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Modern Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance

Secret Triplets: The Billionaire's Second Chance

I stood at my mother's open grave in the freezing rain, my heels sinking into the mud. The space beside me was empty. My husband, Hilliard Holloway, had promised to cherish me in bad times, but apparently, burying my mother didn't fit into his busy schedule. While the priest's voice droned on, a news alert lit up my phone. It was a livestream of the Metropolitan Charity Gala. There was Hilliard, looking impeccable in a custom tuxedo, with his ex-girlfriend Charla English draped over his arm. The headline read: "Holloway & English: A Power Couple Reunited?" When he finally returned to our penthouse at 2 AM, he didn't come alone-he brought Charla with him. He claimed she'd had a "medical emergency" at the gala and couldn't be left alone. I found a Tiffany diamond necklace on our coffee table meant for her birthday, and a smudge of her signature red lipstick on his collar. When I confronted him, he simply told me to stop being "hysterical" and "acting like a child." He had no idea I was seven months pregnant with his child. He thought so little of my grief that he didn't even bother to craft a convincing lie, laughing with his mistress in our home while I sat in the dark with a shattered heart and a secret life growing inside me. "He doesn't deserve us," I whispered to the darkness. I didn't scream or beg. I simply left a folder on his desk containing signed divorce papers and a forged medical report for a terminated pregnancy. I disappeared into the night, letting him believe he had successfully killed his own legacy through his neglect. Five years later, Hilliard walked into "The Vault," the city's most exclusive underground auction, looking for a broker to manage his estate. He didn't recognize me behind my Venetian mask, but he couldn't ignore the neon pink graffiti on his armored Maybach that read "DEADBEAT." He had no clue that the three brilliant triplets currently hacking his security system were the very children he thought had been erased years ago. This time, I wasn't just a wife in the way; I was the one holding all the cards.
His Unwanted Wife: The Hidden Tech Genius

His Unwanted Wife: The Hidden Tech Genius

For seven years, I hid my MIT Ph.D. and my identity as a top haute couture designer to be the perfect, obedient wife to billionaire Cornelius Lambert. But on our anniversary, while I waited at home with a cold dinner, I found him at a Michelin restaurant with his childhood sweetheart, Halle. My seven-year-old son sat between them, laughing loudly. "Mom is too boring. I wish Aunt Halle was my real mom." Cornelius didn't defend me. He just smiled and affectionately ruffled the boy's hair. When I finally packed my bags and left, I accidentally triggered an old AI robot prototype Cornelius had given me years ago. A hidden recording played his voice from the very night he proposed. "Why marry her? Because she's easy to control. Halle doesn't want to settle down yet, so Cassidy is just a perfect, temporary shield." Later, when I caught them being intimate in a dark parking garage and snapped a photo, Cornelius watched with cold, dead eyes as his massive bodyguard shoved me against a concrete pillar. My arm was torn open, blood dripping onto the floor, as they forced me to delete the evidence of his affair. For seven years, I filed down every sharp edge of my brilliance for a man who saw me as nothing but a pathetic, disposable placeholder. My heart turned to absolute ice. He thought I was just a weak, powerless housewife. But he forgot who he was dealing with. As his luxury car drove away, I pulled up the hidden command terminal on my phone and recovered the encrypted cloud backup of the photos. I looked at my lawyer with a bleeding arm and a cold smile. "Let's go. Now, we have a weapon."
Married To The Undercover Billionaire Boss

Married To The Undercover Billionaire Boss

To escape my sister-in-law selling me off to a local thug, I married a complete stranger I met at City Hall. My new husband, Drake, claimed to be a broke Uber driver who could barely make rent. He even made me sign a brutal ten-page prenup just to ensure I wouldn't take his rusted, beat-up Ford sedan if we ever divorced. I thought I was just sharing a decaying Brooklyn apartment with a struggling man at the bottom of the ladder. But things quickly stopped making sense. When that local thug cornered me at a restaurant, my "weak" husband didn't cower. Instead, he dismantled three massive mobsters in ten seconds with the terrifying, fluid speed of an apex predator. "I used to be a human punching bag in an underground boxing gym to pay off debts." I believed his excuse, until his supposedly homeless grandfather showed up at our door in a moth-eaten sweater, begging to sleep on our lumpy sofa. Before going to sleep, the old man casually pressed a heavy, intricately engraved pocket watch into my hand as a wedding gift. He claimed it was a cheap flea market find that didn't even keep time. But the sheer weight of the solid rose gold and the flawless mechanical gears inside screamed otherwise. Why did a destitute driver have the aura of a man who controlled empires? And what kind of homeless old man casually hands over a priceless, museum-grade antique? I had no idea the "broke driver" sleeping on my floor was actually a ruthless billionaire CEO, and I had just walked straight into his trap.
Substitute Bride For The Comatose Billionaire

