Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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His Obsession, My Baby's End
Eight days after my c-section, my husband left me and our hungry, premature newborn alone. He rushed to his manipulative ex-girlfriend, Cassidy, who was faking another one of her "panic attacks," just as he always did. His obsession with "saving" her had already caused our son's premature birth. This time, it got him killed. In a jealous rage, Cassidy slammed her car into us, and my baby was gone. But when I woke up in the hospital, Kevin was protecting her, not me. He told me it was an accident, that her diagnosed mental illness made her not responsible. He even had our son cremated without my consent, erasing all the evidence. He begged me to forgive them, to let it all blow over so we could be a family again. I looked at the man who had destroyed my life and smiled. "I called the police, Kevin," I said, showing him my phone. "And that medical certificate you're holding? It's a fake."/0/59637/coverorgin.jpg?v=d338e31122fb9e6ac1555f6b89a7e08c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
CEO's Love Blunder: Her Sweet Revenge
Blinded by unrequited love, Dayna's world shattered upon learning of Jon's engagement to another girl. Determined to focus on her happiness, she decided to move on. Returning to the workforce, Dayna witnessed her career soar. Soon, admirers flocked to her. Realizing his mistake, Jon wanted her back, but Dayna only responded with a cryptic smile. Following that, she posted online about Jon, the charming CEO, seeking a wealthy, attractive, and virtuous woman to marry. Making matters worse, his contact details were shared across several dating sites!/0/99372/coverorgin.jpg?v=068e94b23b89834aa154c134f94307e1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Rat In Shadows: His Downfall
I endured 121 needle marks on my stomach for the child my husband, Braden, and I desperately wanted. But as I lay on the procedure table, moments from our embryo transfer, he walked out. He left me for his high school sweetheart, Isabella, who was hysterical over her son's scraped knee. He paraded her around in public "family" photos while his own family shamed me at dinner for being too "stiff." When Isabella's son shoved me to the floor, Braden rushed to comfort the boy, not me. He looked at me with pure disgust. "How can you possibly think you'd be a good mother when you behave like this?" he spat. I looked him dead in the eye, my voice shaking but clear. "The funniest part is, Braden? I canceled the embryo transfer." Then, in front of his entire family, I said, "I want a divorce. And this time, I'm not kidding."/0/80756/coverorgin.jpg?v=1387bd800a0eb91a49ef51cd79b4ff19&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Imposter's Game
Saturday mornings were sacred, spent in my garage, polishing my cherished cherry red '69 Camaro. My wife, Emily, had just confirmed her performance check at Sam's Autoworks before our road trip. Life was good, almost perfect. Then the phone rang. Detective Rourke. My Camaro was involved in a fatal hit-and-run, he said. Impossible! It was supposed to be safely at Sam's. But according to the police, it never arrived. At the scene, my world crumbled. My beautiful muscle car was a twisted wreck. Three body bags lay on the asphalt, one terribly small. A furious crowd pointed at me, screaming accusations: I was the driver, laughing, making vile comments, fleeing the scene. Emily arrived, her face aghast as Rourke showed her video stills of 'me' at the wheel. "How could you?" she wailed, slapping me. I was condemned, a monster in the eyes of the world. My wife left me. My parents were targeted and killed in retaliation. I was beaten to death in prison, still grasping for answers, knowing I was innocent. How could such a perfect frame-up happen? What impossible force made me the culprit when I wasn't? Then I opened my eyes. It was Saturday again. My clock read 8:03 AM. I was back. This time, even when the car was stolen despite my precautions and the accident happened again, I wasn't helpless. With the memories of my nightmare life, and a deeper understanding of my car’s unique security, I finally had a fighting chance to reveal the chilling truth behind the monster who stole my life./1/104378/coverorgin.jpg?v=6f8bc1f28c31ae63a639cdf180454aaf&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Tool To Treasure: My New Life
