Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: Watch Me Shine
I spent a whole year trying to melt my billionaire husband's icy heart, carefully planning our grand wedding reception. Then a trending news alert popped up: Augustine was spotted at the airport, intimately holding his childhood sweetheart, Bianca. When I frantically called him, he declined it and sent a cold text. "Don't call." At the family estate, he didn't even acknowledge my existence. Instead, he announced that our wedding reception was canceled. "Bianca and I discussed it," he stated flatly, as if she were the real wife. His aristocratic family just sneered at me. His aunt called me a classless gold digger, and his grandmother demanded I endure the humiliation to protect their public image. They even moved Bianca into our penthouse, redecorating the suite for her while I was barred from his office. For a year, I gave up my career and dreams, desperately molding myself into the perfect Mrs. Rhodes. I thought my devotion would eventually earn his respect, but to them, I was just a pathetic, temporary replacement keeping the seat warm. When I saw he had completely blocked me on social media, erasing me with a single click, my heart finally died. I didn't cry or beg for his affection anymore. I packed my bags, walked out of that suffocating gilded cage, and sent him a simple text. "Let's get a divorce." I am done playing the tragic clown. This time, I'm taking my life back./0/82915/coverorgin.jpg?v=b40fa8f3ba1012d576dd2afe23c6c050&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Son She Sacrificed
I worked three grueling jobs, every aching muscle and burning eye for my son, Noah. He had a rare blood disorder, his medical bills a relentless mountain. I sacrificed everything, even my late father' s cherished guitar and took out predatory loans, just for Noah' s life-saving transplant. My wife, Chloe, seemed to struggle alongside me, always talking of bad investments and financial woes. Then, one delivery took me to a swanky charity gala. Inside, I saw her. Chloe. Radiant in a shimmering blue dress, laughing freely with Julian Thorne, a distinguished, wealthy art collector. This wasn' t my struggling artist wife; she was a stranger brimming with effortless wealth. Days later, a mysterious USB drive revealed the horrifying truth. On video, Chloe laughed with Julian, admitting our "struggle" was a five-year "test." She spoke of Noah, our dying son, as an "inconvenience," even hinting his marrow could be "fortuitously" diverted to Julian' s nephew, Alex. I clung to hope, but Chloe herself, Noah' s own mother, redirected his life-saving transplant to Alex. Noah died. My world imploded. Every sacrifice, every tear, every ounce of love was nothing but a pawn in their sick game. How could the woman I loved, his own mother, be capable of such monstrous, calculated cruelty? How could she condemn our child to death for a "test," for a wealthy man's convenience? The truth shattered me; I collapsed, consumed by grief and unfathomable betrayal. I woke up in a hospital, broken but not defeated. With Dr. Olivia Ramirez's unwavering support, I slowly healed. When Chloe offered "family money" and suggested "another child," I saw her true, empty remorse. She could never pay for the life she took, nor mend the love she destroyed. Now, alongside Olivia, I channel my unending grief for Noah into "Noah's Light," a foundation helping children like him. This is my path forward, a legacy for Noah, a future she' ll never touch./0/85418/coverorgin.jpg?v=25fc4a68874c5478a6598f1ebabc15e9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Unexpected Husband, Unexpected Freedom Won
The green blur of the NYSE ticker board was moments from displaying NexusAI, the culmination of my life' s work. But then, Richard Sterling, my notorious former mentor, appeared, demanding I put his scandalous son, Julian, on my board, or he' d tank my IPO. This was the ninth time; a product launch, a funding round, all held hostage at the last critical second, his network ready to poison the well. He left me stranded, just as a tech gossip headline flashed: "My favorite tech genius is about to get married to her project. So heartbroken!" Liam, my rival and the source of the quote, was my last resort. Fifteen minutes and a frantic blur of rerouted documents later, the bell rang, and 'NexusAI' flashed on the board-with Liam as my new, impromptu partner. We barely made it, securing my freedom from Richard's tyrannical grasp, or so I thought. Later, in his car, Richard attempted to reassert control, offering me exclusive gifts as a transactional "peace offering," a ritual I knew far too