Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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Stalked By The Mad Dog Nephew
For years, I played the role of the fragile, fading wife in the Garrison dynasty, a "little doll" who looked like she’d break if the wind blew too hard. My husband, Augustus, treated me like a piece of inconvenient furniture, while his volatile nephew, Brandon, stalked me like a predator in the shadows. Everything shattered during a family brunch when Augustus’s mistress, Gilda, lounged in his shirt and announced she was pregnant with the Garrison heir. Instead of hiding his shame, my husband beamed with pride and slid a thick manila envelope across the table in front of his gloating parents. "We need to make room for the family, Avery," he said coldly, "and you’re barren." His mother laughed, calling me a "worthless asset" who provided no value to the lineage. They offered me fifty million dollars to disappear—a pathetic pittance for a man worth over four billion. I let a single, perfect tear fall, playing the part of the defeated, broken woman they all expected me to be. They didn't see the cold calculation behind my watery eyes or know that I had spent three years documenting every illegal insider trade and offshore account Augustus owned. I didn't just sign the papers; I walked into the final settlement meeting in a sharp black suit and shredded their offer in front of their faces. I demanded two billion dollars in cash and controlling voting shares, threatening to hand the SEC the evidence that would send Augustus to federal prison for life. As he lunged at me in a blind rage, realization dawning that he had underestimated me, I leaned in and whispered the final blow. I told him about the box of condoms in his nightstand and the silver needle I used to ensure Gilda got pregnant. "I gave you exactly what you wanted, Augustus," I smiled as I walked out with half his empire. "And in exchange, I got my freedom."/1/115572/coverorgin.jpg?v=0579b1f348c3ce8ab461d297e12899c5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Shattered Vows: Ruining My Billionaire Ex-Husband
Fiona spent three years in a concrete cell, taking the fall for a hit-and-run accident caused by her billionaire husband's mistress. When she finally got out and returned home, she found him throwing a lavish party, with the mistress on his arm wearing a gown Fiona had designed. Even worse, her own seven-year-old son pointed at her in disgust. "Go away, bad woman!" Her husband Cecil threw her out like a stray dog. To force her into submission, he trashed her belongings and cut off the life-saving medical funding for her mentor. Driven to desperation, Fiona snuck back into the mansion to retrieve her late mother's sapphire necklace. But the mistress caught her, ripped her own clothes, and screamed that Fiona was trying to kill her. Cecil didn't even hesitate. He violently shoved Fiona backward. Her head smashed against the sharp edge of a mahogany desk, and blood immediately poured into her eyes. Lying in a pool of her own blood, Fiona watched the man she had sacrificed her freedom for wrap his arms protectively around the woman who ruined her life. He looked at her with pure, murderous disgust, as if she were the monster. But Fiona didn't cry. Instead, a cold smile crept onto her face as her bloody thumb secretly pressed the emergency SOS button on her phone, snapping a clear photo of him standing over her shattered body. "My husband just violently attacked me. I am bleeding from the head. I need help." The police were already on their way. It was time to burn his empire to the ground./1/114477/coverorgin.jpg?v=5be0764e4a44f76264aa21d0ac719ba9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Late For His Regret Now
For three years, I, Aubrey, had poured my heart into serving Kieran and his mother, Jeanie. I cooked, cleaned, and endured Jeanie's sharp insults and Kieran's quiet neglect, all while believing I was his fiancée, building a future for us after sacrificing my own professional dreams. This illusion shattered one night when I overheard Jeanie tell Kieran he needed to marry "Carolina" for her family's money, coldly dismissing me as a "free nanny" and a "temporary substitute." Later, I discovered Kieran's phone, unlocked with the password of our anniversary date, filled with six months of intimate texts from Carolina, plans for a bridal fitting, and a cruel group chat with Jeanie plotting my departure. Lying in bed beside him as he texted his true fiancée, the betrayal was a suffocating weight. The last shred of warmth I held for him vanished, replaced by a cold, metallic resolve. The next morning, I calmly photographed every damning piece of evidence. I dug out my dusty CPA textbooks, wiping away three years of neglect, and registered for the exam I’d abandoned for him. My ambition, long buried alive, was suddenly breathing again. It was time to reclaim my life. I would not just leave; I would dismantle everything they built. Watch me burn this house down./1/101180/coverorgin.jpg?v=11f2e9d9e61a68ce51d9fa06677f2b3a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Heart's Last, Bitter Goodbye
