Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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Reborn To Marry My Billionaire Rival
I was freezing to death in an abandoned cabin, desperately waiting for my fiancé to save me. Instead, my phone flickered with a video from my adopted sister. She was smiling as she confessed that she and my fiancé had orchestrated my kidnapping, and my parents' fatal plane crash, just to steal my family's trust fund. When I called him with my dying breath, he mocked me for faking a PR stunt and hung up. I died in the sub-zero blizzard, consumed by absolute despair. But as a ghost, I watched my greatest business rival, the ruthless billionaire Collins, kick down the doors of my mansion. He didn't just mourn me. He shot my fiancé, trapped my sister, and set the entire place on fire, choosing to burn alive in the inferno just to avenge me. I couldn't understand why the man I had publicly despised for a decade loved me so fiercely, while the people I gave everything to wanted me dead. Opening my eyes again, I was back backstage on the night I won my Oscar, four years ago. My fiancé smiled, holding out his arms to hug me. I pushed him away in disgust, marched straight into the crowded theater, and kissed my billionaire rival on live television. "Let's get married tomorrow." This time, I would use him to burn them all to the ground./1/115549/coverorgin.jpg?v=242ab1a9d80faec160ac1aefcc430e91&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Stolen Locket, Stolen Heart: Her Revenge
To save my family from ruin, I remarried my billionaire ex-husband, Jaxon Lowe. He held my late mother' s locket hostage, forcing me back into a gilded cage where I endured his cold contempt and his very public affair. I played the part of the silent, obedient wife he demanded, building a wall of ice around my heart just to survive. But my obedience didn't protect me. He abandoned me in a torrential downpour to rescue his mistress, Ivory. Then, he broke his one promise. He let Ivory have my mother's locket pulled from auction, the very reason for my sacrifice, simply because she found it "unlucky." That final betrayal led me straight into the hands of his business rival, where I was tortured and left for dead. But I survived. Four months later, Jaxon found me. He stood before me, tears streaming down his face, holding the now-repaired locket and begging for forgiveness. I took back what was mine. "I want a divorce," I said, my voice calm and final. "And I never want to see you again."/0/58446/coverorgin.jpg?v=0989dc1d4f1e43449fcfcfc98e232004&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Taming My Unruly Sister
The night after the SAT ended, my sister sent me a wish list. "iPhone for 10,000 yuan, tablet for 5,000 yuan, computer for 8,000 yuan, clothes for 3,000 yuan, cosmetics for 2,000 yuan... totaling 50,000 yuan." I am just a working person with a monthly salary of 3,000 yuan, and my parents are both laborers. How can I come up with so much money for her all at once? Our family scraped together and could only give her 20,000 yuan. But she not only didn't appreciate it, but also threatened to jump off a building. My parents and I had no choice but to borrow money from everywhere, working multiple jobs a day to repay the debts. When my parents died in a car accident due to overwork, my sister and her boyfriend were still indulging in luxury at a five-star hotel. I also succumbed to the overwhelming pressure and depression and ended up committing suicide. After being reborn, I personally sent her to work at a corrupt factory, and she became obedient./0/43846/coverorgin.jpg?v=c819e02670655b4ea97f476287a484c2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
We Will Never Part Again
In a previous life, Maeve had loved an unworthy man unconditionally, but sadly, she met a tragic end, drowning in the sea. Reborn, she decided to live a completely different life, joyful and unburdened by commitments. It just so happened that the despicable woman who was her rival in love in her past life released a song in the hopes of becoming a pop star. Unfortunately for her, her wish would never come true. As soon as Maeve released her first song, she rose in popularity rapidly, topping the charts consistently. Every time the despicable woman put on a pitiful face and pretended to be the victim, Maeve would play along with her little act before finally giving her a sharp slap across the face. At the end of the day, Maeve's skills and talents were unparalleled. Learning from her mistakes in her previous life, she gradually climbed to the top. Decisive and ruthless as she was, she couldn’t help but be tender and gentle towards that man she once loved... "Darling, I’m ready! Come and join me!" She called to him. She was seductive and alluring. The man, unable to resist her charm, whispered to her, "Take the day off tomorrow because you won't be able to leave bed!"/1/105816/coverorgin.jpg?v=f1aeb8a5a033c91eedd0a96d9c9876b7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Jilted Heiress: Rising From Betrayal