well. Then came the sinister news: Julian' s fiancée, Isabella, needed a blood transfusion, and Richard insisted her rare blood type matched mine, demanding I donate. He even offered me his hand in marriage, a grotesque bribe, to control me once more. When I refused, he sent burly security guards to forcibly drag me to the hospital' s donation room, intending to drain me literally and figuratively. Just as the needle hovered over my vein, the door burst open. Liam, pure fury in his eyes, stormed in, having heard my desperate screams from his pocket-dialed phone. "Get your hands off my wife," he snarled, revealing our secret marriage and pulling out the marriage certificate. Richard' s face crumpled, the truth unraveling everything he thought he controlled. As I gathered my last belongings from the apartment Richard had given Isabella, I found a diamond earring and a repair receipt in my desk. The receipt was in Richard's name, confirming a horrifying truth: the baby Isabella was carrying was Richard' s, not Julian' s. The fortress Richard built was not for protection, but to hide a monstrous secret. I walked away from the crumbling empire, leaving Richard and Julian in its ruins. Now, with Liam by my side, I' m building something truly mine, a future where freedom and partnership are the only assets I' ll ever need./0/85731/coverorgin.jpg?v=fa28600b8758c38736d1996cda821bc1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Rebirth: A Wife's Bitter Reckoning
The piercing wail of an ambulance siren was the first thing I heard. I was lying on the living room carpet, the scent of dust and cheap air freshener in my nose. A few feet away, my younger sister, Chloe, clutched an empty bottle of pills, feigning unconsciousness. It was a pathetic performance, but it had destroyed my life once before. This was the day I received my acceptance letter and full scholarship to the nation' s most prestigious art school-the day my life was supposed to begin. Instead, guided by my mother' s frantic sobs and my father' s angry accusations- "Ava, how can you be so selfish? Your sister is trying to kill herself because of you!" -I buckled. My fiancé, Mark, whispered poison: "What' s a scholarship compared to your sister' s life?" I believed them. I gave it all up, watching as my scholarship was transferred to Chloe. The betrayal festered. A month later, I discovered Mark hadn' t failed his exams; he and Chloe had plotted to steal my future. When I confronted them, they locked me in my art studio and set it on fire. I survived, disfigured and broken, only to be forced into a brutal marriage where I eventually died. But now, I was back. Seventeen again. Whole. The future they stole, once again within my grasp. Chloe fluttered her eyelids, a flash of triumph in her eyes as they met mine. This time, the burning rage had cooled into something harder, sharper. They thought this was their victory. They had no idea it was just the beginning of my revenge./1/109666/coverorgin.jpg?v=202ed1a2978280b3f87d7253eafc78b1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Ex-Husband's Fatal Ignorance
Five years ago, I was a world-renowned concert pianist. Now, I'm an auto mechanic with a mangled right hand, hiding from a past my ex-husband, Carter, dismisses as a "tantrum." He drags me to a charity gala where his mistress, Alexandrea, puts me on the spot, demanding I play for the city's elite-a cruel, public humiliation she knows I can't perform. When I refuse, Carter shoves me to the ground in a rage. He still thinks our daughter, Lily, is alive, and he uses her as a weapon. "Behave," he hisses, "and maybe we can bring Lily back home." Bring her home? The sheer ignorance is staggering. He has no idea our daughter froze to death in the same car crash that destroyed my hand. But just before the gala, my best friend uncovered the final, devastating truth. It wasn't an accident. They sabotaged my car and left us for dead. Tonight, I'm not just attending a party. I'm orchestrating a funeral. Theirs./1/103565/coverorgin.jpg?v=6093f7faae28107a13a1c8aa6851c8fd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Finding Hope Where Heartbreak Once Lingered
For three years of their secret relationship, Claire was sure Carsten would never let her down. But she overestimated herself and underestimated the hold his first love had on him. Three years of devotion ended with him suggesting she marry someone else, saying, "In six months, after your divorce, I'll marry you." Heartbroken, Claire walked away and vowed to never betray her new husband. What started as an arranged marriage blossomed into something real. Carsten, desperate, searched endlessly for her-only to be met by a nobleman who protected Claire and their unborn child, telling him to let go./1/108571/coverorgin.jpg?v=85d76c6a669866b18353768464ac4247&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Dying Wife's Final Gift