For nine years, I was Kane Hill' s secret. I was his emotional punching bag, the convenient stand-in for my twin sister, Harper-the woman he truly loved. I endured his cruelty, convincing myself his control was a twisted form of love. Then, just before he announced their engagement, Harper sent me a recording. It was Kane, his voice smooth and dismissive. "Eden? She's useful," he told Harper. "An emotional pressure valve. I need to vent on someone so I can be the perfect man for you." The cold truth shattered me. I wasn't a person, not even a substitute. I was a tool. That night, he polished Harper's engagement ring right in front of me before ending our nine-year "game" with a single, bored phone call. He never knew that I was the girl who had saved him at a summer camp all those years ago, not Harper. He'd called my attempts to tell him the truth "pathetic." So I packed a single bag and vanished into the night, leaving his gilded cage for a quiet farm in Vermont. But just as I started to heal, he found me, clutching the proof of my story in his hand, begging for a second chance I had no intention of giving./1/103283/coverorgin.jpg?v=57a47c26ef56aa778dde2e9501b883a9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Raising the Wolves
My father raised seven brilliant orphans to be my potential husbands. For years, I only had eyes for one of them, the cold and distant Caspian Vance, believing his distance was a wall I just had to break through. That belief shattered last night when I found him in the garden, kissing his foster sister, Lyra—the fragile girl my family took in at his request, the one I had treated like my own sister. But the true horror came when I overheard the other six Ashworth Fellows talking in the library. They weren't competing for me. They were working together, orchestrating "accidents" and mocking my "stupid, blind" devotion to keep me away from Caspian. Their loyalty wasn't to me, the heiress who held their futures in her hands. It was to Lyra. I wasn't a woman to be won. I was a foolish burden to be managed. The seven men I grew up with, the men who owed my family everything, were a cult, and she was their queen. This morning, I walked into my father's study to make a decision that would burn their world to the ground. He smiled, asking if I'd finally won Caspian over. "No, Dad," I said, my voice firm. "I'm marrying Silas Blackwood."/1/124402/coverorgin.jpg?v=cb189d10c2622343120a22a66f083a26&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The CEO's Lethal Savior: No Master Here
Serena woke up tied to a rusted iron chair in an abandoned warehouse, her mind completely wiped clean except for her name. A foul-smelling thug walked in with a bloodstained baseball bat, ready to torture her and the kidnapped five-year-old boy strapped to the chair next to hers. But before his blow could land, a terrifying muscle memory hijacked her body. She effortlessly dislocated her own wrist to escape the military-grade knots, broke his nose, and crushed his windpipe with textbook tactical precision. When the boy's father, the ruthless Wall Street tyrant Silas Sterling, stormed in with his mercenaries, he threw a background check in her face. He accused her of being the mastermind—an eighteen-year-old trailer park delinquent with a history of petty vandalism. He sneered at her cheap clothes and smeared makeup, certain she was just greedy street trash. But a cheap delinquent wouldn't know Pentagon-level psychological de-escalation protocols to calm his traumatized son. And a street rat certainly wouldn't possess the alien medical technology and surgical skills to bring his grandmother back from a flatline brain death. Every instinct in Serena's body screamed that this identity was a hastily forged trap, but she had no memory of her past. She tossed the fake file back onto his mahogany desk and signed his hundred-million-dollar contract. "Enroll me in the prep school from this fake file. I am going to find out who I actually am."/0/86388/coverorgin.jpg?v=7641094bb349bb1c7f42a7eedd357bed&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Sister, His Choice: My Freedom
The gallery shimmered with color, a vibrant tribute to my son Leo's first year, his framed finger paintings and tiny plaster casts proudly displayed. My art, my life, my world. Today, I was a proud mother and a celebrated artist. Then the gallery door creaked open, and a cold draft swept in with Brenda, my husband' s sister, her eyes already searching for fault lines. "An entire party for a one-year-old? A little much, don' t you think, Sarah? Most people just do a cake and some balloons." The words cut, but the real sting came when she implied my "art" was just a desperate attempt to contribute financially. Mark, my husband, stood beside me, silent, his arm tightening in a gesture of restraint, not defense. The room grew heavy with unspoken judgment, our friends shifting in discomfort. Brenda, reveling in the awkwardness, then whispered loud enough for me to hear, insulting my post-baby body. My throat tightened, and I fought back tears. This was supposed to be a moment of joy, yet