Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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The Philanthropist's Daughter, The Traitor's Wife
Five years ago, my parents, philanthropists who lost everything in a financial crisis, were framed for fraud and died with their names destroyed. My fiancé, Jaydan Beasley, was my only light, my savior, defying everyone to stand by me. Today, I spent my last twenty dollars on roses for him, celebrating our love, unaware that the man I adored was systematically stealing my life's work-a social impact project meant to redeem my family's name-and funneling it to his old flame, Cuba Dawson. I overheard him, his voice chillingly unfamiliar, confessing his deceit to his best friend. He called me "fragile," "trusting," a "charity case," and revealed our entire marriage was a calculated strategy to pave the way for Cuba's success. The roses slipped from my hand, my world shattering. He had meticulously planned to discard me once Cuba's company went public, leaving me with nothing, again. The man I thought was my protector was, in fact, my destroyer, turning my milestones into markers of his betrayal. The love I felt curdled into a cold, hard rage. He had taken everything-my family's name, my work, my love. But he had no idea who he was dealing with. I would make them pay. I would take it all back./1/115031/coverorgin.jpg?v=71c40cfd91771a5a73ba17e7ca86cfa3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Unwanted Healer's Thirty-Day Fake Marriage
Cynthia saved a dying billionaire on a train with a single silver needle, accidentally leaving her broken bracelet behind. Her greedy cousin claimed the bracelet and the credit. Cynthia didn't care. To stop her cruel aunt from pulling the plug on her uncle's life support, she cornered the paranoid billionaire, Dominic Church, into a thirty-day fake engagement. But Dominic was convinced she was a manipulative gold-digger. When his own grandmother secretly laced his mansion with aphrodisiacs to force them together, Dominic's paranoia snapped. He pinned Cynthia against the wall, his eyes filled with absolute disgust. "If you were the last woman on earth, I would cut off my own hands before I touched you." Ignoring her desperate explanations, he coldly ordered his massive bodyguard to throw her into the freezing outdoor pool. The icy water instantly triggered Cynthia's horrific childhood trauma of a deadly plane crash. Her lungs seized. As she sank into the dark depths, thrashing and suffocating, she couldn't understand why the man whose life she had saved was now ruthlessly taking hers. It wasn't until Dominic saw the security footage proving her absolute innocence that his paranoid delusions shattered. Trembling, he dropped to his knees beside her lifeless, blue body. But when Cynthia finally opened her eyes, the thirty-day contract was dead, and she was ready to make him pay./0/81710/coverorgin.jpg?v=a51a54aa434e33bc54ab9620d1c0b80a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Don't Mess With the Cat Lady
I' m Chloe, a nursing student, always broke and buried in textbooks, a stark contrast to my influencer-wannabe roommate, Tiffany. We tolerated each other, barely. Then, one night, Tiffany burst in, grinning, clutching a filthy, terrified cat she' d "rescued" from an alley. "Meet Scrappy!" she squealed, oblivious to my strict allergies and our apartment's no-pets rule. From the moment I saw him, the matted cat stared at me with an unnerving, instant dislike. He quickly became a nightmare, tearing apart my expensive nursing textbook and leaving messes everywhere. Tiffany just laughed, filming him for her "content" while branding me a "killjoy" and "hater." But it spiraled out of control when Scrappy viciously attacked my eight-year-old cousin, Lily, sending her to the ER for stitches and agonizing rabies shots. My hands shook with a cold, desperate fury. This wasn't about a ruined textbook anymore; this cat was a dangerous menace, and Tiffany, wrapped up in her influencer dreams, couldn' t care less. I tried desperately to get rid of him, but she stopped me, and he escaped. Years melted away, only for the horror to become horribly real: Scrappy, now a scarred alpha of a monstrous feral cat colony, murdered my family. I screamed, and then, mercifully, nothingness. I woke up. Sunlight streamed through my old apartment window. I heard Tiffany' s chirpy voice from the living room: "Chloe! Look!" It was the exact same day. The same terrifying cat. I' d seen the future, and this time, I knew precisely what needed to be done./1/102829/coverorgin.jpg?v=7ff2dfcbb49082d4339b05d64c255948&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Never Loved You, Just A Placeholder