I woke up in a sterile hospital bed with the smell of antiseptic burning my throat, having just had my stomach pumped six hours ago. Before the sedatives even wore off, my mother called, not to ask if I was alive, but to demand I show up at my sister’s birthday gala in two hours. To her, I wasn't a daughter; I was a three-hundred-million-dollar signature needed for a corporate merger. She didn't care that I was suicidal, or that my fiancé, Franco, was currently at a luxury hotel with his "secretary" while I was hooked up to an IV. At the gala, the humiliation only deepened. I watched my fiancé walk in with his mistress, the air thick with her cloying perfume. When my grandmother’s "lost" emeralds—my rightful inheritance—spilled out of the mistress’s purse, my mother didn't flinch. Instead, she hissed at me to give them back to avoid a scene. My sister, the "perfect" golden child, took the stage and told the elite crowd that I was mentally unstable and "confused" due to my medication. I stood there, drenched in champagne and bleeding from a glass shard, while my own family gaslighted me in front of the world's press. Franco didn't even look at me as he shielded his mistress from the cameras, leaving me to stand alone in the wreckage of a life they had dismantled. I realized then that my parents didn't want a daughter; they wanted a pawn who wouldn't talk back. Why was my life worth less than a line item in a budget? How could a mother hand her daughter’s legacy to a mistress just to keep a contract intact? As my sister lunged at me in a fit of rage, I kicked her into the infinity pool and watched the "perfect" family mask finally shatter. I didn't wait for them to pull me down; I let the weight of my gown drag me into the dark water myself. Let them think the broken Kalea Alexander is gone. When I surface, I’m not coming back as a daughter—I’m coming back as their worst nightmare./0/97056/coverorgin.jpg?v=128c16c8379657d0702c7998eb1f69ea&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Our Little Cupid: The Tycoon's Child In My Arms
After being forced out of her marriage because she could not have children, Allison's heart broke into pieces. She left for a sleepy town, hoping to find peace and mend her wounds. One day, she stumbled upon an abandoned baby boy and chose to raise him alone. Four years slipped by. One morning, a fleet of luxury cars rolled up to her modest house. A well-dressed man stepped out, holding a card. "Here's two million. Take it for raising my son." With a sly grin, the man replied, "Then both of you come home with me." Allison drew the child close. "He's my family. I will not let him go!"/0/80834/coverorgin.jpg?v=2744a45a482728d4f89d54a89e812599&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Weekend Wife's Escape
My world shattered when my fiancé Ethan’s “work wife,” Chloe, announced her pregnancy with his baby at his Vegas bachelor party. Then came his outrageous "solution": he'd live with her during the week to "support the baby," and I'd be his "weekend wife" at our Hamptons home, our wedding indefinitely postponed. Eight years of my life, discarded like trash. His family’s snickers about my "new money" and "frivolous" Art History degree, his casual critiques – it all swirled into a bitter cocktail. I was expected to be “mature,” to accept being his mere diversion. The humiliation deepened when Chloe began taunting me on social media, proclaiming her "blessed" new life with *my* fiancé. The final blow came at the alumni gala: Chloe faked a fall, and Ethan, in a fit of rage, *slapped me in front of everyone*, his loyalties clear. He truly believed I'd crawl back. But just as I thought I’d drown in despair, a drunken call from my childhood friend, Noah, brought a lifeline: "Marry me, Ava." In that desperate, raw moment, I said yes. I ripped off Ethan’s ring and walked out, not just from him, but from the gilded cage he’d trapped me in. This wasn't a tantrum; it was my defiant escape. And I was going to burn every bridge on the way out./0/60394/coverorgin.jpg?v=3aadb996df74c44e216bd6c5640a02c2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Escape From Love's Dark Clutches
Heather's ex-boyfriend, Jeremy, who had vanished two years earlier, was surprisingly revealed to be the uncle of her current partner. In public, Jeremy projected a cold and arrogant demeanor, yet he harbored an obsessive and near-maddening fixation on Heather. In her desperation to escape Jeremy's dominating influence, Heather turned to Nathan, whom she perceived as a kind-hearted businessman. However, she was unaware of Nathan's true nature. He, too, had sinister intentions and, like Jeremy, aimed to exploit her. Trapped in a dangerous love triangle, Heather found herself unable to escape./1/105817/coverorgin.jpg?v=c748f1ef66f8ecd37797fe4917fb7ef3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Not Just A Nanny: The Genius Returns