here I was, wounded again by someone who delighted in tearing me down. Later, as "Happy Birthday" filled the air, and Leo' s candle flickered, Brenda' s voice sliced through the sweetness: "I wish he grows up to look a little more like Mark. Right now, with that hair, he could be mistaken for the mailman' s kid." The insinuation was vile, stripping any innocence from the day. Something inside me snapped. "Get out," I said, my voice shaking with a rage I hadn' t known I possessed. But when Brenda feigned tears, my husband, Mark, sided with her. "Sarah, that' s enough," he said, his voice cold. "You are making a scene. Apologize to my sister right now." Apologize? His words hit me harder than any slap. He didn' t defend me; he condemned me. He chose his toxic sister over his family, over me. Was this the man I married? The father of my child? My marriage, my sense of security, crumbled into a lie. My pain didn' t matter; my dignity didn' t matter. Only keeping the peace with Brenda mattered, at my expense. As Linda, my gallery-owner friend, began politely ushering guests out, a horrifying clarity washed over me. I couldn't live a life where I always came second. I had to choose myself. I had to choose my son. The battle for my voice, my boundaries, and my future had just begun./1/115016/coverorgin.jpg?v=0d5d49602fafa39dd5c7c0f9960dee9f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Unwanted Heiress And Her Silent Tears
Abigail was the biological heir to the wealthy Richmond family, finally brought home after sixteen years of living in poverty. But her birth family didn't love her. They were completely obsessed with Debbra, the fake daughter who had been sent away after a DNA test. Her biological brother looked at her faded clothes with unfiltered disgust. He left her standing in the freezing rain, screaming that it was her fault Debbra was gone. Her mother shoved her hard against a wall just for touching a crystal music box. "She is not my daughter! My daughter plays Chopin, not this pathetic hick!" Even at her elite new school, her brother's friends threw her to the marble floor, mocking her as trash. In chemistry class, a boy deliberately knocked over a beaker, splashing corrosive acid onto her wrist. No one helped her. They just ordered her to clean up the mess. Abigail didn't ask to be switched at birth during a chaotic hospital storm. She didn't understand why her mere existence was treated as an unforgivable crime, while the imposter who stole her life was worshipped like a saint. Washing her chemical burns alone in the empty lab, the last shred of her hope for a family completely died. She calmly peeled off her rubber gloves and looked at her pale reflection. She decided to give up on their love and treat them as nothing more than strangers. But just as she chose to become a ghost, a heavy thud echoed in the silent hallway, and a bloody hand slammed violently against the frosted glass of her door./1/113921/coverorgin.jpg?v=c8934c9ca172c1d2ccc2caf8d37bb4c0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The CEO's Runaway Cinderella Returns
At the project kickoff party, Isabelle casually mocked the new capital representative, calling him a suit with a trust fund. A low, magnetic voice spoke from the shadows right behind her. It was Bennett Lloyd, the man holding the purse strings for the entire project. But as Isabelle turned around, her blood ran cold. He wasn't just her new boss. He was the stranger she had a desperate one-night stand with five years ago. The man she had fled from before dawn, leaving only a fake name. In her panic to escape him, Isabelle tripped on the marble stairs and left behind a single, custom-made diamond heel. Bennett found it, but instead of exposing her, he began a terrifying game of cat and mouse. He forced her to be his exclusive on-site consultant, vetoed her vacation time, and isolated her from her team. He trapped her in his office, his touches lingering just enough to remind her of that night, slowly suffocating her professional life as payback. Pushed to the brink of a breakdown by his relentless torment, Isabelle sat in a hotel bar, drowning her panic in vodka. She pulled out her phone, intending to send a voice memo to her best friend to confess the suffocating guilt she had hidden for years. "I can't do this anymore. I'm a sinner. I killed her... I killed my mother." She hit send, only to realize her screen didn't show her friend's name. The confession had gone straight to Bennett Lloyd./1/103127/coverorgin.jpg?v=1bd2f420829df6682fdcab3e62491a4a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
A Scientist's Revenge: New Life
