Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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The Ex's Ruthless Revenge
My company, Innovate, was my life' s work, built from the ground up with my boyfriend, Caleb, over ten years. We were college sweethearts, a golden couple, and our biggest deal, a $50 million contract with Apex Ventures, was finally closing. Then, a sudden wave of nausea hit me, and I fainted, only to wake up in a hospital. When I returned to the office, my keycard was denied, my access revoked, and my photo, defaced with an "X," was in the trash. Krystal Schroeder, a young intern Caleb had hired, was sitting at my desk, acting like the new Chief of Operations. She announced loudly that "non-essential personnel" were to stay clear, looking directly at me. Caleb, the man who had promised me the world, stood by, his face cold and indifferent. He dismissed my pregnancy, calling it a distraction, and put me on mandatory leave. I saw a tube of Krystal' s bright red lipstick on Caleb' s desk, the same shade I' d seen on his collar. The pieces clicked: the late nights, the "business dinners," his sudden obsession with his phone-it was all a lie. They had been planning this for months. The man I loved was gone, replaced by a stranger. But I wouldn' t let them take everything. I told Caleb I was leaving, but not without my full share of the company, valued at the post-Apex funding price. I also reminded him that the core algorithm, the one Apex was investing in, was patented in my name alone. I walked out, pulling out my phone to call the one person I never thought I would: Easton Jensen, my fiercest rival./1/107444/coverorgin.jpg?v=a2ab78443987437729b86e91a7bedc0e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
I Am Not Your Pawn Anymore
Barrett handed me a Montblanc pen and a legal document, his voice as cold as the rain lashing against his Tribeca penthouse. He told me to sign an admission of guilt for an SEC violation I never committed. "Eighteen months in prison, Anaya," he said, adjusting his cufflinks without looking at me. "The trust fund is set up. You'll get twenty million dollars the moment you step out." I was being sold. The man I had loved for ten years, the man whose secrets I had kept, was trading my freedom to save his merger with Adele Townsend. He had scrubbed the digital logs of Adele’s illegal trades and pinned everything on me. When I refused, he didn't see my heartbreak; he only saw a malfunction in a business transaction. "Do not speak her name," he hissed when I mentioned Adele’s fraud. "This merger is bigger than you." He forced the pen into my hand, calling me dramatic while his security guards dragged me to a locked bedroom to "cool down." I spent three days parched and starving, listening to the muffled sound of champagne corks popping down the hall. They were celebrating my destruction. My heart finally gave out in that luxury cage, the darkness swallowing me as I realized I was nothing more than a disposable asset to him. I died in that room, alone and betrayed by the person I trusted most. How could he do this? How could a decade of loyalty be worth less than a stock price? Why did I let him treat me like a sacrificial lamb for so long? GASP. I shot up in bed, my lungs burning, but I wasn't in the penthouse. I was in my old, peeling Brooklyn apartment, and the date on my phone was May 12th—three years ago. My phone buzzed with a text from Barrett: "Where are you? Bring the Townsend files. Now." A cold, cruel smile touched my lips as I typed the reply that would start his nightmare. "I quit."/0/81632/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106195655&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Disowned Heir: A Path to Vengeance
My adoptive family always treated me as their golden child, until I stumbled into a dusty storage room at Grandfather Harrison's 90th birthday celebration. There, I found it: my deceased sister Chloe' s SAT score report, showing near-perfect scores that shattered everything our wealthy New England family had ever told me about her "instability." I innocently showed it to my father, expecting pride or explanation. Instead, his face turned a mottled red, my mother's teacup rattled, and Grandfather dramatically collapsed right before my eyes. Within hours, I was disowned, my entire life-my job, my funds, my home-ripped away, leaving me bewildered and clutching the damning piece of paper. The family called me "disrespectful," my