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./1/113577/coverorgin.jpg?v=9b97965cdd0fe8beef48dd081aaac148&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Billionaire's Secret Blood Sacrifice Bride
Cora thought she was the luckiest woman alive, married to a devoted tech billionaire who showered her with custom haute couture and obsessive care. But his "protection" involved locking her inside their San Francisco estate, forcing her to swallow foul neon-green supplements, and drawing her blood with highly classified veterinary needles. She thought it was just his extreme paranoia, until a cynical doctor cornered her at a charity gala. "Kendrick isn't raising a wife. He's curating a very rare, very fragile medical specimen. You're his personal pharmacy." Terrified, Cora broke into Kendrick's hidden safe and found a medical report approving her total bone marrow and stem cell depletion. Kendrick wasn't a doting husband. He was raising her as a human bloodbag to save his terminally ill cousin. When she nearly uncovered the truth, Kendrick cried fake tears, claiming he only needed her antibodies. "Tomorrow, we are going to my private island in the Caribbean. Just the two of us. No internet. No guards. Just peace." Cora almost believed his vulnerable act, deeply confused by how a man who kissed her so tenderly could plan to slaughter her in cold blood. Then, while packing for the trip, she dropped a wooden box, revealing a hidden flight manifesto. Kendrick's return date was listed. Hers was completely blank. Stapled to the back was a clinical schedule: Intensive Marrow Harvesting - Final Stage. Patient will not require return transport. Hearing his heavy footsteps echoing in the hallway, Cora gripped the sharp edges of the broken box. She was not going to be a slaughtered lamb on that island./1/114985/coverorgin.jpg?v=952b1988003275359db350a685b31754&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Genius Doctor's Perfect Fake Death
To escape my psychopathic, controlling lover, I faked my death in a Syrian war zone. Thirty-seven reconstructive surgeries later, the terrified girl he kept locked in a basement was gone. I returned to New York as an untouchable neurosurgeon, Dr. Alivia Clay. I only came back to save his grandfather—the one man who helped me escape. I thought my flawless new face was the perfect armor. But the moment Collis Duncan saw me, he cornered me against the hospital wall. He didn't recognize my face, but he recognized my panic. He trapped me in his arms, inhaling the faint scent of vanilla and orange blossom on my skin. "You smell exactly like a ghost I used to know," he whispered. Worse, a traumatized, mute little boy with Collis's exact gray eyes stumbled into me in the hallway. The boy clutched my white coat and handed me a flashcard with a crude drawing of a woman. "Mama." My blood turned to ice. Five years ago, I was told my newborn baby burned to ashes in that medical tent. How could this boy be alive? Why did Collis have my son while I mourned a pile of dust? Now, Collis is ordering a microscopic background check, desperate to tear my fake life to the ground and cage me again. But I'm not running anymore. Once I finish this surgery, I'm taking my son back./1/117488/coverorgin.jpg?v=d6cdd3008c3a40105dbd5959d4e78dd5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
No Longer His Walking Blood Bank
For two years, Chloe played the perfect wife to billionaire Julian Sinclair to save her family's business. But she quickly learned she was nothing more than a walking blood bank for his childhood sweetheart, Ava, forced to donate her rare blood under the threat of her family's financial ruin. Julian publicly humiliated Chloe by bringing Ava to her birthday party, letting the mistress flaunt the custom diamond necklace meant for Chloe's anniversary. When Ava deliberately smashed her own head into a table to frame her, Julian didn't hesitate to protect the other woman. "What the hell is wrong with you? I never want to see you again!" He even left a check on the nightstand after a loveless night, coldly ordering Chloe to take a morning-after pill to erase any chance of a child. Chloe couldn't understand why he never took off his wedding ring, or why he tenderly kissed her and begged her not to go when he was drunk. Why give her a fragile spark of hope, only to rush back to Ava the next morning over a faked pregnancy? Staring at his dead eyes as he ordered the butler to throw her packed bags out, the illusion finally shattered. Chloe simply nodded, picked up her suitcase, and walked out into the biting snow to reclaim her life./0/84167/coverorgin.jpg?v=40eca6810e8d745a6ee5d03125090814&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Betrayed Distiller's Triumph