I removed an intern from an award nomination for stealing my dead sister's research. My husband, Craig, was furious. He chose to defend her, not me. His rage turned violent. He destroyed my life's work-a cure for Alzheimer's-then shoved me so hard I miscarried our child. He called me "dramatic" as I bled on the floor. Then he locked me in our home, a prisoner, forcing me to sign over my patents to his mistress, the woman who drove my sister to suicide. He thought he had broken me, that I was his to control. But when he tried to humiliate me in the most depraved way imaginable, I saw my chance. I threw myself from a second-story window. As I lay broken on the ground, watching him rush to his mistress's side, I made a vow. My revenge was just beginning./1/103440/coverorgin.jpg?v=5ee1d150b46222ec72a5f2c978cdbb44&imageMogr2/format/webp)
He Chose Power, She Found Love
Five years after my ex, Clay, traded me for power, we met again at an exclusive summit. He and his new fiancée, Destany, publicly humiliated me, calling me a trespasser and a thief for looking for my son's lost locket. Then, my three-year-old son, Justus, ran to me, crying "Mama!" In a horrifying move, Destany snatched him from my arms. She shrieked to the powerful crowd that I was a low-born commoner who had kidnapped a child of noble blood. The room erupted, calling for my arrest. Clay, the man I once loved, watched with cold satisfaction as guards pinned my arms back. He ordered them to take my son away and deal with me. I screamed that Justus was mine, but my pleas were drowned out by their accusations. How could this be happening? The man who once promised me everything was now helping to rip my child away from me, branding me a criminal. But just as they were about to drag me away, an immense power slammed into the room, forcing everyone to their knees. A tall, imposing figure appeared, his golden eyes blazing with fury. My husband, Damien, had arrived./1/104848/coverorgin.jpg?v=b172ef84da69f6c26970e5a7855b95b9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Not Just An Incubator: The Ex-Wife's Cold Revenge
Ten minutes. That was how close I was to handing my fiancé the keys to a three-hundred-million-dollar empire built on my code. But when I walked into the office, his mistress was sitting in my chair, spinning the pen I bought him for our anniversary. Caleb didn't even look up. He told me the investors wanted stability, not a pregnant woman. He called our unborn child a "liability" and ordered security to escort me out of the building I paid for. I went home to pack, only to find a burner phone hidden in the closet. The texts were brutal. He called me an "incubator." He said once the deal was signed, he’d take the baby and dump the "nerd." When he caught me with the phone, he didn't apologize. He dragged me by my hair and threw me into the soundproof panic room to keep me quiet until the deal closed. "Caleb, please! I'm bleeding!" I pounded on the steel door until my hands were raw. But he just locked it and went to eat pizza with his mistress. Alone in the dark, on the freezing concrete, I felt the life inside me slip away. He hadn't just stolen my company; he had killed my child. He thought I was broken. He thought I was just "the help." But he forgot one thing: I built the security system he was trying to sell. Three days later, I rolled my wheelchair into his victory press conference, flanked by his biggest rival. "Do you trust your new code, Caleb?" "Because I wrote the backdoor. And I just opened it."/0/19277/coverorgin.jpg?v=c6ffceb1adc4e6fd53c3931622443369&imageMogr2/format/webp)
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She Faked Her Death And Returned As A Legend
Genevieve had witnessed Julian's deep affection, but she had also tasted the bitterness of his betrayal. Right in front of him, she set their wedding photo ablaze. He, however, was too busy cradling his phone, sweet-talking his mistress. That was the last straw. Genevieve gave up. She slapped him hard across the face and walked away. Then, she applied to join a secluded and highly confidential research program, erasing every trace of her past identity-including her marriage to him. By the time she disappeared into the research program, Julian's company was on the brink of bankruptcy. Desperate and exhausted from searching for her, he was finally handed a document-a paper suggesting her death. He broke down. "I don't believe it!" When they met again, Julian was stunned to find Genevieve had a completely new identity. Beside her stood a man of such towering influence that Julian felt dwarfed in his presence. He begged, "I was wrong. Please come back to me!" But Genevieve only smiled as she looped her arm through the powerful man's. "Too bad. I'm far beyond your reach now."/0/42899/coverorgin.jpg?v=0bdef79e453cc517e8872cd195f7e2f7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Single Dad