uncle called me "ungrateful," and my own mother, without a flicker of warmth, commanded security to "pack Mr. Ethan' s bags immediately." I was thrown out, abandoned, and even brutally assaulted by my father and uncles when I tried to visit my "dying" grandfather in the hospital. Why? Why would a dead girl's academic scores trigger such a violent, absolute betrayal from the people who raised me? My memories of Chloe, fragmented and disturbing, hint at a darker truth. Then, my mother's voice, strained and chilling, revealed the real reason for my grandfather's "stroke": "He was already gone, Ethan. Two weeks ago. It was all a lie." A cold certainty settled in my gut: Chloe's death, my family's obsession with secrecy, and my sudden banishment are all connected to a truth too monstrous to contain. And I, the discarded son, will unearth every single buried secret at my grandfather's sham funeral./0/84135/coverorgin.jpg?v=6613b7473e1b6a7420312d6a57a69b3e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Alibi of Justice
The stale smell of forgotten dreams filled the New York yellow cab as rain blurred the city outside, a scene hauntingly familiar. In my last life, this exact ride took me straight to the Pulitzer jury, to the beginning of my catastrophic downfall. My own daughter, Gabrielle, systematically dismantled my life, using my name and reputation to peddle fake insider trading tips to desperate writers. When her scheme inevitably imploded, she seamlessly shifted blame onto me, painting me as a corrupt public figure, a "whistleblower" feeding lies to the hungry online mob. I lost everything: my esteemed career, my freedom, and ultimately, my life, succumbing to a stress-induced heart attack in a lonely apartment, hounded by strangers and forever disgraced. The betrayal was a cold, bitter knot in my stomach-how could the child I raised inflict such immense pain and ruin? But then, a jolt: I was back in this taxi, on this very day, with the chilling clarity of a second chance. This time, this ride wouldn't lead to my destruction; it would be the first step in my meticulous plan to save myself and dismantle her cruel charade./0/86638/coverorgin.jpg?v=545f0ffe2ce0146ef6e637b915775942&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Wife They Left Behind
For twenty years, I, Sarah Miller, was the devoted wife, mother, and household manager, blindly enduring a marriage crumbling from unspoken resentments. Then, my husband, Mark, casually tossed out my expensive, medical-grade skincare to make room for his golf shoes, while my daughter, Emily, dismissed my distress with a sneer. That day, the dam holding back two decades of swallowed words burst, and I declared, "I want a divorce." They dismissed it as a "dramatic episode," then deliberately excluded me from their first-class seats on a celebratory trip I' d paid for-leaving me to sit alone in economy like a forgotten piece of luggage. My attempt to confront them only led to Mark threatening to have me removed by a flight attendant, followed by my mother-in-law, Brenda' s, veiled venom and physical assault, a constant reminder of their calculated cruelty. The final straw came when, after a seafood dinner they ordered despite my life-threatening allergy, Mark froze my credit card, leaving me stranded and penniless in a foreign country. How could these people, my own family, treat me with such utter contempt and disregard? In that moment of absolute abandonment, a cold fury solidified: I would not beg, I would not yield, and I would not be their victim any longer./0/80537/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106193748&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Placeholder Who Became Queen
Tonight, I, Emily, stood proudly at Ivy Glen Winery’s Annual Harvest Gala. My new Cabernet was launching, the culmination of three years transforming my in-laws' struggling vineyard into a national name as its CEO. Then my husband Kevin walked in, arm-in-arm with Jessica, his visibly pregnant college ex, and snatched the microphone. He slurred, branding me a "placeholder" and firing me, both as CEO and his wife, proclaiming Jessica’s child the "real" Parker heir. A hush fell, then whispers. The crowd, quick to condemn, watched as he offered a measly hundred thousand dollars for my years of effort. Jessica preened, boasting about being the "rightful" Mrs. Parker, reminding everyone I had no formal employment contract. Everything I built seemed to crumble. How could he? After everything I poured into this place, into *us*? To be so casually discarded, so utterly humiliated in front of everyone, felt like a cruel joke. Was I truly just a temporary convenience, a "nobody" without him, as he sneered? With a steady hand, I signed the brutal divorce papers, intending to walk away with nothing but the clothes on my back. But just then, my in-laws, Richard and Susan, stepped forward, and the true bombshell dropped: "Emily is our daughter. Our true blood. The rightful heir to Ivy Glen."