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Modern Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
The Unwanted Orphan: Now A Zillionaire Heiress

The Unwanted Orphan: Now A Zillionaire Heiress

Endowed with a billion-dollar fortune, Ira Lopez, the state's top-secret foster daughter groomed from childhood, was finally assigned a set of legal guardians! Unexpectedly, she was sent away by three families in a row, and every social kinship training ended in total failure. It was not until the Vaughn family adopted her that the poor little Ira was showered with endless money day and night by her adoptive parents, who put on elaborate displays of doting parental affection for her. Envious people lost their minds and spread vicious rumors: "Ira Lopez has no real skills at all-she's just faking misfortune to swindle the Vaughns!" Yet the very next day, a president of an Ivy League university greeted her personally: "Professor Ira, your laboratory is fully furnished and ready for use." The richest tycoon knelt down and held out a contract: "Boss, our annual financial report shows a 300% surge in profits!" The international hacker alliance erupted in panic online: "Our supreme leader! If you don't log back on soon, the global financial systems will collapse!" As Ira's countless hidden identities were exposed one after another and the entire internet went wild, Barrett Ferguson, the notoriously cold, ruthless elite newcomer of the capital city, suddenly pinned her against a wall. He brushed the pad of his thumb gently over her lips and drawled, "Mrs. Ferguson, had your fun? It's time to come home and bear our children." Ira's ear tips blushed bright red as she stammered, "I-I don't want to have kids!" The man let out a low chuckle, pulled out the world's one-of-a-kind supreme black card, and pressed it into her palm: "Give me one child, and I'll gift you a private island."
Transmigrated: The Bankrupt CEO's Unexpected Wife

Transmigrated: The Bankrupt CEO's Unexpected Wife

I woke up with a splitting headache in a trashed penthouse, surrounded by empty liquor bottles and discarded Hermes boxes. A quick glance at the morning newspaper confirmed my worst nightmare: I had transmigrated into the novel 'The CEO's Tender Vow'. Worse, I was the villain's vain, useless wife, right at the exact moment his tech empire completely collapsed. The original owner of this body had just attempted suicide because her husband went bankrupt. When my cold, exhausted husband, Alek Holden, walked through the door, he threw a divorce agreement and a bank card with a pitifully low balance onto the kitchen counter. He coldly warned me that his creditors would be at the door any minute. Meanwhile, my toxic ex-boyfriend was already waiting downstairs, publicly mocking Alek's downfall and offering to make me his mistress. In the original plot, taking that money and running with the ex led to a miserable, tragic death. I stared at the thick stack of divorce papers. I knew Alek was the ruthless villain who would eventually claw his way back to power and brutally destroy everyone who abandoned him. There was no way I was going to play the role of the shallow, doomed ex-wife and wait to be crushed. I looked Alek right in the eyes, grabbed the agreement, and ripped it right down the middle until it was nothing but useless shreds. "The marriage vows said for richer or for poorer. I am staying to help you rebuild."
Pregnant And Fleeing The Ruthless Billionaire

Pregnant And Fleeing The Ruthless Billionaire

For five years, Jodi was the perfect, compliant secret lover to billionaire CEO Armand Taylor. Then, she woke up to a cold email and a seven-figure wire transfer. Armand was marrying European royalty. The money was a severance package to quietly warehouse her out of sight. Refusing to be his dirty secret, Jodi invoked her contract's termination clause to leave for good. But Armand wouldn't let her go easily. He forced her to personally train her vicious new replacement, Selah. Selah immediately tampered with a crucial financial file, framing Jodi for sabotaging Taylor Corp's multi-billion-dollar tech acquisition. Without a second thought, Armand took the new girl's side. He cornered Jodi in the boardroom, his eyes dead and cold. "You have three days to fix this. If you fail, I will personally see to it that you go to prison for corporate fraud." He froze her bank accounts and stripped away her dignity, ready to destroy her life over a blatant lie. He thought she was just a weak, discarded toy who would break under his threats. What Armand didn't know was the terrifying secret Jodi had just discovered hidden at the bottom of her bathroom trash can. Three positive pregnancy tests. If the ruthless billionaire found out she was carrying his heir, he would never let her escape. Wiping her tears, Jodi slipped into a severe black silk gown and crashed an exclusive Hamptons gala to intercept the tech CEO herself. This time, she wasn't playing the obedient lover. She was going to clear her name and burn Armand's empire to the ground.
One Pregnancy, Three Secrets: He Begs for Remarriage

