into our penthouse, he didn't bring a greeting—he brought the scent of another woman’s perfume and a heart full of ice. He looked at me with pure revulsion, telling me he was "tired of looking at mistakes" before slamming the bedroom door in my face. The humiliation escalated the next morning when his mother cornered me with a divorce agreement, calling our seven-year marriage a "charity project" that had run its course. She reminded me I was a "peasant" who owed the Montgomerys for saving my reputation, even as I spent my days saving lives in the OR. At a family dinner on Long Island, Fletcher turned our private struggle into a public execution. In front of his entire elite clan, he sneered that I should stop fixing other people’s hearts and figure out why my own womb was a "wasteland." When I tried to defend myself, he dragged me into his car, only to kick me out on a dark, rain-slicked street in Queens. I stood there shivering in a thin blouse, without a phone or shoes, watching his taillights disappear while a group of men whistled at me from the shadows. I couldn't understand how seven years of devotion ended with me barefoot in the mud, or why the man I once loved now treated me like a stray he regretted picking up. The injustice burned hotter than the freezing rain, fueling a cold, surgical rage I hadn't felt in years. I eventually made it back to the penthouse, but I wasn't the submissive wife anymore. I rescued my cat from the freezing terrace, fired the malicious house manager, and deadbolted the master suite from the inside. When Fletcher’s assistant called, I gave him a simple message: "Tell him the locks have changed, and the war has officially begun."/1/104682/coverorgin.jpg?v=2438ba9222836b1aaef7057ccb930b0f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Mad Billionaire's Genius Undercover Wife
I arrived at my uncle’s mansion looking like human trash, clutching a one-way bus ticket and a duffel bag stuffed with old newspaper. My aunt looked at me with pure disgust, as if she could smell the poverty on my skin, but they needed me for one thing: to be a sacrificial lamb. They told me I was getting married to Julian Sterling, a man the elite circles called a violent monster locked in a cage. My uncle forced me to sign away my soul to save their failing fortune, while my cousin Kayla laughed and threw a torn dress at my feet, calling me a "rat from the Rust Belt." At the Sterling estate, the nightmare only deepened. Julian’s stepmother treated me like a horse she was forced to buy, ordering the staff to "burn off" my hair before locking me in the West Wing. I was thrown into a padded cell with a man who lunged at me, his heavy chains rattling against the floor as he roared with an animalistic rage that had already killed two nurses. They thought I was a pathetic, uneducated girl who "didn't read so good." They didn't know I had extorted two million dollars from my uncle before walking out the door, or that I was secretly recording every slap and insult they threw at me for future leverage. I huddled in the corner of that dark cell, letting them watch me tremble on the security feeds. I let Julian’s sister strike me with a riding crop and splash water in my face, playing the role of the clumsy, sobbing idiot to perfection. But the moment the cameras looped, the scared girl vanished. I pinned the "monster" to the floor, cut the neural tracking chip out of his neck with a hidden scalpel, and whispered into his ear as his blue eyes finally cleared. They thought they were sending a lamb to the slaughter. They had no idea they were sending a wolf to hunt a beast./1/107844/coverorgin.jpg?v=373fef407ba575864060c53c12b2887b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Acceptable Service: Tipping The Ruthless Billionaire
I woke up in a penthouse suite at the Pierre with a hangover from hell and a naked man who looked like he'd been carved from marble. Thinking he was a high-end escort I couldn't afford, I left my last hundred dollars and a petty note on the nightstand. "Service was acceptable. Keep the change." But when I rushed home to check on my dying father, I found the locks changed and my boyfriend, Chad, draped over my stepsister on the landing. My stepmother, Meredith, didn't even look up from her coffee as she handed me a legal folder. She told me to sign away my inheritance or she'd stop paying for my father's life support. The hospital called seconds later, demanding fifty thousand dollars by the end of the day, or they'd pull the plug. Meredith had already arranged my "payment": a dinner with Boris Gorsky, a predator who collected young women like trophies. I was being sold to a monster to keep my father alive, standing in a thrift-store dress while my family laughed at my ruin. I didn't understand how my life had collapsed in twelve hours, or how my own blood could put a price tag on a man's life. I sat at that restaurant trembling, waiting for the man who would buy my soul. Then the man from the hotel walked in. It wasn't Gorsky; it was August Sanders, the billionaire CEO of a media empire, and he was holding my hundred-dollar bill. He didn't want an apology; he wanted a contract wife for a year. He slid a confirmation for a five-hundred-thousand-dollar hospital deposit across the table and handed me a fountain pen. "Welcome to the firm, Mrs. Sanders." I signed the paper with a shaking hand, knowing I was trading my freedom for my father's life. But as August handed me his black card, I realized I finally had the weapon I needed to destroy the people who thought I was nothing./0/63681/coverorgin.jpg?v=0aa171772555702763c6c4706e35c548&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Forgotten True Heiress Strikes Back