The doctor told me I had weeks to live. But the real death sentence was seeing my fiancé's hand slip into my best friend's outside the hospital room. They thought I didn't see. They had already turned my little brother against me, the boy I raised. He called her "Mom" now. At their engagement party, held in my house and paid for with my money, he looked me in the eye. "I hate you!" My own family praised her for being a "natural mother," while the world celebrated their love story. They saw a weak, dying woman, too broken to fight back. They thought they had won. So I gave them everything they wanted-my company, my fortune, my blessing. But I also left behind one final gift, a dead woman's last words. When I die, they will inherit my empire, but they will be forever branded by a legacy of eternal shame./0/87883/coverorgin.jpg?v=698070f1eed3a639b4d169d65e422abb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Thirty-Eight Divorces, One Betrayal
Today is my fifth wedding anniversary. It's also the day my husband, Ethan, asked me for a divorce for the 38th time. He does this for Ilene, his childhood friend. The woman who crashed her car on our wedding day, leaving her unable to have children. Ever since, he's been repaying a debt of guilt, and I've been the price. For five years, I endured the cycle of divorce and remarriage. But this time was different. Ilene pushed me down a flight of stairs. Ethan found me bleeding and promised me justice. He swore he would make her pay. But days later, the police called. The security footage of the incident had been mysteriously erased. There was no evidence, no case. That night, Ilene had me kidnapped. As her men tore at my clothes in the back of a van, I managed to call Ethan. He rejected my call. I jumped from the moving van. And as I ran for my life, bleeding on the cold asphalt, I made a vow. This time, there would be no 39th remarriage. This time, I would disappear./1/114321/coverorgin.jpg?v=210d6d35fbfd379e8fb3480249a5bc4a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Ruthless Billionaire's Rare Captive Rose
Alexa Thorne was just an eighteen-year-old girl trying to survive her wealthy friend's sweltering summer pool party. But a violent asthma attack, triggered by heavy cigar smoke, forced her to confront the man smoking it—Armando Holmes, a ruthless Wall Street billionaire and her friend's older brother. She begged him to put it out. He complied, but his cold gaze instantly shifted into a terrifying, predatory obsession. From that moment, her quiet life was over. Armando cornered her in a dark hallway, staking a terrifying claim. He forced her into his Bentley, practically kidnapping her to his secluded Hamptons estate, a gilded cage he called the Rose Manor. When he offered her a dark rose and declared his "enchantment," the sheer terror finally made Alexa run. But she tripped, tumbling down the hard stone steps, breaking her arm and severely gashing her face. Waking up in the hospital, facing the horror of a permanent, ugly scar, Alexa wept in sheer despair. She didn't understand why this dangerous, powerful man had targeted her, tearing her away from her modest life just to lock her in his terrifying grip. "I swear to you, you will not have a single scar." Armando vowed, his eyes burning with dark possession as he effortlessly dismissed her own brother's attempts to protect her. As he personally tended to her most humiliating needs with trembling hands, Alexa realized with chilling clarity: the real nightmare wasn't the fall, but the inescapable, obsessive love of the monster who had claimed her./1/108220/coverorgin.jpg?v=bd3265a6ff37ac5b2fd7ae1adb340f67&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Fake Heiress: Captured By Her Warden
