Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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Loving Mr CEO
Aida's life is already complicated. A controlling boyfriend. A job that drains her. A heart tired of giving more than it gets. So the last thing she expects is Mike-the quiet, handsome "new trainee" who walks into the office with a mysterious calm and an unexpected kindness. He's humble. Soft-spoken. Nothing like the men she's used to. But something about him feels... different. Dangerous. Safe. All at once. As their friendship blooms, jealous eyes begin to watch. Whispers spread. Fake friends interfere. And even Mike's family stands against them. Two hearts drawn to each other. One relationship already falling apart. Secrets that can destroy everything. In a company filled with gossip, power, and hidden agendas, Aida and Mike must decide- is this friendship worth the risk? Or will the growing tension ruin them before they even begin?/1/104840/coverorgin.jpg?v=f9db936bdddb7da70693eaad0c652c93&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Choosing The Imposter Over His Dying Wife
My fiancée sacrificed five years of her life to save my family, falling into a deep coma. But when she finally woke up, I didn't greet her with love. I greeted her with pure hatred. Convinced by my mistress, Hailie, that Ericka was a traitor faking her illness for sympathy, I became her tormentor. When she told me she had stage four cancer, I laughed and accused her of manipulation. I locked her in a freezing safe house. I forced her into a sauna until her skin blistered, then doused her failing lungs with ice water. I dragged her out of the hospital to kneel in the rain until she collapsed. Even when she fell from a balcony, broken and bleeding, I let my men beat her. I watched her waste away, believing every one of Hailie's lies over Ericka's desperate truths. It wasn't until I saw her cold, blue body on the rocks below the cliffs that the truth finally shattered me. The autopsy confirmed the cancer I mocked was real. A hidden recording revealed Hailie had framed her all along, admitting she treated me like a dog on a leash. I realized I had tortured the woman who saved my life until she bought her own grave just to escape me. I burned Hailie alive at Ericka's funeral, but death was too easy a punishment. I lived in agony, a scarred monster praying for the end. But when I finally closed my eyes in the fire, I didn't die. I heard a beep. I opened my eyes, and the date on my phone was three years ago. The day Ericka woke up./0/86224/coverorgin.jpg?v=760eb49e90c3342dfca64620291f7936&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Love's Betrayal, A Genius Undone
It was supposed to be my graduation celebration, a dinner hosted by my best friends. Brandon, our class president, raised a glass to me, "The quiet genius." But their smiles felt like traps, and when Chloe, my fiancée, squeezed my arm, her touch was cold, her perfume reeked of secrets. Then I saw it-a text on Chloe' s phone from Brandon: "The laxatives are in the sauce for everyone else. Just make sure he doesn't leave." My celebratory dinner wasn't a party; it was a setup to frame me, leave me with a massive bill, and ruin my future. When I tried to leave, they blocked the exit, and Brandon, with a triumphant smirk, snatched my backpack. He pulled out my sealed Stanford acceptance letter and scholarships, then ripped them to shreds, letting the confetti of my future flutter to the floor. Before I could process the devastation, they dragged me, screaming, into a dark, windowless utility closet-a cruel echo of a childhood nightmare Chloe herself had orchestrated. The walls closed in, and I gasped for air, panic seizing me as their laughter mocked me from outside. "We'll let you out when you learn some respect," Brandon' s voice taunted. How could these people, my supposed best friends, my fiancée, plot such a cruel, calculated destruction of my life? Why did they hate me so much? Clutching my phone, I knew I couldn't just survive; I had to fight back, not with their petty cruelty, but with every weapon I had. This wasn't a prank; it was a war, and I was just getting started./1/113757/coverorgin.jpg?v=2d03781bfaaf6e7926e9ddefe05a7339&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Stranger Husband Is A Hidden Zillionaire