For ten years, I was the unseen force behind Hewitt Distilleries, my family' s secret yeast and unique aging techniques turning a failing bourbon into an industry legend. I even convinced my parents to mortgage their last possession to save the company. Then, at the Kentucky Bourbon Festival gala, my wife, Nicole, stood on stage with her ex-boyfriend, Ryan, stealing all my credit and announcing my dismissal for being "unambitious." She' d set me up, sent me on a wild goose chase while she publicly betrayed me, then tried to activate a non-compete clause from our divorce papers, ensuring I could never distill again. How could the woman I loved, the company I built, treat me like dirt and try to erase my very existence? It wasn't just a professional slight; it was a deep, personal humiliation that curdled a decade of my life. But as they gloated, thinking they' d won, they had no idea I had just handed them a ticking time bomb. The moment Nicole called, panicking about a ruined Japanese deal, I knew my quiet revenge had just begun, and I was finally ready to walk away and build something truly mine./0/89486/coverorgin.jpg?v=a9c0b5ed74d7b7a4a1665d8563c4fe90&imageMogr2/format/webp)
FROM MRS. TO ME
"From Mrs. to Me" is a story about Ava, a woman who navigates a tumultuous marriage and emerges stronger and wiser. With the support of her mother, Emma, Ava finds the courage to prioritize her own happiness and well-being. After a divorce, Ava rebuilds her life, focuses on her career, and rediscovers herself. Through her journey, Ava learns valuable lessons about self-love, self-respect, and the importance of prioritizing one's own identity. The story explores themes of female empowerment, personal growth, and the challenges of relationships. Ultimately, Ava's story is one of transformation and liberation, as she finds happiness and fulfillment on her own terms. The book serves as a powerful reminder for women to prioritize their own worth, happiness, and well-being above societal expectations./1/113108/coverorgin.jpg?v=c5f5d205f3ef78cb51ff9a57dce41adc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
He Found My Worth, Unlike Them
For three years, I was the unpaid maid, cook, and accountant for my boyfriend Kieran's family. His mother, Jeanie, never let me forget my place. "You're not legally family," she'd say, whenever I asked for basic respect. Then I found the messages on his phone. He and Jeanie were arranging his engagement to Carolina Farley, a wealthy heiress. They called me a placeholder—someone who was just "around" until a better option came along. Jeanie sat me down and told me it was time to leave, confident I had nowhere else to go. She was wrong. While they slept, I earned my CPA license. While they spent, I saved every dollar. While they dismissed me as "just the girlfriend," I bought my own condo. When Kieran finally came crawling back, begging for another chance, I had one thing to say: "I'm already married. To a man who didn't need three years to know my worth." He thought I'd wait forever. He thought wrong./1/108415/coverorgin.jpg?v=20de5bb9175113555955e665de0106ad&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Billionaire's Fake Savior: Unmasking The Truth
I was a disgraced heiress hiding as a dishwasher in a high-end club, scrubbing lipstick off glasses until my fingers went numb. One night, I was forced to deliver a bottle of vintage whiskey to the penthouse, only to find the tech billionaire Kenan Cervantes collapsing from a lethal neural storm. I used my surgeon’s training to save his life, holding him in the dark until his fever finally broke. The next morning, the world I knew shattered. My coworker Tiffany, who hadn't even stepped foot in the room, claimed my identity as the savior. She signed a non-disclosure agreement and walked away with a $200,000 check, while I was accused of stealing the whiskey and had my entire month's wages forfeited as punishment. While Tiffany was flaunting Chanel suits and posting photos from his balcony, I was being shoved into the mud by my abusive foster father in a dark alley. I watched from the shadows as Kenan stepped into his luxury car, looking right through me with nothing but cold distaste. To him, I was just "street trash" cluttering the sidewalk, while the imposter was the "angel" who had stabilized his heart. The injustice