I spent five years as the perfect wife to Easton Harrington, smoothing his midnight-blue ties and fading into the wallpaper of his massive estate. I thought I was the heart of our family, but I was really just a ghost in a sensible beige dress. The illusion shattered at a charity gala when Easton’s "family friend," Georgina, appeared in a gown that matched his suit perfectly. While they basked in the flashbulbs as a golden couple, I was literally pushed into the velvet ropes by a cameraman. No one noticed. Then my four-year-old son, Holt, slapped my hand away in front of the city's elite. "Don't touch me! You're not my mom, you're just the nanny. Daddy said so." The room went silent, but Easton didn't defend me. He just looked annoyed that I was causing a scene, making a sharp shooing motion for me to take the boy away. Beside him, Georgina feigned shock while her eyes crinkled in pure amusement. I realized then that I wasn't his partner; I was a placeholder. They had stripped me of my dignity and even my child's love, treating my five years of devotion like a temporary staff position. I didn't scream. I just slid off the Harrington heirloom ring, tossed it into a fountain, and walked out into the night. Easton thinks I’m a penniless housewife who won’t last a week without his credit cards. He doesn't know that I’m Dr. Althea Morrison, the "prodigy" researcher his company has been begging to hire. I'm not asking for alimony, and I'm not begging for a second chance. I’m returning to the lab to build an empire that will bring his to its knees./1/102897/coverorgin.jpg?v=687e9dd31b100883a45169168ae7853a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Your Regret, My Revenge
I waited desperately for three years for my lifeline of hope, only to discover that my husband, Vincent, planned to give it to his mistress who was carrying his child. It was then I realized that the unwavering love over those three years was nothing but a heartfelt deception. I didn't want anything to do with this tainted man anymore. But I must seize my life back with my own hands. I erased every trace of myself from my past and dialed a number I hadn't called in ages: "Auntie, take me away. I want to survive." Yet when I rose from the ashes, transformed, the man who had personally pushed me into hell was tormented by regret, slipping into insanity./1/115875/coverorgin.jpg?v=6643a52fc5265c45cec1e0b0befe860b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn To Ruin My Cheating Fiancé
Isabella thought she had the perfect life as the wealthy Conrad family heiress, complete with a loving childhood sweetheart. Until she woke up drugged in a hotel bed, blinded by paparazzi flashes, as her fiancé pointed a shaking finger at her, screaming that she had drugged and seduced him. "She threatened to ruin Kaylie if I didn't sleep with her!" he yelled to the cameras. Kaylie, the newly discovered biological daughter, stood in the doorway weeping perfectly. Within hours, Isabella's adoptive father publicly severed all ties, froze her assets, and kicked her out into a violent thunderstorm. Fleeing the city, her car's brakes suddenly failed. As Isabella lay dying in the crushed metal of her Porsche, Kaylie strolled up with a pristine umbrella and a genuine smile. "The mechanic was quite expensive, but cutting the brake lines was worth every penny," Kaylie laughed. Isabella coughed up blood, her heart turning to ice. Her twenty years of family, love, and loyalty had been nothing but a cruel joke, destroyed by a calculated frame-up. She died suffocating on absolute betrayal and unadulterated hatred. Then, she gasped for air. She wasn't dead. She was sitting in the driver's seat of her car, staring at her flawless reflection in the rearview mirror. It was exactly four years ago—the day the real heiress first arrived. A chilling smirk curled the corner of Isabella's mouth. This time, she was going to rip their lives apart from the inside out./0/81159/coverorgin.jpg?v=d1da581435b32e9a7e95a52f8984c99c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Stolen Legacy: The Code That Built Billions
My world was a cracked apartment ceiling, water dripping into a rusted pot, somewhere in a forgotten Rust Belt town. I was Ethan Miller, the man Sophia called her "rock," tirelessly coding the core of her tech empire, Elysian, from this grim solitude. I believed her promises of a shared future in California, even as she lived it up in Silicon Valley with her Head of Marketing, Leo. But the last thing I saw before my chest seized with a sharp, final pain, was Sophia' s face, laughing not with me, but with him. Her divorce papers, a "formality," lay discarded nearby, purchased with the money she' d supposedly sent for my living expenses-money that actually funded Leo' s Tesla and his glittering Palo Alto condo. I died knowing the brutal truth: her affair, the stolen millions, the calculated lies that had festered over years. Anger and crushing regret were my only companions in that ultimate betrayal. Then, a jolt. I sat bolt upright in my lumpy bed, the calendar on the wall showing yesterday's date-the day after Sophia had called, her voice smooth, assuring me about a "divorce for show." I knew everything now. Every lie, every betrayal, every stolen cent. This time, things would be drastically different. My hands were steady, my resolve chillingly clear. With just a bus ticket in my worn wallet, I was going to Silicon Valley. My intellectual property, my years of unpaid labor, my shattered life – I was coming to reclaim every single piece of it, and they wouldn't know what hit them./1/100626/coverorgin.jpg?v=4921e13460a96ca75f5de853555cf5a5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Stolen Moments With My Forbidden Love