To escape my abusive adoptive mother selling me to a loan shark for $50,000, I rushed to City Hall to marry a blind date. In a blind panic, I grabbed the wrong man. He was Julian Cardenas IV, a billionaire CEO who desperately needed a fake wife to dodge a corporate arranged marriage. We signed the papers on the spot. He became my legal shield. He moved me into his pristine penthouse and secretly protected me from my family's violent threats. When I broke down crying in the freezing cold, he quietly left me hot cocoa. For the first time in my life, I felt safe. But then, Julian overheard me complaining to my sister about my constantly breaking-down car, groaning that I had to "get rid of this baby four times." He thought I meant abortions. The man who was slowly melting my frozen heart instantly turned to ice. He threw away the dinner he had specially bought for me, his eyes filled with absolute disgust and blinding rage. I was left entirely confused and terrified. Why did my savior suddenly look at me like I was the most repulsive thing in the world? What had I done to deserve this sudden cruelty? I thought this fake marriage was my ticket out of hell. I didn't realize I had just locked myself in a cage with a furious, ruthless CEO who now wanted to destroy me./1/115165/coverorgin.jpg?v=6c8dd8921e9cb59ddd76d98cc645e7d0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Late For Regret: My Ex-Husband's Downfall
Colette Bentley gripped her terminal leukemia diagnosis, her world shattering. Her only comfort was that her husband, Edwardo, was the country's foremost hematologist. But when she called him, desperate for a lifeline, she didn't hear his reassuring voice. Instead, she heard the playful voice of her own sister, Cleo. "Edwardo, hurry up. The water's getting cold..." As Colette stood outside an exclusive club hours later, collapsing in a pool of her own blood, Edwardo was busy pressing Cleo against his car and gifting her diamonds. He ignored Colette's emergency calls, coldly texting back that he was too busy to be bothered. When Colette miraculously secured a single, priceless vial of an experimental drug to save her own life, Edwardo broke into her private safe and stole it. He fed her life-saving medicine to his mistress to treat a minor symptom, smiling proudly as he claimed he knew Colette wanted to help. "I confirmed it was the VX-7 compound and gave it to Cleo. The effect was miraculous." He had completely erased her existence, casually sentencing his own wife to death to play the hero for the woman who ruined her marriage. How could a doctor who swore to save lives be so monstrous? But Colette wasn't going to die quietly in the shadows. She slapped the smug smile off his face, extorted a hundred-million-dollar divorce settlement, and walked into a rival research institute. This time, she chose to live for herself./0/86850/coverorgin.jpg?v=80a8bb59db128b82f9189fbf5146be31&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Unmasking My Cheating Wife
My daughter Emily' s sobs were the only sound in the car. Her dream, a spot in a prestigious summer research program, had vanished, "reallocated due to unforeseen administrative changes." But then, I saw the name on the payment authorization for the new candidate: Sarah Williams. My wife. The woman who was supposed to be at a spa retreat, who had hugged Emily that morning and told her how proud she was. In that single, searing moment, everything clicked: Sarah' s secretive phone calls, vague explanations for large credit card bills, and suspicious insistence on a supplementary card with a higher limit. It wasn' t a spa retreat; it was a lavish affair, funded by my company, and she was trying to buy her lover' s daughter a spot in Emily' s program. My blood ran cold. Betrayal wasn't a strong enough word. This was a demolition of my family, financed with my own money. "MARK, WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO? ANSWER YOUR PHONE NOW!" Her voice, usually gentle, was now sharp and accusatory. There was no shame, only entitlement. I realized this wasn't a mistake; it was a pattern. She saw my generosity as a weakness to be exploited. "No," I said simply. "The cards are staying off." I looked at Kevin, the man who believed he held all the power. "You were saying something about winning? Let's see how long that feeling lasts."/0/83252/coverorgin.jpg?v=458ea1529935ac05eeb2b9d3e8eb96bb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The $25,000 Bet: A Family's Fight
The O'Connell's American dream was simple: securing Kevin's college fund and ensuring Mom's life-saving surgery. Mike, a humble steel mill supervisor, and Lisa, a diligent part-time waitress, meticulously clawed every dollar, slowly building their future brick by painstaking brick. Then came Thanksgiving, and the bitter scent of burnt turkey wasn't just from the oven. Lisa, pale and trembling, confessed a shattering truth: their entire $25,000 savings – every penny, every hope – had vanished in a single, rigged poker game. Their meticulously built future crumbled into dust, Mom's surgery and Kevin's college dreams instantly ripped away. Lisa was a broken woman, sobbing on the cold kitchen floor, their world crashing down around them. The vast emptiness now where their savings once lay was a gaping wound. But Mike knew this wasn't mere bad luck or a costly mistake. This was a calculated, cruel trap, set by Lisa's manipulative "friend" and a notorious cardsharp, exploiting their vulnerability. The quiet steelworker felt a burning injustice, a cold, hard knot of resolve forming in his gut. How could they possibly let this stand? By morning, the quiet family man had made his decision. He would walk back into that dimly lit bar, armed with a mere $200 and a secret past, to face the predators who stole their future. Because Mike O'Connell was more than just a supervisor; for his family, "The Philadelphia Phantom" was coming out of retirement for one last, desperate game./0/81062/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106194659&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Beneath the Uniform: A Soldier's Betrayal