I was a ghost in the rafters of Sotheby’s, five floors above the most expensive pavement in New York, clutching a ten-million-dollar ledger hidden inside a drop of blood-red agate. I had the perfect exit planned, but I didn't count on Harding Bishop, a security predator who could track a shadow through a rainstorm. When the exits were sealed and the tactical teams started swarming, I made a split-second choice to survive. I stepped out of the shadows and looked into the eyes of a billionaire socialite searching for her missing daughter, whispering a single, broken word: "Mom?" Just like that, I wasn't a thief anymore; I was Cassandra Sterling, the heiress who had been gone for five years. But the homecoming was a nightmare. My new "sister" promised to send me back to the gutter, my "father" held a gold-plated pistol to my knee the moment the limo doors closed, and the family patriarch tried to strike me down with his cane just for breathing his air. Every second was a high-wire act. I had to play the part of a traumatized victim while a ten-million-dollar stone was literally sewn into the raw, bleeding wound on my shoulder. If I moved wrong, I’d bleed out; if I spoke wrong, I’d be buried in the backyard of the Hamptons estate. Harding Bishop didn't believe a word of it. He moved into the room next to mine, watching my every breath and checking my hands for gun calluses under the guise of protection. He thinks he’s the warden and I’m his prisoner, but he’s about to find out that a cornered rat is the most dangerous thing in the house. "Sleep tight, Vesper," he whispered as he locked my door, using my real name for the first time. He thinks he’s won, but he has no idea that I’m already reaching for the Agate hidden under my pillow, ready to burn his empire to the ground./1/111036/coverorgin.jpg?v=7c0246d505884131d48aa1f79af4c013&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Wrong contract marriage, right husband
My boyfriend publicly announced his relationship with my stepsister, and I immediately decided to break up with him. However, in order to control the trust fund, I had to enter into a contractual marriage with someone. But I never imagined that my marriage partner would be impersonated. The billionaire's long-hidden crush. Someone asked me why Alexander Sterling was ultimately able to stand by my side. He said, "Because I both fight and rob."/0/81313/coverorgin.jpg?v=2a2b1e683d1affb497b22db8cba8d618&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Shamed by Design: The Heiress's Reckoning
My roasted turkey usually brings me joy, but this Thanksgiving, it turned my stomach. My stepsister, Brittany, had cornered my husband, Richard, and was practically living at our house. Knowing my daughter Sophie' s severe nut allergy, I carefully asked Brittany if her son, Leo, had any, before serving my pecan pie. "None at all, Amy. He loves nuts," she lied, smiling sweetly. Minutes later, Leo was gasping, turning blue. Richard rounded on me, his face a mask of fury. "You did this! You knew he couldn' t have nuts!" he roared, shoving pie into my mouth as the guests stared. The public humiliation was just the beginning. My home became a battleground, my husband a stranger. He dismissed my concerns about another nut-laced cookie, leading to our precious Sophie' s near-fatal allergic reaction. But instead of remorse, he jetted off to Aspen with Brittany and Leo, flaunting their "healing trip" on social media while Sophie lay in a hospital bed. Every tag, every beaming photo was a fresh stab, painting me as the villain, the negligent mother, the crazy ex-wife. I endured the whispers, the stares, the viral video portraying me as a monster. My world crumbled, and I felt utterly alone, trapped in a nightmare created by the very people who were supposed to love me. The injustice was unbearable. How could I have been so blind? How could they destroy me so easily? Then, when I was at my lowest, a miracle. My lawyer uncovered a massive, hidden trust fund – fifty million dollars my stepmother had stolen from me. That was when something inside me snapped. Tonight, at Richard' s award gala, they expect me to apologize, to publicly grovel. But I will not break. Tonight, I claim my freedom and burn their perfect lies to the ground. This isn' t an apology; it' s my reclamation./0/85224/coverorgin.jpg?v=c5155bbeca1b7970af1369793d236362&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Her Heart’s Silent Divorce