Jennifer Bennett, the rightful heiress to the Bennett legacy, fought hard for her family's recognition, only to be eclipsed by an impostor. Faced with false accusations, bullying, and public humiliation, Jennifer eventually gave up trying to win their approval. Vowing to rise above the injustice, she became the bane of those who wronged her. The Bennett family's efforts to break her only fueled her success, leading her to heights her rivals could only dream of. Someone asked, "Do you feel let down by your parents?" With a calm smile, Jennifer said, "It doesn't matter. In the end, power prevails."/1/103410/coverorgin.jpg?v=d8830d0ba6194ee66e8f8f538b3c5bd7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Slander To Stardom: All Eyes On The Unlikely Heiress
On their wedding anniversary, Emma saw her husband holding a pregnant woman in his arms. The man who once promised her forever spoke without emotion. "She's pregnant. Let's get a divorce." With her mother-in-law and the mistress scheming together, Emma cut all ties and left without a second glance. After the divorce, she shed the image of a plain homemaker. Genius doctor, jewelry designer, secret hacker, lost heiress-Emma stunned all as she reclaimed her life. Her ex begged for another chance, but Emma, now holding the richest man's hand, simply smiled. "Who are you again?"/0/93752/coverorgin.jpg?v=d2780e8800454180875226695a5cf200&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Priceless Diva Who Left His World In Ruins
Her ex-husband declared, "The person I admired most was that legendary racer." She smiled thinly. "Hate to break it to you-that was me." He said, "Jealous I blew a fortune on a world-famous jeweler for Violet?" She let out a cool laugh. "Funny, that designer trained under me." He scoffed, "Buying a dying firm won't put you in my league. Snap out of it." She shrugged. "Weird-I just steered your company off a cliff." Stunned, he blurted out, "Baby, come back. I'll love you forever." She wrinkled her nose. "Hard pass. Keep your cheap love." Then she took a mogul's arm and never looked back./0/97465/coverorgin.jpg?v=c44b67b8937ee7a24c7b40a15378f1be&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Bound By Vows, Sealed In Love
After a year apart, Iris caught her husband, Caden, in what looked like an affair and made up her mind to file for divorce. Caden pinned her to the wall, his breath warm, his tone lazy and cold. "Divorce? Fine. But didn't we agree to have a child? Give me one, then we're done-assuming you can keep me interested long enough to want one. Until then, don't count on it." And so began her desperate, humiliating journey to get pregnant-not out of love, but for freedom. Later, the man who never begged cracked first, voice wrecked with tears. "Forget the kid. Just don't leave me."/1/114279/coverorgin.jpg?v=99e441d4d2023648623281ac8c7ddaab&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Divorced And Penniless: The Billionaire's Secret Heir
On their seventh wedding anniversary, Kiley's billionaire husband, Aden, slid a thick stack of papers across the restaurant table. It was a petition for divorce. He was leaving her for his college sweetheart. Thanks to a ruthless prenup, Kiley was being thrown out with absolutely nothing. That very night, their young son Jules was rushed to the ER, bleeding profusely. The doctor's diagnosis was a death sentence: acute leukemia. When Kiley frantically called Aden for help, he dismissed the emergency as a simple nosebleed. "I'm not paying for this. Deal with it," Aden sneered, the sound of his mistress giggling in the background. To force Kiley to sign the divorce papers, Aden froze all her credit cards and canceled their son's health insurance. He refused to pay a single cent for the chemotherapy. Even Kiley's adoptive parents sided with the wealthy Aden, calling her a burden and telling her to stop fighting him. Driven to the brink of despair, with a dying child and no money, Kiley didn't understand how a father could be so monstrous to his own flesh and blood. Until a news article on a friend's phone caught her eye. It featured a fallen 9/11 firefighter hero from the ultra-wealthy Whitfield family. The man in the photo looked exactly like Jules, down to the very bone structure. Kiley's mind raced back to the fertility clinic and the anonymous sperm donor. Could this dead billionaire hero be her son's biological father? Looking at her sleeping, fragile boy, Kiley wiped her tears and crushed the divorce papers in her hand. She was going to find the Whitfield family, save her son, and make Aden lose everything he held dear./1/107835/coverorgin.jpg?v=01bd40d2404827780433eeb6fe4e04d8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Fiancé Married Me To His Brother