One Pregnancy, Three Secrets: He Begs for Remarriage

I signed the divorce papers to end my two-year loveless marriage to billionaire Julian Sinclair. Hours later, I found out I was pregnant-with triplets. Then my family's company was raided. Our assets were frozen. And I was violently kidnapped off the streets of Manhattan. For six months, I was locked in a damp underground clinic, chained to a cold metal bed. When labor came, there were no painkillers. No help. Just agony. I delivered three babies. But before I could even hold my sons, Julian's mistress, Kaila Walker, walked in with a smile. She reached past the doctor and took my strongest boy-my firstborn-right out of his hands. "He's my ticket to the Sinclair fortune," she said. "You were just the incubator." Then she locked the door and left me to bleed out in the dark with my two remaining children. I didn't understand the cruelty. Why destroy my family? Why steal my son? Why bury me alive just so she could take my place beside a man who had already thrown me away like garbage? But as I looked at my two fragile, sleeping babies in the dim light, my tears dried up. The despair turned to something colder. Sharper. A predator's rage. Five years later, I stepped off a private jet in New York-no longer the discarded wife. I reclaimed my family's pharmaceutical empire as CEO. I built an army in silence. And when I saw Julian and Kaila smiling on the financial news, I calmly turned off the screen. It was time to get my son back. And burn their perfect world to the ground.
The Reborn Heiress's Vow Of Vengeance

The Reborn Heiress's Vow Of Vengeance

The clerk handed me the pen to sign my marriage certificate. But as the gold nib hovered over the paper, a brutal reality tore through my mind. I remembered how my life ended. My perfect fiancé, Blaine, and my best friend, Jazmin, had murdered me. In a cold hospital room, Blaine's hands—the same ones now resting on my back—had twisted my ventilator tube, suffocating me. Jazmin had stood beside him, smiling like a razor cut, mocking how much I loved him. They were just waiting for me to die so they could swallow my family's three hundred million dollar fortune and steal the tech company I built from scratch. I had adored him for three years, only to die with my lungs burning and my vision fading to black, betrayed by the two people I trusted most. Why was I so blind to their greed? Opening my eyes, I wasn't in a hospital bed. I was back at City Hall, and Blaine was looking at me with that perfectly loving, fake smile. I dropped the pen and knocked my chair over. "Don't touch me!" I screamed, fleeing into the Manhattan traffic. When a billionaire's luxury car hit me on the street, I didn't panic. I saw my perfect alibi. Lying in the VIP hospital ward, surrounded by my powerful family, I looked at Blaine's desperate face and put on the performance of a lifetime. "I don't know you," I whispered, shrinking away in fake terror. In my last life, I was their prey. This time, playing the amnesiac victim, I am going to destroy them.
Apocalypse Rebirth: Reclaiming My Infinite Space

Apocalypse Rebirth: Reclaiming My Infinite Space

I thought the Burch family gave me a loving home when they took me out of the orphanage. But when the global deep freeze apocalypse hit, my adoptive parents mercilessly kicked me out of the bunker to freeze to death. As I lay dying in the snow, covered in horrific purple frostbite, my adoptive sister Kendal walked past me in a pristine designer jacket. Around her neck was my only childhood possession—an antique gold necklace my adoptive mother had ripped off my neck to give to her. Kendal gloated, bragging that my pendant held a magical space with infinite supplies and fresh food while the rest of the world starved. I realized I had spent years emptying my life savings to fund their luxury cars and fake medical emergencies. They had drained my bank accounts, stolen my bloodline's heirloom, and used my magical lifeline to live like royalty while leaving me to die. I took my last ragged breath in that blinding blizzard, consumed by a toxic hatred. Why was I so hopelessly weak? Why did I let them take everything from me? Opening my eyes again, the painful frostbite scars were gone. My skin was warm. I grabbed my phone. The screen lit up: November 12. It was exactly three days before the world ended. When my adoptive mother called, faking a tearful emergency to demand another thirty thousand dollars, I smiled coldly. "Just tell me where to send the money, Mom." This time, I'm taking my space back, and I'm going to drain them dry.
The Billionaire's Secret Triplets: Mom's Revenge

The Billionaire's Secret Triplets: Mom's Revenge

Six years ago, I was a naive girl sold by my father to the powerful Sanders estate, only to be tossed onto the streets after a brutal assault they labeled "marital infidelity." I fled the country pregnant and broken, hiding from the shadow of a husband I had never even met. Now, I've returned to New York with my triplets to sign the final divorce papers and disappear forever. But Archibald Sanders-the man I was told was a crippled recluse-intercepted us with the cold precision of a predator. He didn't see the woman his family destroyed; he saw a gold-digger who had shamed his name. His security team hunted us to a grimy motel, using tactical force to snatch my children away and drag me to his glass-walled empire. In his office, he loomed over me, demanding a DNA test and threatening to throw me in prison while my babies were lost to the foster system. He was convinced I'd cheated, yet he stared at my sons with a haunting confusion, unable to ignore the stormy blue eyes that were a perfect mirror of his own. I stood there, paralyzed by his scent-the sharp tang of rain and expensive leather that triggered the icy dread of my worst nightmares. How could he accuse me of betrayal when he felt exactly like the monster who had shattered my life in that dark hotel room? "I'll sign anything," I sobbed, "just give me my kids." But the game changed when my five-year-old son hacked the tower's security, holding the skyscraper hostage to save me. In the chaos, a fragile, silent boy-Archibald's secret son-wandered into the room and reached for me as if I were his missing soul. Archibald's face turned to stone as he tore up the agreement and locked the doors. "Until I find out why my son is looking at you like that," he growled, "you aren't going anywhere."
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.