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Modern Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Too Late For Regret: My Genius Wife

Too Late For Regret: My Genius Wife

I was hemorrhaging on the cold linoleum of the emergency room, my jeans soaked in blood as I begged the nurse to call my husband. I needed Erik’s signature for an emergency surgery to save my life, but he wouldn't pick up. When I finally reached his assistant, the truth hit me harder than the physical pain. Erik was in the same hospital, just a few floors up, giving strict orders not to be disturbed because his sister-in-law, Athena, was having a "difficult" delivery. I signed my own consent form and woke up hollow, the pregnancy gone. Shaking and barely able to walk, I dragged myself to the VIP ward only to find Erik rocking Athena’s baby with a look of pure, paternal love—a look he had never given me. "You’re just trying to pull focus because my brother’s heir was born," he sneered when I finally confronted him at home later that night. "Stop the drama, Carie. Was it a migraine or just cramps this time?" He didn't believe me when I told him I’d lost our child, and he certainly didn't believe me when I told him Athena had intentionally rammed my car two years ago to cause my first miscarriage. To him, I was just "low-stock" trash who couldn't provide an heir, while Athena was the fragile widow who needed his protection. His mother stood there laughing, threatening to freeze my credit cards if I walked out the door, while Erik watched with cold indifference. They thought they had trapped a penniless orphan, but they forgot one thing: I was the one who designed the very empire they were standing on. As I walked out into the blizzard, I didn't just leave a divorce petition on the floor; I triggered the code to short their family stock into the ground. "I'm not just taking my name back, Erik," I whispered as the gates slammed shut. "I'm taking everything."
The CEO's Twisted Deception

The CEO's Twisted Deception

The new car gleamed in the executive parking spot, a silver dagger twisting in my gut. It was a gift from Chloe, my fiancée and CEO, to Liam, her new executive assistant. My project budget, for the core technology I built, was slashed again, a cold financial slap in the face. Then, in front of the entire company, Chloe announced my salary cut, while Liam smirked beside her, wearing a new designer watch that matched his car. The humiliation was a physical blow, public and intentional. I looked at Chloe, searching for the woman I loved, the partner I trusted, but found only a stranger. I resigned on the spot, the words a liberating exhale after ten years of pouring my life into Apex Innovations. The next day, Chloe kissed Liam right in front of me, but the part of me that would have shattered was already gone. I flinched from her touch when she tried to placate me, a physical rejection that finally broke her composure. She fumed, threatening to abandon me, but I felt nothing. Then, Liam, her new executive, chillingly outlined his plan to dismantle my life' s work for profit, and she agreed. My lawyer informed me about the power of attorney, a relic of our past trust, that I might use to sell our joint home. I heard him conspire to cannibalize my project, and witnessed her trust him blindly. Later, she signed the house away, giving me full control of our assets, all because of Liam's fabricated emergency. It was clear then: my loyalty hadn't been seen as strength, but as a weakness to exploit. After she tried to blacklist me from the entire industry, I stood across from Chloe and Liam, who offered me a menial job in the company I co-founded, as an act of charity. I realized this wasn't just a breakup; it was a war, and I was finally ready to fight back.
The Dead Wife's Spectacular Secret Return

The Dead Wife's Spectacular Secret Return

Five years ago, I faked my death in a yacht explosion just to escape my ruthless, controlling husband, Gerald Sinclair. Now, I have returned to Boston as the new Dean of Medicine at St. Jude Hospital. My only goal was to secretly check on my seven-year-old daughter, Cassidy. But what I saw shattered my heart. She was locked inside a heavily guarded VIP suite like a prisoner, so psychologically broken that she was standing on a windowsill, ready to jump. Gerald's armed security team treated the hospital like a military base, forcing her to swallow heavy psychiatric pills. When she managed to escape through the air ducts and collapsed into my arms in the courtyard, her small, feverish body trembled violently. "No! I don't want to go back to the white room!" She begged me, crying in terror. But because my identity was a secret, I could only watch helplessly as Gerald's security chief tore my own child from my embrace and locked her back in the cage. I didn't understand why Gerald would rather destroy our daughter's mind than let us go. Was his twisted obsession and need for control worth driving his own flesh and blood to the brink of death? Now, my cover is blown. Gerald just received the message that I am alive, and he is flying back in a blind rage, freezing my accounts and locking down the entire city to trap me. But he forgot one thing. I am no longer the helpless wife he backed into a corner. This time, I am taking my daughter back.
His Promise, My Shattered World

His Promise, My Shattered World

My world revolved around Jax Harding, my older brother's captivating rockstar friend. From sixteen, I adored him; at eighteen, I clung to his casual promise: "When you're 22, maybe I'll settle down." That offhand comment became my life's beacon, guiding every choice, meticulously planning my twenty-second birthday as our destiny. But on that pivotal day in a Lower East Side bar, clutching my gift, my dream exploded. I overheard Jax' s cold voice: "Can't believe Savvy's showing up. She' s still hung up on that stupid thing I said." Then the crushing plot: "We' re gonna tell Savvy I' m engaged to Chloe, maybe even hint she' s pregnant. That should scare her off." My gift, my future, slipped from my numb fingers. I fled into the cold New York rain, devastated by betrayal. Later, Jax introduced Chloe as his "fiancée" while his bandmates mocked my "adorable crush"-he did nothing. As an art installation fell, he saved Chloe, abandoning me to severe injury. In the hospital, he came for "damage control," then shockingly shoved me into a fountain, leaving me to bleed, calling me a "jealous psycho." How could the man I loved, who once saved me, become this cruel and publicly humiliate me? Why was my devotion seen as an annoyance to be brutally extinguished with lies and assault? Was I just a problem, my loyalty met with hatred? I would not be his victim. Injured and betrayed, I made an unshakeable vow: I was done. I blocked his number and everyone connected to him, severing ties. This was not an escape; this was my rebirth. Florence awaited, a new life on my terms, unburdened by broken promises.