To the world, I was Delia Fitzgerald, the spoiled, vacuous daughter of the South's wealthiest family. But behind the practiced pout and expensive stilettos, I was a sleeper agent, a shadow trained for war. The mask cracked the night my fiancé, Ansel Gibson, dumped me in the rain. He didn't just break the engagement; he recoiled in physical disgust, claiming that the very sight of me made him physically ill. When I returned home, I expected my father to be furious about the failed business merger. Instead, I found him paralyzed by a primal terror I had never seen. It wasn't about the money; it was about a "blood debt" and a mysterious parchment that held our family's lives in the balance. "You will go to the Gibsons and beg for forgiveness," my father rasped, his hands shaking uncontrollably. "If this contract is broken, there will be blood." My own brothers, men who usually ruled the city, could only watch in grim silence. I realized then that I wasn't a daughter to them-I was currency, a lamb being led to the slaughter to pay for a secret I didn't even know existed. I didn't understand why the Gibsons were so obsessed with me, or why Killian Gibson-the family's true monster-was suddenly tracking my every move with a predatory smile. He traced the callouses on my hands, marks from thousands of rounds of gunfire that no debutante should have, and whispered that he wanted me where he could see me. If they wanted a pawn, they picked the wrong girl. I decided to stop running and walked straight into the lion's den, accepting a job as Killian's "Chief Special Assistant." I was going to find that parchment and tear their world apart from the inside. The game had officially begun, and this time, the "Baby Girl" was the one holding the knife./1/108217/coverorgin.jpg?v=4f15e3e125e328929caa5a41ebb4f69d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Quiet Wife Is An Elite Genius
I was the ultimate trophy wife, a polished ornament in Francisco Zimmerman’s billionaire empire. For three years, I perfected the "Zimmerman Wife Smile," playing the role of the devoted partner while smoothing the Egyptian cotton of his shirts. The illusion shattered when I stood outside his study and heard him laughing with his mistress, Annalise. "She’s just a vase that only knows how to smile," Francisco’s voice was cold, devoid of any warmth. "As long as I pay the maintenance fees on time, she stays obedient." I walked out that night with nothing but a canvas bag and the clothes on my back. But Francisco wasn't finished with his "asset." He froze my bank accounts and used his massive influence to blacklist me from every interior design firm in New York. He tracked my phone, watching me struggle from the shadows, waiting for me to starve so I would crawl back to his mansion. He even showed up at the dive bar where I was playing piano for rent money, mocking my desperation. "You have technique, but no heart," he sneered, tossing a silver coin into my tip jar as if I were a beggar. "You're hollow, Iris. Just like your pride." I couldn't believe this was the same man whose life I had saved during a bloody night in Macau. To him, I wasn't a wife; I was a stock price that needed stabilizing. The more I fought for my independence, the tighter he pulled the net, determined to break my spirit until I had no choice but to return to his gilded cage. Then, the morning sickness hit. I realized I wasn't just carrying my own life anymore—I was carrying his heir. If Francisco found out, he would never let us go; he would turn my child into another "performance bonus" for his brand. Looking at the sonogram, I knew a divorce would never be enough to escape a man who thought he owned the world. "I'm not going back," I whispered, staring at his yacht moored in the harbor. "To save this baby, Iris Potter has to die."/1/113469/coverorgin.jpg?v=155df3d444debc4bebdc4c2f1a5ec300&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn with 10 Billion to Conquer the Apocalypse
She has thirty days. Ten billion dollars. And a quantum space that can swallow anything. Kinsey Elliott died cold, starving, and betrayed—pushed into a frozen abyss by the uncle who stole her fortune. Then she woke up. Back in her penthouse. Back in her perfect body. Back with a silver mark on her wrist that lets her store entire warehouses of supplies in a dimension where time stands still. The world has thirty days until a global ice age freezes everything. Her family has thirty days to try to lock her away, steal her money, and have her killed. And Kinsey? She has thirty days to turn ten billion dollars into an invisible fortress—and burn every last one of them to the ground. She's not surviving the apocalypse. She's building it./0/99731/coverorgin.jpg?v=1ab75bbcaa41f3e59a6f82181f16c24f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Chained To The Cold CEO: Why Won't My Husband Let Me Leave?