felt like a physical weight. I had quieted the noise in his brain and kept him from the brink of death, yet I was the one facing eviction and hunger. I didn't understand how he could be a genius and still be so blind to the truth, rewarding a thief while I rotted in the basement. Everything reached a breaking point when Tiffany forced me to sneak into his penthouse to help her maintain the lie. But Kenan returned from Tokyo early, finding me on the terrace with his military-grade protection dog. The beast that had tried to bite Tiffany was now resting its head in my lap, protecting me from its own master. Kenan dropped his briefcase, his eyes locking onto mine as the fragmented memories of the storm finally clicked into place. "You," he whispered./1/110918/coverorgin.jpg?v=cdc00c2dbf71d1765d22b4f9ef5b4e02&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Scar He Gave, The Queen I Became
I was dragged from the bottom of a pool, soaking wet and freezing, only to be accused by my husband of trying to drown his mistress. He believed her lies completely. He saw her feigned cough and trembling shoulders but was blind to my chattering teeth and the genuine terror in my eyes from my severe water PTSD. "Your jealousy is a sickness," he spat, ignoring my pleas. He threatened me with divorce and financial ruin for my family, all while his mistress, Isabelle, smirked at me from behind his back. He let me collapse onto the cold marble floor, turning his back on three years of marriage to comfort the woman who had set me up. The irony was suffocating. I was the one who had saved his life from a river years ago, an act that left me with a crippling phobia and a permanent scar he never noticed. He thought Isabelle was the traumatized victim. He thought my love was a transaction. That night, the love died. I walked away from his millions and the pathetic wife he thought I was. From the hidden lining of my clutch, I pulled out an encrypted phone he'd never seen and gave a single command: "Execute." My life as Mrs. Mueller was over. My real life was just beginning./1/102314/coverorgin.jpg?v=8be5a01ecb7fb4e13c58a997fab876a9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Three-Year Lie: A Wife's Vengeance
My husband, Edgar, and my mentee, Amelie, betrayed me. He staged a car crash that left me with amnesia, then held me captive for three years, convincing me he was my protector. Meanwhile, Amelie stole my identity, my family's fortune, and became the new "Elise Everett." My parents died of grief, believing I was dead. A slap from Amelie shattered the lies, and my memory came flooding back. I learned the horrifying truth: my perfect life was a prison built on my grave. Forced to play the part of a broken, amnesiac lover, I endured their cruelty, secretly gathering evidence of their crimes. I overheard Edgar confess everything-the crash, my parents' deaths, his plan to keep me as his "obedient pet" forever. He wanted to parade his new wife at his birthday gala, a final humiliation for me. So I offered to plan the party for him. He thought it was a gesture of love. He had no idea I was planning his downfall./0/86201/coverorgin.jpg?v=7f7998ee82f256836dd0726afed9ef6e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Woman Who Stole Everything
The old house felt wrong, but we still visited my husband' s stroke-stricken mother, Susan, every Sunday. Then, a new caregiver, Olivia, appeared – too young, too perfect, her presence immediately unsettling. My father-in-law, Robert, was completely smitten, fawning over her while she brazenly blocked us from seeing Susan, claiming doctor' s orders. The condescension, the hidden glances between them, and the cloying perfume in my mother-in-law' s house twisted my gut. What was really happening behind the closed doors of Susan' s room? A few days later, a faint thud and a low moan from Susan' s window sent a chill down my spine, confirming my darkest fears. They were hiding something, hurting her. My husband, David, furious, brought home a tiny nanny cam disguised as a USB charger. Our desperate plan was set: on Sunday, during a staged argument, I would sneak into Susan' s room and plug it in. The live feed was horrifying: Robert, his wife paralyzed in bed, was canoodling with Olivia, calling Susan "useless." Then Olivia dropped a bombshell: "I'm pregnant." David was incandescent with rage. We stormed back to the house, bursting in on their cozy scene. "I know everything," David roared, confronting his father. Olivia, playing the victim, announced her pregnancy, but a weak, guttural sound from Susan' s room shifted David' s focus. He shoved his father aside and rushed in, only to