For five years, I paid for his art, his life, and his striking resemblance to a ghost. Karson Willis was my carefully curated substitute, a warm body to fill the space left by the man I' d lost. Then, my world shattered. My adoptive family found their biological daughter, and my inheritance vanished overnight. I was cut off, exiled. That' s when I overheard him laughing. "She's broke," he scoffed. "What's the point? She was useful, but that's over now." He called our five years a "convenience" and mocked the wedding board I' d secretly made. At a company dinner, he kissed another woman in front of everyone, then left me stranded when I fell ill, accusing me of being cruel. He even brought her into my home, letting her wear my clothes. I endured it all, a cold clarity settling over me. So when he finally got down on one knee, ring in hand, begging for a second chance, I didn't even hesitate. "I never loved you," I said, pulling my hand away. "You were just a placeholder."/1/107835/coverorgin.jpg?v=01bd40d2404827780433eeb6fe4e04d8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Fiancé Married Me To His Brother
To the world, I was Delia Fitzgerald, the spoiled, vacuous daughter of the South's wealthiest family. But behind the practiced pout and expensive stilettos, I was a sleeper agent, a shadow trained for war. The mask cracked the night my fiancé, Ansel Gibson, dumped me in the rain. He didn't just break the engagement; he recoiled in physical disgust, claiming that the very sight of me made him physically ill. When I returned home, I expected my father to be furious about the failed business merger. Instead, I found him paralyzed by a primal terror I had never seen. It wasn't about the money; it was about a "blood debt" and a mysterious parchment that held our family's lives in the balance. "You will go to the Gibsons and beg for forgiveness," my father rasped, his hands shaking uncontrollably. "If this contract is broken, there will be blood." My own brothers, men who usually ruled the city, could only watch in grim silence. I realized then that I wasn't a daughter to them-I was currency, a lamb being led to the slaughter to pay for a secret I didn't even know existed. I didn't understand why the Gibsons were so obsessed with me, or why Killian Gibson-the family's true monster-was suddenly tracking my every move with a predatory smile. He traced the callouses on my hands, marks from thousands of rounds of gunfire that no debutante should have, and whispered that he wanted me where he could see me. If they wanted a pawn, they picked the wrong girl. I decided to stop running and walked straight into the lion's den, accepting a job as Killian's "Chief Special Assistant." I was going to find that parchment and tear their world apart from the inside. The game had officially begun, and this time, the "Baby Girl" was the one holding the knife./1/116752/coverorgin.jpg?v=8d9e5ad346d96a4a839be9d8ff8a4755&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Lethal Captivation: You Can Never Escape
Two years ago, Chloe witnessed a brutal mafia execution in a desolate Vegas alley. To survive, she pretended to be legally blind, clinging to the ruthless mafia boss's leg and crying for her "Uncle" to take her home. She thought her pathetic acting had fooled the grim reaper. But two years later, her best friend was violently kidnapped, and Chloe was blackmailed into wearing a revealing velvet uniform to serve drinks in a deadly VIP suite. Trembling on the floor, she knelt to pour the whiskey, only to lock eyes with the exact same mafia boss, Axel Stone. He recognized his "blind" little rabbit instantly. When a rival gang leader tried to slap Chloe for spilling a drink, Axel effortlessly caught the man's wrist, nearly breaking it. His pitch-black eyes swept over the fresh bruises on her collarbone, radiating a lethal, territorial fury before he coldly claimed her as his own. Terrified, Chloe fled to a cramped apartment and forged an HIV-positive medical report. She didn't understand why this billionaire predator was so obsessed with a random, helpless college girl. She shoved the fake report against his chest, screaming that she was dirty and infected, desperately waiting for the disgust that would finally set her free. Instead, Axel let out a dark, suppressed laugh and pinned her hard against the mattress, his kiss brutal and punishing. "Even if you are rotting from the inside out, you are mine. If you are going to die, I will go to hell with you." The running game was over, and her true nightmare had just begun./1/119255/coverorgin.jpg?v=385fb609fe1a3ca450a53ab79b683ed4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Divorced Heiress: Too Late For Regrets