As a military wife, I simply wanted to get my son, Les, an ID card at the Fort Cypress DEERS office so he could finally access vital medical care for his persistent cough. But the clerk's chilling words revealed a nightmare: my husband, Captain Michael Turner, had fraudulently listed another child, Tyler-Brenda' s son-as his dependent, effectively denying our own son access to military benefits while living a brazen double life. This current betrayal was a devastating echo of a past I now remembered, where Michael's neglect led to Les' s abduction and my utter despair, as he continued his cruelty by dismissing Les' s worsening illness and even slapping him for crying over a destroyed toy. The burning injustice solidified within me, leaving me furious and bewildered at how this military officer could so callously betray his family, neglect his child, and brazenly defraud the very system he swore to serve, especially as town whispers and Michael' s legal threats tightened their grip around me. No more: Michael' s final, cruel slap on Les' s innocent face wasn't a defeat but the ultimate catalyst, igniting an unyielding resolve within me to fight back, expose his every lie, and ensure that armed with the bitter lessons of a nightmare past, Captain Michael Turner would face true justice at Fort Cypress, securing my son a future he deserved./1/104684/coverorgin.jpg?v=9b23f2397793c2b8555a19b9627fe6b1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Mated To My Ex's Ruthless Brother
At 3:12 AM, a call from the NYPD shattered the silence of my dorm. My childhood sweetheart and the city’s golden heir, Liam Sterling, was in custody and needed me to bail him out. I rushed to the precinct, trembling as I swiped my father’s emergency credit card for five thousand dollars, only to watch Liam walk out and head straight for another woman. He had landed in a cell because he’d started a brawl to protect Jade—a girl with pink hair and a jagged attitude—while I was just the "best friend" he called to clean up his mess. In the backseat of the cab I paid for, I watched the man I loved pull her into his lap, treating me like an invisible chauffeur. When I finally demanded the truth, he didn't apologize; he reminded me that our families were tied by a multi-million dollar merger and that I was "like a sister" to him. My own mother echoed his coldness, telling me to stop being dramatic because our family was secretly bankrupt and we needed the Sterling money to survive. I spent years being his "good girl," even recording a fake video for the press claiming he was a hero who fought to defend my honor. But the illusion shattered when I saw the photos of him with Jade on my birthday—the same night he told me he was working late to secure our future. "I love you, Zoe. Like I love my dog. You’re loyal, but you’re boring." I realized then that I wasn't his partner; I was his shield. He used the trauma of the day he "saved" my life to keep me in his debt, never realizing that the chains of gratitude had finally snapped. As the Sterling empire began to crumble under a sudden leak of scandals, I didn't run back to Liam. Instead, I looked at the encrypted message from his dangerous, outcast brother, Julian, who had been waiting in the shadows. He didn't just offer me a way out; he offered to buy my family's debt and claim me as the collateral./1/116104/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260528193909&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Late, CEO: Your Ex-Wife Is Gone