discover Susan neglected, abused, and terrified. Blinded by fury, David lunged at Robert, and in the chaos, Olivia feigned a dramatic fall, screaming, "My baby!" The police arrived, called by Robert, and David was arrested for assault, leaving me alone in the wreckage. Susan' s rasping whisper, "Snow… fake," confirmed my worst suspicions: Olivia was a fraud. With David jailed and Olivia claiming a miscarriage, I was drowning, but my mother' s firm voice cut through the despair. "She's done this before, Sarah. This is a professional operation." My despair turned to a cold, hard resolve: Olivia had overplayed her hand. Justice for Susan was now my only goal./0/82603/coverorgin.jpg?v=edfc0a088b4ff5f2b788671c6fdff151&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Roommate, My Nightmare
I was just a normal college sophomore, studying journalism, living with my roommate, Britt. She was a self-proclaimed social justice warrior online, constantly posting, but sometimes her "activism" felt more like twisting things to make people feel small. This Thanksgiving, I posted a simple, sweet photo of my dad and me, saying how thankful I was for my hero firefighter father. A few hours later, a friend sent a screenshot from CampusWhisper, our anonymous gossip app. It was my photo, my dad, with a vile caption calling me a "pick-me" celebrating "patriarchal figures." My stomach dropped when I saw the edge of my phone in the background. Only Britt could have taken that screenshot from my phone. When I confronted her, she sneered, defending herself as "speaking truth to power," even calling my dad an "oppressive machine." Campus security ordered her to apologize, but Britt retaliated, mocking me on TikTok, painting me as a sensitive, "triggered conservative." Then came the rumors, and a guy, clearly put up to it by Britt, made a disgusting comment implying she' d shown them fabricated, explicit images of me and my dad. My blood ran cold imagining what she created. I charged her, demanding to see her phone, and she screamed, faking an assault. Me, assaulting her? The humiliation was unbearable. I couldn't understand why her hatred was so personal, so extreme. What kind of person creates something like that about someone's father? What was wrong with her? That' s when I called my Uncle Dave, a no-nonsense lawyer. He told me to start gathering every piece of evidence. This wasn't just online drama anymore; this was a war, and I was going to fight back. I had no idea then, how far she would be willing to go, or what I would have to do to stop her before she destroyed my life – and potentially ended it./1/106225/coverorgin.jpg?v=70a81998e6fd0370e733de999f1d8d28&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Day I Caught Him Cheating, I Married Another
I walked into my apartment dripping wet from the rain, only to hear a guttural moan coming from the bedroom. I told myself it was just the TV, but my shaking hands could barely fit the key into the lock. When the door swung open, I saw a pair of red stilettos on the floor and my fiancé's favorite silk tie discarded like trash. I pushed the bedroom door open to find Javon in our bed with another woman, the sheets I had just washed two days ago tangled around them. Instead of apologizing, Javon looked at me with a sneer and barked, "You don't know how to knock?" He claimed he paid the bills, even though I worked double shifts just to keep the lights on while he chased a promotion he'd never get. When I slapped him, he didn't show remorse-he called me a "stupid bitch" and lunged at me with a look of pure malice. My life was a total wreck; my fiancé was a cheater, and my grandmother was about to be kicked out of her nursing home because I was forty dollars short of the payment. I felt like I was falling off a cliff with no one to catch me. Why was the man I loved treating me like a cockroach in my own home? Just as Javon moved to strike me, a shadow fell over the room. A man in an expensive black trench coat stood in the doorway, his presence sucking the oxygen out of the room. It was Carmine Wilkinson, a man I had never met but whose terrifying calm made my heart stop. He didn't look at the trash on the bed; he only looked at me. He handed me a monogrammed handkerchief and asked one simple, brutal question. "Do you want revenge?" I nodded, desperate for any lifeline in the middle of my imploding world. He didn't offer me a shoulder to cry on; he looked me in the eye and gave me an ultimatum that would change my life forever. "Good. Get your ID. We're going to City Hall."/0/49595/coverorgin.jpg?v=ac00ff25dc76c20d3b723aaf557c8ca7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