Substitute Bride For The Comatose Billionaire

After surviving twenty-one years in a brutal orphanage, I finally returned to my billionaire biological family with the silver pocket watch that proved my identity. But my relatives didn't care about me; they only loved Corie, the fake daughter who had stolen my life after our mothers switched us during a hospital fire. On my very first day home, the family faced total ruin over a thirty billion dollar debt. The creditors demanded a Dunlap daughter marry their comatose, vegetative heir to settle the score. Without a second thought, my grandmother and uncle pointed their fingers at me. They claimed Corie was too delicate and precious to spend her life nursing a corpse with a heartbeat. "You're used to hardship and deprivation," my grandmother sneered, demanding I fulfill my so-called family obligation to save them all. I looked at these strangers who had ignored my existence for two decades, expecting me to sacrifice my future just so a thief could keep enjoying my stolen wealth. They thought they were tossing an unwanted orphan into a living hell. But when I saw the medical file of the comatose heir, a cold thrill ran through my veins. It was Andres Gillespie. The man who had taken my innocence during a mountain storm four years ago, and the secret father of my hidden twins. I calmly set down my coffee cup and smiled at my arrogant family. "I'll do it. I'll marry him."
The Convict Heiress: Marrying The Billionaire

The Convict Heiress: Marrying The Billionaire

The heavy thud of the release stamp was the only goodbye I got from the warden after five years in federal prison. I stepped out into the blinding sun, expecting the same flash of paparazzi bulbs that had seen me dragged away in handcuffs, but there was only a single black limousine idling on the shoulder of the road. Inside sat my mother and sister, clutching champagne and looking at my frayed coat with pure disgust. They didn't offer a welcome home; instead, they tossed a thick legal document onto the table and told me I was dead to the city. "Gavin and I are getting engaged," my sister Mia sneered, flicking a credit card at me like I was a stray dog. "He doesn't need a convict ex-fiancée hanging around." Even after I saved their lives from an armed kidnapping attempt by ramming the attackers off the road, they rewarded me by leaving me stranded in the dirt. When I finally ran into Gavin, the man who had framed me, he pinned me against a wall and threatened to send me back to a cell if I ever dared to show my face at their wedding. They had stolen my biotech research, ruined my name, and let me rot for half a decade while they lived off my brilliance. They thought they had broken me, leaving me with nothing but an expired chapstick and a few old photos in a plastic bag. What they didn't know was that I had spent those five years becoming "Dr. X," a shadow consultant with five hundred million dollars in crypto and a secret that would bring the city to its knees. I wasn't just a victim anymore; I was a weapon, and I was pregnant with the heir they thought they had erased. I walked into the Melton estate and made an offer to the most powerful man in New York. "I'll save your grandfather's life," I told Horatio Melton, staring him down. "But the price is your last name. I'm taking back what's mine, and I'm starting with the man who thinks he's marrying my sister."
Betrayed By Love: The Genius's Revenge

Betrayed By Love: The Genius's Revenge

For three years, nineteen-year-old Ella Campbell rotted in a freezing psychiatric isolation room. Her billionaire family didn't visit her once, only pulling her out today to force her to publicly apologize to Ashlyn, the perfect sister who had framed her. At Ashlyn's glamorous engagement gala, Ella was treated worse than a stray dog and forced to watch her childhood sweetheart propose to her sister. When Ella showed no jealousy, her brother Ivan dragged her onto a dark balcony and nearly choked her to death. Her mother didn't even check if Ella was breathing, merely ordering a makeup artist to paint thick concealer over the dark purple handprints on Ella's neck so the family's stock price wouldn't drop. Standing under the blinding stage lights in a shapeless gray dress, facing three hundred mocking Wall Street executives, Ella was supposed to be the broken, obedient psycho the Campbells needed. "I am deeply sorry for the pain I caused." She was supposed to end the apology there and bow to her abusers, but Ella didn't shed a single tear. "My only regret is that I didn't insist on waiting for the police to arrive that night. I deeply regret that I didn't demand a full, legal toxicology report to prove to everyone exactly what happened." As the ballroom erupted into suspicious whispers and her paralyzed twin brother finally saw the violent bruises hidden beneath her makeup, Ella's counterattack against the Campbell family officially began.