Arielle barely survived a terrifying plane crash. Trembling and soaked in rain, she rushed back to her penthouse, desperately needing her husband's embrace. But when she opened the heavy door, she found a pair of cheap pink stilettos in the foyer. Her billionaire husband, Julian, was intimately drinking bourbon with the new network intern on their living room sofa. Instead of asking if she was hurt, Julian glared at her wet clothes with disgust. "You are ruining the imported Persian rug. Your tardiness embarrassed me." Arielle soon discovered the horrifying truth. The airline had called Julian when her private jet was plunging toward the earth. He knew she was facing imminent death, but he chose to ignore it for a routine board meeting. Worse, he spent that very evening flirting with his mistress in their home. When Arielle confronted him, he threw a black Amex card at her to buy her silence. He even abused his power as CEO to replace her veteran prime-time anchor with the intern. Looking at the man who once promised to protect her above all else, Arielle felt a freezing numbness spread through her chest. How could the man she loved for seven years become a cold-blooded stranger who didn't even care if she lived or died? The last thread of her love completely snapped. Arielle threw his credit card into the trash, signed the divorce papers demanding sole custody of their son, and walked out of his empire for good./1/115009/coverorgin.jpg?v=c1f034fa26e6dab1c7f4d9654d182231&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Trapped By The Possessive Esports God
I was a Twitch streamer who got publicly humiliated by my toxic ex-boyfriend during a live broadcast. To save face, I blurted out a massive lie. I claimed that "Killer," the untouchable god of the esports world, was actively pursuing me. But just ten minutes after I panic-quit my stream, the doorbell rang, and the esports god himself was standing at my front door with a suitcase. "I'm the new roommate. I have nowhere else to go," he said, looking like a lost golden retriever hiding from crazy fans. He moved into my apartment, acting entirely sweet and helpless. He couldn't even put on a duvet cover, but he made me a perfect breakfast and gently cared for me when I got hurt. He looked so genuinely innocent that I felt sick with absolute guilt for using his name for internet clout. When my ex's fans organized a massive hate campaign against me, I aggressively tweeted back to protect my new roommate's honor, doubling down on my lie. But I didn't understand why he immediately liked my tweet, sending the entire internet into a total meltdown. I thought he was just a pure, naive gamer following his manager's PR advice to defuse the drama. I had no idea that behind his polite smile, he wasn't innocent at all. He was a ruthless, obsessive predator who had already manipulated his way into my home, and I had just locked myself in a cage with him./0/84191/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106204249&imageMogr2/format/webp)
They Asked for My Kidney, I Gave Them Hell
Three years ago, I saved a stranger' s life by donating a kidney, an anonymous act of compassion. Now, a year after losing my heroic fiancé, Andrew, I' m pregnant with his child, the only piece of him I have left. My life should be about new beginnings. But then, a knock on my door shattered everything. Standing there were Molly Chadwick, the woman I' d saved, and her parents, their faces grim. Molly' s donated kidney was failing, and they weren't there to thank me. They were there to demand my other kidney, for her, immediately. I refused. How could I sacrifice my unborn baby? Their pleas turned to threats, then a public smear campaign that branded me a monster. One night, they ambushed me. I woke up in a sterile clinic in Mexico, terrified, realizing they planned to forcibly take my kidney. I begged, pleaded for my baby, but they ignored me. The anesthetic surged, and I felt life drain away. I died on that table. But then, I woke up. In my own bed. My baby still safe inside me. The date on my phone was three days before they ever came to my door. The horrific memory was physically crushing, but beneath it, a burning fury ignited. I' d been given a second chance. Not for peace, but for vengeance. This time, I would protect my child. And the Chadwicks would pay./0/94203/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106214318&imageMogr2/format/webp)
A Ghost's Vengeance For Lost Love
My family stormed into my apartment, not to celebrate my prestigious science award, but to drag me to my influencer sister' s party. They didn' t know that just downstairs, I was bleeding out on the cold basement floor after an attack. With my last breath, I called for help. My brother texted me to "grow up." My mother left a voicemail scolding me for my "embarrassing little tantrum." My last hope was my fiancé, Daxton. I gasped that I thought I was dying. He sighed, annoyed. "Anabella, you' re being dramatic. Don't ruin Kamryn's big night." Then he hung up. They thought I was jealous. They thought I was trying to steal my sister's spotlight. But I wasn't. I was dead. And now, as a ghost trapped in my own home, I have to watch the people who let me die… and wait for them to finally find my body./0/83096/coverorgin.jpg?v=43d0ca38b385494b50edfe969673c7ac&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Six Years Buried: The Daughter I Never Forgot