/1/105567/coverorgin.jpg?v=9bf948a43985066b25afcac6d778beb7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Billionaire's Stolen Angel: A Painful Return
I was on my knees in the Ohio dirt, frantically scooping wet coffee grounds back into a torn trash bag while my foster mother screamed that I was a useless waste of space. Then, ten black Escalades rolled into our rotting trailer park like a funeral procession, and a woman in silk fell to the mud, sobbing that she had finally found her "Elara." I was whisked away to a mansion that looked like a castle, but the nightmare didn't end with a warm bed and sterilized air. My brother Harlen looked at me with pure disgust, and when he slapped a chicken leg out of my hand at our first dinner, I instinctively dove under the table to eat it off the rug, begging for mercy through my tears. My billionaire father, Arthur, watched in silent agony as I tried to wash my own rags in a gold-plated sink at dawn, terrified that I would be starved if I didn't "earn my keep." He promised me a thousand silk dresses and ordered the trailer park bulldozed to the ground, but I still felt like a prey animal caught by very large, very sad predators. The trauma wasn't a smudge I could wash off; it was a map of cigarette burns and bruises that I was desperate to hide from the family that had spent millions searching for me. Just as I thought I might be safe, a black helicopter banked over the lawn, carrying a medical team and a cold order from my oldest brother, the "Shark" of New York. "No one is ever taking you away," my father growled, shielding me from the men in white coats. But as the rotors shook the windows, I realized that being found was only the beginning of a different kind of war within the Bridges empire./0/80850/coverorgin.jpg?v=d4ae71a59bf37866e838c7f4b9e91beb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Eighteen-Year Lie
For eighteen years, I’ve been told a lie. My husband, Mark, my doctors, even my own parents, convinced me I suffered from a delusional disorder, that my deep ache for a daughter named Emily was just a symptom. They said I only had one child, my sweet son Ethan. Yet, I always felt a part of me was missing. Then, on Ethan’s wedding day, a tarnished silver locket tumbled out from under my bed – the very one I gave my daughter, Emily, for her fifth birthday, the day she vanished. The fog of medication burned away, replaced by searing clarity. Emily was real. Mark had lied. I stormed into the wedding reception, publicly accusing him of murder, of burying Emily under our oak tree. But instead of finding justice, I was dragged away by the police, deemed delusional, and forcibly committed to a psychiatric facility. There, Mark and my parents finally ‘confessed’ a horrifying truth: Emily died in a car crash I caused, and her memory was erased from my mind to ‘protect’ me. Wracked with grief and guilt, I visited Emily’s supposed grave. But how could a daughter I’d barely remembered, who allegedly died eighteen years ago, still whisper ‘Save me’ in my dreams? And why did her headstone, beneath an ancient oak, look… disturbingly new? My bare hands clawed through the earth until they struck wood. The small casket, still pristine. Not decaying, not old. And utterly, horrifyingly empty. Emily isn't dead. My daughter is alive, and Mark, my husband, is a monster. The fight for Emily has just begun./1/104472/coverorgin.jpg?v=3616bd70d6c998e7c91c41c2abdae123&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Runaway Wife: Never Forgiving You