Most college-aged girls go to Europe to experience their sexual awakening. All I had to do was come home. Ford Dalton isn’t the kind of man I’d look at twice—because I can’t stop looking at him at all. We can’t take our hands off each other in the bar. Back at his house, it’s our lips. And in his bed? There isn’t a single part of us that’s not on fire. One night would never be long enough for Ford to show me every delicious thing he can do to my body./1/124872/coverorgin.jpg?v=19c5abbffeb40136ee8c78d319dad74f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Definitely Divorce You
Two years of marriage. Two years of being treated as nothing more than a maid and Eve's shadow. I had no other choice. I did all of this for my mother. For the woman who always tried to end her own life every time Brando-my father-cheated on her, beat her, and kicked her out. Eve. The lover of Bima, my husband. She was the one who forced me into this contract marriage. Because of that contract, my mother survived. Father stopped cheating openly and finally started paying attention to my mother. I signed it without hesitation, even though I had to accept the truth that Bima hated me. He called me a shameless woman who pretended to be Eve just for money. I endured it when Bima was paralyzed. When he cursed at me and begged for Eve by his side. I just had to wait for the right moment. Until one day, I would slam the divorce papers in his face. And let him be happy with Eve-the woman he loved. The woman who left him paralyzed. The woman who was my father's mistress. "I will divorce you!" "As if you can divorce me. Your own mother is willing to die for your father. You'll come crawling back to me for your mother's sake. I'm sick of your shamelessness. Prove that you can take your mother away from me... and I myself will throw those divorce papers in your face. All of this is for Eve... For Eve, who is a thousand times better than you," In this marriage, I am not a wife. I am just a slave to his paralyzed legs./0/79036/coverorgin.jpg?v=c1076ac1e006bc2f7676f105ef4f5bad&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Premiere Night Betrayal
I woke up from a car accident, my head pounding, to Ethan's hushed voice on the phone. Not sweet nothings to me, his injured fiancée, but a deal with his agent to steal my screenplay, "City of Echoes," and give it to A-lister Olivia Monroe. He planned to propose at the premiere, trap me with a ring, and erase me from the narrative of my own success, all for Olivia's comeback and his own glory. The agent, surprisingly, spilled the tea: my early career sacrifice to cover Ethan's plagiarism, and Olivia's involvement in the stress that led to my miscarriage, our baby now gone. Was my entire relationship a carefully woven web of lies, orchestrated by an ambitious man and a manipulative starlet? Then I saw that framed photo of me in Liam Sterling's office: a gesture of respect towards my writing. This realization made me start a new life plan: run, collaborate with Ethan's nemesis, and rewrite my history./0/84042/coverorgin.jpg?v=c85755dc4aec82e52ec3770e62693339&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Discarded Husband, Rising Mogul
Tonight was our tenth anniversary, wrapping up ten years of a meticulously kept contractual marriage. For a decade, I, Ethan Lester, had been the silent architect behind my wife Sabrina Chadwick' s booming real estate empire. I managed her entire life, a dutiful husband and housekeeper, all to repay her for saving my father' s life. But then, she walked in, not alone, but with a smug-faced young man. "So this is the famous kept man," Caleb sneered, his words echoing through our Manhattan penthouse lobby. Sabrina, my wife, my partner of ten years, pulled him towards the elevator, her expression chillingly indifferent, utterly ignoring me. She didn' t care that her protégé was publicly humiliating me. She didn' t care what I felt when I overheard them that night, or the next morning when she ordered me to make them breakfast. I had been nothing but a loyal servant, and now, even that seemed to be beneath her consideration. I was left on a gurney in a crowded hospital hallway with a broken ankle after a car crash SHE forced me into, while she pampered Caleb over a scratch. That was the moment I realized the ultimate insult: I was just a possession, easily discarded. When the doctor asked for my family contacts, I looked him dead in the eye and said, "I have no family. Take her name off." I had been a fool to ever think love could bloom from a bargain, or that I could ever truly matter to her. Now, instead of cleaning her mess, I' m building my own empire. She desperately wants me back, but she has no idea what' s coming./0/86545/coverorgin.jpg?v=760356dd8770398d4297543470984801&imageMogr2/format/webp)