Six years ago, U.S. Marshal Sarah Miller vanished. She was buried under a new identity and a surgeon's scalpel, believed dead after a top-secret mission. Now, she's back, a ghost in her old life. But her heart hammers for one person: her daughter, Lily. Arriving at Lily's elite boarding school, Sarah expects a reunion, not a nightmare. She watches, horrified, as Lily is slapped and publicly humiliated by a vicious, spoiled girl named Isabella. All while the very people Sarah entrusted Lily's care to—her late husband's best friend, a respected Judge, her childhood companion, and her former housekeeper—stand by, comforting the attacker and calling Lily "Izzy." Her "guardians," dripping in designer labels and fake concern, have not only renamed Lily "Izzy," but have crowned Isabella "Lily Vance," heiress to Sarah's vast estate, openly referring to Sarah as "deceased." Her own child is kicked, ridiculed as a "charity case," and a "bad seed," while the imposter thrives on stolen wealth and affection. The monstrous, calculated betrayal cuts deeper than any physical wound; how could those she trusted most twist her meticulously laid plans into such a vile deception? But then, a raw, desperate whisper from her daughter, "Mommy?" shatters Sarah's disguise and ignites the rage of a mother scorned. The U.S. Marshal is back, and she's activating "Phoenix Protocol" to reclaim every stolen piece of her daughter's life and make every single betrayer pay./0/38668/coverorgin.jpg?v=83a401358742ee2404d129d714faa17c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Love in Between
BLURB Bruce Clayton, a billionaire CEO in disguise seeking a normal life, comes into Ava's life and company and turns her life around. They fall madly in love and after Ava gets pregnant for Bruce, he disappears from her life the same way he entered, leaving her in ruins. Only for her to realize she never knew who the real Bruce Clayton was. Their companies are rivals and it seems that wherever Bruce and Ava go with their feelings for each other, trouble follows. Everything and everyone around them sets them up to be at war with each other but their love for each other was still there amidst the betrayal and thirst for revenge. With powerful enemies on both sides trying bring them down and the duties to their respective companies, will Ava and Bruce be able to come out of this battle for love and power strong? Or will they succumb to their enemies or even end up being the downfall of each other?/1/117356/coverorgin.jpg?v=0442ebb01fea6134b16ff71c10c609e2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Late To Save Your Dying Wife
Corrie was diagnosed with stage four stomach cancer. The first thing she did was ask her billionaire husband for a divorce and her share of the assets to save her dying father. Instead of giving her the money, Clayton ruthlessly crushed her diamond wedding ring under his shoe in public. "Your father drove my sister to suicide, and now he deserves to die," he sneered, admitting he was the one who bankrupted her family's company. Desperate, Corrie swallowed her pride and begged her estranged, wealthy mother for help. But when she walked into the mansion, she was met with a devastating sight. Clayton and his mistress were there, holding a pair of twin boys. Her own mother was happily playing the role of grandmother to her husband's illegitimate children. While Corrie had been grieving the baby she lost alone in a cold hospital, her husband had been building a secret family, and her mother had helped them hide it. The double betrayal shattered her completely. Why did her husband marry her just to use her as a pawn for his sick revenge? Why did her own flesh and blood side with the man who was actively destroying her life? Saved from the freezing rain by a doctor friend, Corrie stared at the aggressive chemotherapy plan. She had wanted to just give up and let the cancer take her. But now, a cold fire ignited in her chest. "I'll do the treatment," she said, her voice like ice. She was going to survive, and she was going to make every single one of them pay./1/112663/coverorgin.jpg?v=7cb856c287e432df06697759c1f1960e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Rising From Ashes: My Masked Runway Comeback
I sat in the emergency room corridor, pressing a soaked bandage against my heavily bleeding arm. I had texted my husband of three years, billionaire Efford Thornton, begging him to come. He did come, but he walked right past me as if I were a piece of furniture. When the doctor finally brought the last bag of O-negative blood in the city to save my life, Efford's assistant intercepted it. Efford coldly ordered the blood to be sent to the VIP wing for Aletha Chase. "Mrs. Chase is pregnant with the Thornton heir," he declared flatly. "The priority is non-negotiable." As I watched my life-saving blood being carried away, he handed me a divorce agreement and an NDA. If I dared to expose his affair, he would immediately cut off the