My husband, the Mad Prince of the underworld, once burned down a city block just because a rival looked at me wrong. Now, he forces me to kneel in the freezing New York snow, clad only in thin silk. In his hand, he holds a tablet controlling my comatose brother's life support, threatening to kill him unless I confess to bullying his new mistress. To save my brother, I swallow my pride and confess to a crime I didn't commit. But the stress is too much. I miscarry our child right there, staining the pristine white snow crimson. Dante doesn't even blink. He steps over my bleeding body to comfort his crying mistress, leaving me to scream for our lost baby alone. He thinks he taught me a lesson. He forces me to apologize to the woman who mocked me, even as my stitches tear. He doesn't know that while he was guarding the door to keep doctors out, my brother actually died. He doesn't know I buried the only family I had left in a pauper's grave while he slept with the woman who framed me. On our tenth anniversary, he fills the house with lilies, expecting reconciliation. Instead, I leave the signed divorce papers on the bed, take a handful of grave soil, and vanish into the night. By the time he realizes the truth, I will be a ghost he can never touch again./0/52848/coverorgin.jpg?v=cb9947f8acc62b5a06a071fd8e7dd8dd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
MARRIED AS A REPLACEMENT BRIDE
Sophia Jones a high school graduate who is eighteen years old must give up her freedom and choose a love connection with a billionaire. Refusing to be his wife means exposing a major scandal, allowing a grandfather to pass away, and defaming a prosperous family. After being abducted and married to a total stranger in a church, Sophia Jones must make this decision before it is too late to escape the unexpected. Nicholas Woods, a twenty-five years old bachelor, ruthless and mean, has accomplished a great deal in his life. He is a successor to the several multinational enterprises that Woods operated. His single encounter with a stripper leads to a lawsuit that compels him to marry her. This is even though he is aware of what he wants and can get what he desires. What happens if Sophia were to marry this monster who is out to seek revenge in place of Katerina? Is the road to love paved with drama, or is each step a terrifying nightmare?/1/110104/coverorgin.jpg?v=e5c6511e6ec0fdef2827ddad625849e8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Ex-Wife's Empire: When She Stopped Begging And Started Conquering
After a long trip, I arrived in an unfamiliar city, hoping to celebrate my birthday with my husband and daughter. Instead, they didn't remember the occasion at all. Worse, the two of them were busy preparing a surprise for my half-sister. Throughout our seven years of marriage, I lived far away from my husband and daughter so I could support my husband's career. Over time, the distance gave them the chance to grow close to my half-sister, and the three of them nearly became a real family without me. For the longest time, I believed that if I kept giving everything I had, they would eventually return my devotion with genuine love. Yet the moment the cruel truth destroyed that final shred of hope, I didn't hesitate. I asked for a divorce. Maybe because I spent so many years focused on my family, they had forgotten something important. I was a business prodigy. I refused to keep living as the woman who craved their approval. Even if they came to me on their knees, begging for forgiveness, I wouldn't spare them a second glance. From now on, I would make sure the world saw me in a completely different light./1/112920/coverorgin.jpg?v=d4c6e7f7d7d93ce812f3fb958a9d47c3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Cast-off To The City's Queen
I spent three years making myself small, hiding my sketchbook beneath silk blouses just to keep the peace in a marriage that felt like a museum. Then, Blair came home early, bringing his first love, Keely, into our living room to serve me with divorce papers. He didn't look at me, only at the legal document he’d laid on the glass table like a death warrant for my entire life. He told me to be smart and sign it, while Keely smiled and thanked me for keeping his home and wearing her clothes while she was away. I had been nothing more than a placeholder, a shadow filling the space she’d left behind, and now I was being discarded without a cent or a home. I looked at the Baccarat chandelier and the life I had tried so hard to build, suddenly realizing that I had spent three years desperate for a love that was never on offer. I signed the papers, took nothing but my sketchbook, and walked out into the freezing November rain with three hundred dollars to my name and nowhere to go. I was nothing, I was alone, and I was entirely free. I stood on the corner of the street, shivering in the downpour, and made a desperate, insane gamble when a black car pulled up to the curb. I looked at the stranger behind the tinted glass and asked the only question I had left: "Do you need a wife?"/1/105724/coverorgin.jpg?v=a4d01dc4d8f21e572d6e1f53dfe2ae6a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Love Was Gone