The two pink lines on the pregnancy test felt like a dream. I sat on the bathtub' s edge, clutching the little plastic stick, my heart pounding with a strange, unsteady rhythm. Pregnant. After years of being told it might never happen, here it was. A wave of warm, fragile hope bloomed in my chest. A baby. Mine and Liam' s. But then my phone buzzed with a family group chat message: "Big news everyone. Sarah' s coming home." Sarah. My stepsister. Ethan' s biological sister. The one who had abandoned our family-and Liam-years ago without a word. The fragile warmth in my chest turned to ice. I crept downstairs, stopping just out of sight. Liam and Ethan were eager, buzzing with excitement, planning a welcome-home party for her. Then Ethan asked, "What about Chloe?" Liam sighed, a long, tired sound. "She' ll be fine. She' s always been… sensitive." Ethan' s voice, dismissive, felt like a physical blow. "Yeah, but Sarah is her stepsister. Chloe has always been a bit jealous of her, you know? She' s going to make it awkward." "We' ll just have to manage her," Liam replied, firm. "Sarah is the priority right now. She' s family, Ethan. The real family. Chloe will just have to understand." The real family. Their words echoed in the silent space where my heart used to be. I was nothing but a problem to be managed, an obstacle to their happiness. In that single, devastating moment, a decision formed in my mind, cold and clear as glass. I could not bring a child into this. I would not subject another human being to a life of being second-best, of being an afterthought. I buried the pregnancy test deep in the trash. Later, Liam smiled, oblivious. "It' ll be like old times. The family will finally be whole again." He didn' t see me. He never had. I was just a stand-in, a placeholder for the real thing. And now, the real thing was back. My decision solidified into a cold, hard resolve: I wasn' t just getting rid of the baby. I was getting rid of all of it. Him. Ethan. This house. This life that was never truly mine./0/39388/coverorgin.jpg?v=577f3c30b5c194d3127a7068a5bf8a09&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Twins love
Huh?" Bella got a bit confused. "You asked a question, I answered it, you are welcome" Mia pointed her index fingers upwards and bent it towards herself. "Oh, it was a rhetorical question." Mia looked down in disappointment after she noticed the way Grace and Juliet stared at her. "I guess I will leave you girls to handle your own problems. Bye Mia" Bella waved Mia bye. "Bye" innocent Mia replied. "Seriously Mia, can't you tell the difference between when you are supposed to talk and when you aren't"/1/102745/coverorgin.jpg?v=35750423562dee36348d8744e9323d1d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Betrayal, Her Bitter Freedom
To save my dying mother, I had to remarry my cheating ex-husband, Braden. He was the only surgeon in the country who could perform the life-saving surgery she needed, so I swallowed my pride and walked back into our gilded cage. But on the day of the operation, he abandoned her. He left my mother to die on the table for a "personal emergency"-a flat tire with his mistress, Angelina. When my grief turned to rage, he didn't just dismiss my pain. He used his power to have me declared mentally unstable, bribing doctors and having me dragged away to a psychiatric hospital to silence me forever. Trapped in a padded cell, stripped of my dignity and my sanity, I realized he had taken everything. My mother, my freedom, my name. The love I once felt for him had curdled into a cold, sharp resolve. After I escaped, I didn't run into the night. I walked straight into the national medical awards gala where he was being celebrated, ready to burn his perfect life to the ground on live television./1/115260/coverorgin.jpg?v=0ed8dbc65db03a0bc7d627e5ec86ebf7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn From Ashes: The Vengeful Socialite's Return
Estrella Ward gave five years of her life to her husband, draining her trust fund to save him from bankruptcy and raising his son as her own. But one night, she woke up in a freezing hotel room, drugged, with a stranger's bite marks on her skin. Her husband burst through the door with cameras, his vicious family, and her ten-year-old stepson, publicly framing her as a cheating whore. The horrifying truth soon surfaced: her husband had drugged her himself, selling her body to his Wall Street boss to secure a senior partnership. Estrella fought back with hidden security footage, blackmailing him into submission after discovering she was pregnant with his boss's child. But fate dealt a cruel blow. She was diagnosed with aggressive, terminal breast cancer. She refused to abort the baby to keep her leverage, but the cancer spread too fast. She died alone in a cold hospital room, her vengeance unfinished, while her husband and his cruel family celebrated. They thought they had successfully buried her and her secrets forever, escaping unpunished for destroying her life. But when she gasped for air and opened her eyes again, she wasn't in a cold grave. She was in a sterile hospital bed, looking at the perfectly manicured hands of Brooklyn Thompson—the notorious, empty-headed socialite everyone despised. Estrella's soul had survived the abyss. "You're going to pay for every drop of blood." She clenched her new fists, the fire of her vengeance burning brighter than ever./0/83034/coverorgin.jpg?v=9e2480a53ec325bf2fcfc44c04a854f5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