Everyone whispered about how Alexander's aunt had forced him into marrying Freya. When the old woman passed and his former love drifted back into town, people watched closely and expected Freya to be brushed aside. Freya shrugged. "Truth be told, I am eager for that day to come." They mocked her for it. Yet everything flipped when Alexander posted something that spread like wildfire. "For everyone asking, I am not ending this marriage. Not now, not ever." Freya stared at the screen, puzzled. What was he trying to pull now?/1/105385/coverorgin.jpg?v=98094d31b6193bed95e5af507a66aec1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Secret Genius Ex-Wife's Cold Revenge
I spent three years playing the role of the perfect, invisible wife to Dillard Bentley, the billionaire heir of Manhattan. While he graced the tabloids with socialites, I stayed in the shadows of our penthouse, waiting for a man who treated me like a piece of furniture. One rainy night, the facade finally shattered. Dillard came home smelling of another woman’s perfume, and I handed him the divorce papers he never expected. But before the ink could dry, a violent pain ripped through me during a family lunch, and I collapsed in a pool of blood on the pristine marble floor. While I was being rushed to the hospital, Dillard’s mother dismissed my agony as a manipulative trick, and Dillard chose to believe her. He didn't follow the ambulance; he went to a gala to protect his mistress instead. I woke up in a cold emergency room only to be told I had lost the baby I didn't even know I was carrying. Because of the toxic "vitamins" his mother had been force-feeding me, my blood wouldn't clot, and I had to undergo surgery without a single drop of anesthesia. I bit down on a leather strap, feeling every agonizing scrape as they cleared the remains of my child, while my husband laughed at my pain over the phone. "Stop the drama, Erica. Tell her the divorce terms are non-negotiable. I'm busy." He hung up, leaving me to scream in silence. I realized then that the man I had once loved was the same man who let his family poison me. The "vitamins" weren't supplements; they were a death sentence for my unborn child, and he didn't even care enough to show up. Dillard thinks he’s divorcing a penniless nobody, but he’s about to find out that the world-renowned medical genius he’s desperate to recruit is the wife he left to bleed alone. I walked out of that hospital, threw my wedding ring in the trash, and reclaimed my true identity. Dr. N is coming to the global summit, and I’m not there to save the Bentley empire—I’m there to burn it to the ground./1/104381/coverorgin.jpg?v=d85514dcc9835e82d3a4ef319f0a1629&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Mute Heiress's Fake Marriage Pact
I was finally brought back to the billionaire Vance estate after years in the grimy foster system, but the luxury Lincoln felt more like a funeral procession. My biological family didn't welcome me with open arms; they looked at me like a stain on a silk shirt. They thought I was a "defective" mute with cognitive delays, a spare part to be traded away. Within hours of my arrival, my father decided to sell me to Julian Thorne, a bitter, paralyzed heir, just to secure a corporate merger. My sister Tiffany treated me like trash, whispering for me to "go back to the gutter" before pouring red wine over my dress in front of Manhattan's elite. When a drunk cousin tried to lay hands on me at the engagement gala, my grandmother didn't protect me-she raised her silver-topped cane to strike my face for "embarrassing the family." They called me a sacrificial lamb, laughing as they signed the prenuptial agreement that stripped me of my freedom. They had no idea I was E-11, the underground hacker-artist the world was obsessed with, or that I had already breached their private servers. I found the hidden medical records-blood types A, A, and B-a biological impossibility that proved my "parents" were harboring a scandal that could ruin them. Why bring me back just to discard me again? And why was Julian Thorne, the man supposedly bound to a wheelchair, secretly running miles at dawn on his private estate? Standing in the middle of the ballroom, I didn't plead for mercy. I used a text-to-speech app to broadcast a cold, synthetic threat: "I have the records, Richard. Do you want me to explain genetics to the press, or should we leave quietly?" With the "paralyzed" billionaire as my unexpected accomplice, I walked out of the Vance house and into a much more dangerous game./0/54072/coverorgin.jpg?v=55b682a2ffd6706cdb24095b57ab705a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Shrouded Affections: Winning Back My CEO Wife
For two years, Bryan only saw Eileen as an assistant. She needed money for her mother's treatment, and he thought she'd never leave because of it. To him, it seemed fair to offer her financial help in exchange for sex. However, Bryan didn't expect to fall for her. Eileen confronted him, "You love someone else, yet you always sleep with me? You're despicable!" The moment she slammed the divorce papers down, he realized she was the the mysterious wife he married six years ago. Determined to win her back, Bryan lavished her with affection. When others mocked her origins, he gave her all his wealth, happy to be the supportive husband. Now a celebrated CEO, Eileen had everything, but Bryan found himself lost in another whirlwind.../1/114988/coverorgin.jpg?v=86a240f051c68541688fcab2d98fd28f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