Looking into another's eyes and sensing an unspoken pull once defined true love. That quiet spark between two souls was supposed to mean everything. Yet reaching it seemed impossible when the world kept forcing them apart. Age gaps, harsh realities, and the weight of circumstance pushed them to the edge. Stories like theirs could have belonged to anyone. This tale honored those who clung to love through every setback, even while remaining only a fragile work of fiction, a mirror for desires that real life kept just out of reach, aching yet unforgettable./0/85377/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106210015&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Code Monkey's Revenge
I poured five years of my life into Nexus, the social media giant, building its very soul from lines of code in my quiet apartment. The world knew my live-in boyfriend, Mark Davis, as the CEO of ConnectCorp, the charismatic face of our success, but they didn't know I was the genius behind the curtain. On the eve of our IPO, a critical server failure threatened to derail everything, which I, Ava Chen, single-handedly fixed, only for the doorbell to ring. It was Chloe Miller, my college rival and Mark' s new Head of Product, who sauntered in uninvited, her smile as sharp as her designer suit, to tell me my contract was "terminated, effective immediately." Fired? It was impossible, I was Nexus, the very heart of the company. My call to Mark rang once, then Chloe answered on another phone, locking eyes with me as she faked distress for her "call with Mark," accusing me of aggression. "You' re his mistress," the horrifying realization hit me with the force of a physical blow, confirmed by her cruel smirk and the photo of Mark and me she turned face down. Outside, a crowd of ConnectCorp employees gathered, pointing and whispering, eager witnesses to my public humiliation, confirming my worst fears. Then Mark' s car screeched up, and he stormed out, ignoring me to pull Chloe into a theatrical embrace before yelling, "What the hell did you do, Ava?" Before I could explain, his hand flew through the air, connecting with my cheek, the crack echoing through the silent street. The man I loved, the man I built an empire for, had just publicly slapped me for his mistress. "You' re just the code monkey who got replaced," he sneered, joining Chloe' s cruel laugh as the crowd cheered my downfall. It was in that moment, stripped of everything, that a cold, hard resolve solidified within me. When Mark, attempting a final insult, offered me our old, dilapidated apartment as severance, I grasped the USB holding Nexus' s un-uploaded core. "There' s your data," I declared, throwing the drive to their feet, forcing them to scramble like dogs. Then I walked out, leaving the life I built behind, burning it all down for a chance at true liberation./1/107764/coverorgin.jpg?v=d1773e32f3e2d10948f2013298d543bb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Mute Bride Is The Secret Mastermind
I was the titan of Wall Street until an indictment and an ankle monitor turned my penthouse into a gilded cage. To save face, I was forced into a marriage with Elza, a "mute" girl from the Schmidt family whom I treated as nothing more than a silent piece of furniture while my empire crumbled. The night I was poisoned at a high-society gala, a mysterious server in an oversized uniform saved my life with terrifying, clinical precision. They disappeared into the night, leaving me with a silver cufflink and a burning obsession to find the shadow who held my life in their hands. Back home, I took my frustration out on Elza, telling her she was "exhausting to look at" and "smelled like sickness" after her charity visits. Her own family treated her like a stray dog, trying to humiliate her at the next gala by dressing her in what they claimed was a cheap knockoff while whispering to the press that she was nothing but a high-end escort. "Stay out of my way," I would growl at her, never noticing the steel in her eyes. I sat at my table, watching my rivals' stocks plummet and wondering who "The Zero"-the legendary financial ghost-really was. I never suspected that the woman I ignored was the same one solving the equations that were currently burning Manhattan to the ground. The injustice peaked when Elza stood before the city's elite, not as a victim, but as a queen. She dropped over a hundred million dollars to buy back her family's legacy, revealing a secret fortune that made my own empire look like pocket change. As I grabbed her wrist and saw the small red mole hidden beneath her watch, the truth hit me like a physical blow. The silent wife I had despised was the savior I had been hunting, and she was finally done playing the victim. "We have a lot to talk about, wife," I whispered, realizing I had been sleeping next to the most dangerous woman in the world./1/108413/coverorgin.jpg?v=a808f2d21c25bedc02817d08e89c55c6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The CEO's Runaway Wife and Secret Heir