My husband, Rodger Hayes, was a renowned chief negotiator, famous for his integrity and firmness within the circle. When my son and I were kidnapped, with three hostages at the scene, the kidnappers agreed to release only one. Among the women and the boy, Rodger should have chosen to save the boy first. Yet, I heard him saying in Spanish fluently, "Release the woman in white." His first love, Jolene Chapman, was freed, while my son, Jacob Hayes, died from a gunfire. Later, Rodger explained the situation flatly. "The kidnappers chose to release Jolene." I cradled Jacob's ashes and smiled sadly. Rodger didn't know that I was fluent in Spanish, as I had been a special forces member. His lies crumbled before me. My phone vibrated, and I confirmed the encrypted message. "Falcon returns to base."/1/115736/coverorgin.jpg?v=670759d5584d09e9102107a0669eb484&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Divorced Architect's Spectacular Comeback
My husband of three years dragged me into the freezing autumn ocean because my stepsister claimed I bullied her. When she faked a sprained ankle in the shallow water, he immediately abandoned me in the roaring waves to save her, not knowing I was eight weeks pregnant. The icy undertow swept me away, causing a brutal miscarriage. Later in the hospital, my traumatized body started hemorrhaging, and I desperately needed a rare blood transfusion. My stepsister, who shared my blood type, held my life hostage. She forced my husband to sign our divorce papers before she would donate a single drop. By the time the blood reached me, my uterus was irreparably damaged. I permanently lost the right to ever be a mother. "The Anderson family can't have an infertile matriarch." My own parents said this as they falsified my medical records to protect her. And my husband, blinded by his misplaced loyalty, simply walked away, leaving me with a meager settlement. I lost my baby, my fertility, and my marriage all in one week. How could the people I trusted most be so completely heartless? But looking at the divorce papers, I didn't shed a single tear. I calmly signed my name and unsealed my Yale architecture degree. "I'm in. Send me the files for the Manhattan project." The weak, pathetic Mrs. Anderson died on that operating table. Crista Cherry is back, and it's time for them to pay./1/122150/coverorgin.jpg?v=71f617a8501de484c5306db0b17fc544&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Heart He Never Knew How To Love
Ava devoted herself to a marriage where her love and effort were never reciprocated. Even with her heart broken, she refused to lose herself completely, so she filed for divorce to protect the only things she still had: her dignity and her heart. She believed she had finally left the past behind, but Harry, her ex-husband, soon had to confront the mistakes that haunted him... along with the return of the woman he believed was the love of his life. Harry had always taken Ava for granted, but when he was forced to choose between his past and the woman he had failed to value, he realized far too late that losing her might become the greatest regret of his life./0/97433/coverorgin.jpg?v=09e9b04c715796b0000dd62a81e6ce68&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The CEO's Ex-wife Has Multiple Identities
Anna Hendrick experienced the devastating loss of a pregnancy. Her decade-long devotion to Ethan Smith led her to abandon her university studies in her second year to become his wife. For three years, she dedicated herself to their marriage, working tirelessly. Only the discovery of a clandestine document revealed the painful truth: she was simply a pawn in Ethan's elaborate game with his first love, his cherished Becca Drew. In the sterile confines of a hospital room, after hearing of Ethan's romantic getaway with Becca, Anna initiated divorce proceedings. The formerly underestimated housewife underwent a dramatic metamorphosis. She blossomed into a sought-after designer for a prestigious jewelry house; the exclusive tutor of a globally renowned pianist; a formidable racing champion; the esteemed daughter of the Minister of Foreign Affairs; and the powerful CEO of a publicly traded company valued at billions... As Anna's admirers multiplied, Ethan began to pursue her with persistent and unwanted attention. Exasperated and seeking respite, Anna simply disappeared from his reach./0/86639/coverorgin.jpg?v=ef5cc72b08781db3fa07eec15496db5a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn: A Husband's Vengeful Love