funding for my grandmother's dementia care, leaving her to rot in a public ward. He then turned his back, leaving me to bleed out in the hallway. For three years, I had given up my career and my identity to be his perfect, compliant wife. I couldn't understand how the man who once looked at me like I was his whole world could now literally watch me die just to protect his mistress. But he forgot one thing. The submissive wife he married was just a ghost. I wiped the blood from my hands, dug out the leather half-mask I had hidden away years ago, and made a call. It was time for the legendary runway model "Phoenix" to rise from the ashes and burn his empire to the ground./0/80750/coverorgin.jpg?v=a029ada3d61e0a2c4534076d6590c6fe&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Golden Cage, Her Deadly Trap
She saved him from a fire, and it cost her everything. Sarah Miller, society’s golden girl, married Ethan Vance, the charming man she pulled from the flames – a heroic act that left her with a secret, fatal internal injury. Their union seemed destined, a testament to her sacrifice. But their fairy tale shattered. Consumed by a venomous inferiority complex, Ethan systematically destroyed her family’s empire, orchestrating her parents’ tragic deaths and her sister’s ruin. He then caged Sarah in their opulent mansion, transforming it into her gilded prison. Forced to serve his parade of mistresses, enduring relentless psychological torture and physical abuse, Sarah withered. Her hidden injury worsened, a constant, agonizing reminder of the life she’d sacrificed, now rapidly accelerating her inevitable death. With mere days left, as Ethan gleefully desecrated her cherished family heirlooms, a chilling clarity settled over her. She couldn’t save herself, but she could avenge them. What greater justice than using his own cruelty as his undoing? Now, facing her final moments, Sarah orchestrates an audacious, deadly gambit. She will leverage her fatal peanut allergy, transforming her demise into an inescapable trap, meticulously designed to expose Ethan’s monstrous crimes and ensure his absolute, public downfall./0/85756/coverorgin.jpg?v=410a9f8ea94b4d2ab526ce0b0bfb7524&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Shattered Dreams, Stolen Lives
The world first saw the crash. A cherry-red sports car, crumpled like a can, embedded in the ornate gates of the prestigious Blackwood Art Gallery. Inside, I was slumped over the wheel, a faint, serene smile on my lips that made no sense. Gallery staff rushed out, their faces pale, trying to pull my eyelids shut. They wouldn't stay closed. My wide, vacant eyes stared out, refusing to be silenced. The police called it a tragic accident. The powerful Blackwood family issued a brief statement, an attempt to smother the truth with their influence. But truth has a way of finding cracks. An intern leaked my autopsy report: tongue surgically removed, knees bruised with calluses, stomach filled not with food, but with gnawed animal bones and phlegm. My death became a national nightmare. People raged online, demanding #JusticeForJaneDoe. I watched as a wispy, translucent soul. Dr. Alex Peterson, the medical examiner, refused to be silenced, seeing past the official story. "This wasn't an accident," he said. "She delivered a message." Pressure from city hall mounted, ordering him to close the case. Then, something impossible happened. The stitches meant to keep my eyes closed snapped, and they opened again, a silent act of defiance. The internet erupted. My spirit couldn't rest. People began digging, finding old articles about "muse-slaves," human beings treated as living art objects. It felt terrifyingly real. Dr. Peterson defied his superiors, ruling my death a homicide. With public outcry, a full investigation began. But every lead was a dead end: no wallet, no phone, disabled GPS, conveniently malfunctioning cameras. I longed to scream names, places. The public's patience wore thin, protestors demanding answers. Then, a radical idea emerged: a "Memory-Reader," a device to access the last images in my brain. Against all odds, the authorities agreed. My body, cryogenically preserved, was placed on a stage. The Blackwood family sat in the front row, an obscenity of feigned innocence. Among them, Michael, my brother, with a troubled look in his eyes. Dr. Peterson fitted a chrome helmet to my head. The monitors flickered to life. Static. Chloe Blackwood's dismissive voice echoed, "What a waste of time. This is boring." But then, a jolt. The static cleared. The world was inside my head. A dimly lit room. My parents and a shadowy figure. "She is the price," my mother said, emotionless. "A daughter for a pigment. We can always have another." A collective gasp filled the auditorium. The truth began to unfold./1/104685/coverorgin.jpg?v=6991a5850d4652e15f10592d2830de70&imageMogr2/format/webp)