I was Hart Whitney’s "contract wife" for three years before I vanished, taking nothing but a secret and a scar that would never heal. Now, the billionaire CEO had tracked me down to a rainy suburb in Seattle, ready to drag me back to New York just to get the signature he needed to unlock his family trust. But when he stormed into my small house, he didn't just find a runaway employee; he found a three-year-old boy with his exact gray eyes and a nervous habit of spinning a pen that was a mirror image of his own. "He’s not yours," I lied, clutching my son to my chest as Hart looked at him with cold, cynical disbelief. He forced us onto his private jet, treating me like a corporate thief and my son like a scandalous mistake. In New York, his socialite fiancée, Isadora, tried to poison my son with a "gift" of hazelnut chocolate and publicly humiliated me by exposing the jagged burn scar on my back—the very scar I earned saving Hart’s life in a fire three years ago, a heroic act Isadora had stolen credit for. I couldn't understand how a man so brilliant could be so blind. He believed a faked DNA test over the evidence of his own eyes. He let his fiancée torment the woman who had bled for him and the child who shared his soul, all while I sat in the corner of his office, invisible and broken. It wasn't until my son lay dying in a hospital bed, needing a blood transfusion so rare it only ran in the Whitney family, that the truth finally broke through Hart's icy exterior. As Hart watched his own blood flow into our son's veins, he finally realized he hadn't been hunting a traitor—he had been destroying the only people who ever truly loved him./0/84404/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106204623&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Wife's Cruel Secret
My name is Nathaniel Lester, a legacy in The Directorate, a secret agency where my legendary father, "Ghost," once operated. I chose to sacrifice a leadership career, opting for a field agent role, all to stay close to my high-ranking handler wife, Sylvia, whom I loved more than anything. That choice shattered my world during a mission in Eastern Europe when I was captured by mercenaries, tortured, and had the crucial "Rosetta Key" cut from my arm, leaving me broken and left for dead. My hero, Sylvia, later rescued me, but her voice from the hospital hallway - "using the mercenaries to set up Nathaniel... maybe we went too far," followed by, "Caleb needs the Rosetta Key... As for Nathaniel? He has me. That's enough" - echoed louder than any scream. My wife, the woman I devoted everything to, and my lifelong mentor, conspired to leave me brutally maimed for a promotion for some rookie named Caleb, destroying my body, my career, and my very identity. They systematically fed me lies, delayed my healing with fake serums, and orchestrated my public humiliation, stripping me of my clearance and painting me as a traitor just as Caleb, the one who benefited from my agony, was groomed to replace me. How could my closest allies betray me so utterly? What dark game were they playing, and why did my sacrifice mean so little? Alone in that locked room, with nothing left but searing pain and raging fury, I remembered one thing they forgot: my father, Ghost, always had a contingency for betrayal. I activated his hidden protocol, a desperate signal sent through my life force, relinquishing my old self to call the Ghost home, knowing this was either my end or my ultimate rebirth./1/102898/coverorgin.jpg?v=5b53d87fab2f098dd3f4faee24464c6d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Career and Love Life Flourished after a Divorce
On the third day after my unexpected miscarriage, my husband, George Wood, brought home my stepsister, Savannah Ahmed. She was eight months pregnant. My stepmother, Julia Ahmed, said, "The Food family needs a child to continue the family legacy." My father added, "Clara, you must learn tolerance." When Savannah had an accident, George dragged me to the hospital and said, "We must save Savannah, even if we have to drain every last drop of Clara's blood. Clara, you should feel honored that you are still useful." George's cold words pierced through my heart. "You may leave now." I lay alone in the hospital corridor, waiting to die, but no one knew that I had already made a deal with George's most formidable rival, who was like a devil from hell./0/99978/coverorgin.jpg?v=20251222135333&imageMogr2/format/webp)