The last thing I remembered was the freezing cold of a lonely alley, the bitter taste of cheap whiskey, and the image of a newspaper: a glossy photo of my ex-wife, Sarah, and her new husband, Mark Thompson, cradling their perfect baby. My final breath fogged in the winter air as I died with the brutal truth ringing in my mind. I had failed them-my son, Leo, and my mother, Susan, both lying in fresh graves, victims of Sarah' s abandonment and my naive loyalty. For four years, I toiled, clinging to her empty promises, while they withered away from neglect and poverty in our crumbling home. I' d even sold a kidney to save them, but the money came too late; my mother starved, and Leo succumbed to a preventable fever. At their funeral, Sarah returned not to mourn, but to accuse, to divorce, and to flaunt her new life with Mark-a life built on our ruins. Then, a sharp, ragged gasp tore through me. I wasn' t in an alley, but on the cold, splintered floorboards of my own bedroom, the air thick with the scent of sickness. My heart hammered as I saw them: my mother, Susan, frail but breathing, and Leo, flushed with fever but alive, nestled in his crib. A quick glance at the calendar confirmed it: three days before their deaths. The raw grief, fused with a cold, hard rage, ignited a fire in my gut. No more silence. No more waiting. "Mom," I declared, my voice steady, "We' re leaving. We' re going to find Sarah." I had a second chance, and this time, I wouldn' t just survive; I would make them pay./0/51910/coverorgin.jpg?v=def62821e0eb37de2668582fcd6b11d5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Two-Faced Lady Who Stole My Heart
After years away, Emma went back to her biological family, expecting a warm welcome. Instead, she found herself arranged to marry Ricky, known for his grumpiness and rumored disability, rather than her adopted sister taking that role. Ricky wasn't happy about the arrangement. "You can stay if you wish, but you'll only be my son's nanny," he coldly stated. Despite his unwelcoming attitude, Emma stood her ground. "Ricky, I've chosen you, and I'm not changing my mind." As time passed, Ricky's hostility softened as he started to develop feelings for Emma, slowly uncovering a secret. What was Emma's true identity? A CEO, a hacker, a musical prodigy, a racer... Then, one day, Emma, puzzled, asked, "Ricky, why does your son keep looking more and more like me?"/1/120586/coverorgin.jpg?v=3b50ab1671d7025bc03a112eb37c2749&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Broke Husband Is A Hidden Tycoon
For ten years, I was nothing but an ATM for my abusive adoptive family. To buy my freedom, I agreed to a bizarre marriage of convenience with a complete stranger in exchange for a $150,000 dowry. I threw the check at my greedy adoptive parents, severed all ties, and walked out, thinking my nightmare was finally over. But my new husband, Aidan, dragged me to a shabby, run-down apartment in Brooklyn, claiming he was just a struggling freelancer. He looked at me with pure disgust, utterly convinced I was a shameless gold digger, and openly mocked my secret career as a romance novelist. "What is it, a how-to guide for marrying rich?" He treated me like a parasite, yet he threw tantrums over instant ramen and wore luxurious silk pajamas that cost more than our rent. To make matters worse, my adoptive brother Leo, who harbored a dark, obsessive desire for me because we shared no blood, was actively hunting me down. I felt completely trapped. I didn't understand why my biological parents had abandoned me to the Kowalskis' hell in the first place. And I understood even less why my supposedly broke husband would casually slap down an exclusive, solid black credit card at Target when I couldn't afford our groceries. Who exactly was the man I had married? Realizing my new husband was hiding a massive secret and my obsessive brother was closing in, I refused to be a victim again. I was going to uncover Aidan's true identity, and this time, I would be the one writing the rules./1/104473/coverorgin.jpg?v=4b6a768286227681ccae41e84c20355e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