When Lies Crash
The captain' s voice sliced through the cabin' s quiet hum, a familiar prelude to disaster. My husband, Alex, was at the controls, announcing an abrupt diversion from Los Angeles to New York. His reason? A 'medical emergency' for his dearest friend, Brittany, compelling us to land in Denver. My blood ran cold; this wasn't just déjà vu, it was my nightmare from a past life replaying, detail for excruciating detail. Last time, Alex' s toxic obsession with Brittany hijacked this very flight, making a cross-country journey hostage to his personal drama. He callously ignored a genuine onboard emergency-a stroke suffered by actor Julian Knight-despite my desperate pleas as a paramedic to land immediately. Alex' s reckless refusal led to Brittany' s 'emergency' being exposed as a self-inflicted sham, yet he still twisted everything. He systematically demolished my career and reputation, blaming me for every consequence and shamelessly claiming credit for the life-saving work I' d done. And when he was finally done breaking me, he staged a car accident, murdering me. I still felt the metallic crunch, the searing pain, followed by consuming darkness. Yet here I was, resurrected, seated on this precise flight, hearing his voice again. The chilling echo of 'Denver. Brittany.' consumed my thoughts, a stark reminder that I was reliving my end. But not this time. There would be no begging, no pleading, no quiet acceptance of victimhood. Alex Carter was about to meet an Evie Hayes he didn't kill, an Evie Hayes ready to fight./1/105561/coverorgin.jpg?v=15078c0c1dc48daebd9af48c17b00404&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Billionaire's Cruel Secret Contract Marriage Deal
Imogen lived her life as a servant in her own home, scrubbing floors for foster parents who treated her existence like a bad debt. Her only escape was a hidden sketchbook filled with architectural designs, a secret world she kept tucked away in a utility closet. The nightmare peaked when her foster father tried to sell her to her abusive ex-boyfriend for five thousand dollars. When she refused, he drew blood with a slap and threw her into a midnight storm, threatening to burn her passport and birth certificate if she ever returned. Drenched and terrified, she accidentally dove into a luxury sedan instead of her Uber. She fled the mysterious, cold-eyed passenger in a panic, but she left her suitcase behind—taking her clothes, her ID, and her life's work with it. The next morning, she went to meet a "dentist" for a forced marriage arrangement, only to find the man from the car waiting for her. He claimed he was just a low-level IT guy, offering her a marriage contract to help her recover her documents and escape her family's reach. She didn't understand why a simple coder handled her violent ex with such brutal, practiced efficiency. She didn't know why he looked at her sketches like they were worth millions, but with forty dollars in her pocket and a bruised face, she agreed to be his "business partner" wife. The lie collapsed during a nursing shift at a VIP hospital wing. She walked into a room to find her "IT guy" standing there in a thousand-dollar suit, looking every bit the billionaire heir he’d sworn he wasn't. "Grandma," Gael said, pulling Imogen against him as he faced the matriarch of the Fuller empire. "This isn't just the nurse. This is Imogen, my fiancée." Trapped in his arms, Imogen realized she hadn't found a way out. She had just traded her foster family’s basement for a billionaire’s golden cage./1/114478/coverorgin.jpg?v=f8a932816c6fc6028c17ec3001d863e3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
More Than His Partner, She's Queen
For five years, I was Ashton Miller's invisible partner, his loyal fiancée, pouring my life into building his empire from the shadows. Tonight, the Bronze Deer exhibition, my masterpiece, was finally opening at the Met, a testament to our shared future. Then, Bianca, a third-tier actress, stepped into the spotlight in *my* custom Vera Wang wedding dress. My blood ran cold as Ashton's arm circled her waist, his whispered words promising to make her the "new queen of the city." Five years of trust and sacrifice crumbled. I was a blood bag, drained and discarded. When I publicly exposed their lies, Ashton cornered me backstage, his face twisted in fury, threatening to ruin me, to blacklist me forever. I ripped off his engagement ring, tossing it at his chest. "We're done," I said, walking out as his enraged screams echoed. The man whose empire I secretly built called me a parasite, his mistress feigning tears, painting me as delusional. My guilt vanished, replaced by freezing, absolute hatred for the man who twisted reality to erase my existence. Standing in the New York rain, I finally pulled out the military-grade encrypted phone hidden for five years. The line clicked open instantly, a low, gravelly voice asking, "Is it you?" Before I could answer, Archer's voice hardened: "Give me the location. I'll be there in ten minutes. Who touched you? I want his life."/0/82252/coverorgin.jpg?v=253b36607c5a22190f7ab8f1815fafbe&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Cold-blooded Arch Nemesis Is Suddenly Obsessed With Me
"After seven blind years with Joshua, Daniela caught him pampering his new flame just weeks before the vows. Disgust sharpened her resolve. On their wedding morning she strode down the aisle, tore off her ring, and called it quits. The arrogant Clark family rushed to sneer-until three formidable Stewart brothers stepped in. The eldest's voice was ice. ""Your empire is about to implode."" The second vowed ruin for anyone who dared bruise his sister. The youngest flashed a sly grin. ""Watch and learn what true power looks like."" The Clarks were left regretting their actions, while Daniela melted into her arch nemesis's arms. ""Take me home, hon."/1/115886/coverorgin.jpg?v=3d36ee132cdf211eb7907b096c019b55&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Late, Billionaire: The Doctor's Comeback
Aimee sat in the sprawling Manhattan penthouse, waiting for her billionaire boyfriend to return from a business trip. Then a breaking news notification popped up. It was a paparazzi photo of Hamilton holding a prominent socialite, announcing their upcoming corporate marriage. The medical records Aimee saw confirmed the worst: the woman was already twelve weeks pregnant with his child. When confronted, Hamilton didn't show a single ounce of guilt. He casually dismissed the baby as a mere "business arrangement" required by his family. He pinned Aimee against the wall and threatened to completely destroy her medical career. He swore to cut off her research funding, blackball her from every hospital in the city, and force her to live in the slums if she dared to walk away. He even sent his assistant with a Cartier diamond necklace, fully expecting her to accept the bribe and quietly play the role of his obedient mistress. Aimee felt a thick wave of nausea. She couldn't believe the man she had loved for years saw her as nothing more than a clueless toy whose dignity could be bought with filthy money. She took off his platinum necklace and placed his limitless black credit card on the marble vanity. "I would rather dig through the trash than spend another day as your pet bird." Aimee packed her faded medical scrubs into her old canvas suitcase and walked out into the freezing night, heading straight for the chaotic front lines of a public ER./0/81157/coverorgin.jpg?v=c0182a83bec72ac4940ce08411fea9fc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Project Chimera's Reckoning
My wife, Jessica, and I built NovaTech Solutions from the ground up. I was the tech genius, the lead architect for our most critical DoD contract, Project Chimera. Our life seemed perfect. Then came the call: Jessica had a minor car accident. Her memory loss was selective, remembering board members but not our anniversary. She started bringing her young, flashy intern, Kevin, everywhere, claiming he was "helping her remember." One night, I came home early and overheard them. "This amnesia thing is working perfectly," Kevin smirked. My brilliant, beautiful wife laughed, "Of course, sweetie. You'll have my undivided attention. He' ll be gone, and the company will be ours." My blood ran cold. The woman I loved had orchestrated this elaborate lie to steal everything I built. The next morning, at an all-hands meeting, she publicly humiliated me, calling my professional arrangement "unclear," and demanded I resign, handing over Project Chimera to Kevin. Everyone watched as I calmly signed the termination papers. Then, looking her in the eye, I said, "Jessica, I want a divorce." They thought they had won. They thought I would crawl back. But as I walked away, leaving my company, my home, and the woman I thought I knew, a chilling resolve settled in. I wouldn't just disappear; I would stand back and watch the inevitable consequences of their betrayal unfold. Their victory was only the beginning of their true downfall./0/53937/coverorgin.jpg?v=20240315003443&imageMogr2/format/webp)