Hadley dragged her injured body back to New York, enduring severe decompression sickness just to surprise her husband of three years. But when she pushed open the doors to his penthouse office, she found her stepsister, Eleanor, sitting on his lap. Instead of feeling guilty, Julian scowled and scolded Hadley for not knocking. He completely ignored her pale face and the horrific bruises on her collarbone. When Eleanor mocked her near-fatal diving accident, Julian simply told Hadley to stop causing drama. He laughed at her demand for a divorce, swearing she would be sleeping on the streets within a week. To punish her, he drafted a brutal agreement that stripped her of every single penny, fully expecting her to break down. "You leave me, and you have nothing. You'll come crawling back." For three years, Hadley had given up her career as a brilliant marine biologist to be his perfect, quiet wife. She had endured his coldness, thinking she could warm his heart, but all she got was utter humiliation. She finally saw him for exactly what he was. Without shedding a single tear, Hadley signed the ruthless divorce papers in front of the media and walked away empty-handed. But as Julian waited for her inevitable surrender, a fleet of bulletproof Maybachs pulled up to the curb. The head of the world's most powerful family stepped out, wrapping his coat around her. It was time for the true Beaumont heiress to go home./1/114562/coverorgin.jpg?v=6270567d357889f4d399229a7cf72592&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Placeholder Wife: A Twin's Deceit
My fiancé, Jameson Blair, married my twin sister today. For five years, I was a placeholder, a substitute for the woman he truly wanted, and I pretended not to know. Today, she came back with a story of terminal cancer and a dying wish to marry him. It was a perfect lie, and he chose to believe it, shattering my world with three simple words: "She's Haleigh." They left me on the sidewalk, an outcast from my own blood. My brothers, who once promised to protect me, celebrated the woman who broke me. They moved my things to a guest room, making space for their prodigal sister. That night, Haleigh gave me a "welcome home" gift—a box with a brown recluse spider inside. As the venom coursed through me, my family rushed to her side, calling my agony "a little spider bite." They left me convulsing on the floor. Later, they whipped me for a crime I didn't commit, hung me off a cliff, and left me for dead. My body is a roadmap of their love. Each scar, each broken bone, is a testament to their betrayal. They believed her lies, but their real crime was never truly seeing me. As I clung to that cliff, bleeding and broken, a single thought consumed me: Isabella Douglas died here tonight. Now, Isabella Hale would be born from the ashes./1/115970/coverorgin.jpg?v=3d91fe752dbe5685da351d9971cf336e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn Heiress: My Ex-Husband's Ruin
Genevieve was heavily pregnant, holding the legal papers that would transfer her massive family trust fund to her loving husband, Clinton. But as she approached his study, she heard a familiar giggle. Through the cracked door, she saw her cousin Carolynn sitting on his desk, her skirt hiked up, while Clinton smirked and poured bourbon. "Once she signs those papers, we don't need her anymore," Clinton laughed coldly. "The kidnapping is staged for tomorrow. She and the brat disappear permanently." Genevieve gasped, and he spotted her. When she frantically tried to run, her trusted housekeeper blocked the stairs. Clinton dragged her back, beat her mercilessly, and locked her in a freezing, underground cellar. Denied any medical help, she endured agonizing hours of labor alone in the dark, only to deliver a stillborn child. Clinton then walked in, ruthlessly tossed her dead baby's tiny body into a pile of dirty rags, and brutally strangled her. As her lungs burned and the world faded to black, her heart shattered into a million jagged pieces. She had given him everything. How could they be so monstrous as to murder her and her innocent child just for money? Opening her eyes again, the freezing cellar was gone. She was standing in an emerald silk gown at an elite charity gala—the exact night their original kidnapping plot began, a month before she even announced her pregnancy. This time, the naive socialite was dead, and she was going to make them pay in blood./0/99857/coverorgin.jpg?v=48b678171aa93afcb95183db2b7d3412&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Price Of His Twisted Love
Eight years ago, my husband, Greyson, framed me for a car accident that cost me my legs, my parents, and my unborn child. He did it all to protect another woman, his political prodigy friend, Isla. He threw me in prison for three years, using my mother's fragile life as leverage to keep me silent and compliant. I was his puppet, a broken ballerina whose only escape was the phantom ache of a dance I could no longer perform. After I was released, broken and alone, he knelt before me on my comeback stage, confessing everything to a live audience. He admitted he faked the explicit photos that ruined my name and that Isla was the one who hit me with her car. He said he did it all for love, a twisted, possessive love that destroyed everything it touched. But his confession had a price. He had already killed Isla. And as he was sentenced to death, he had one last request: to see me./0/81241/coverorgin.jpg?v=9dd1925eed44a107dbf7f230bb36dcf3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Ballerina's Broken Steps
Ava Miller, a twenty-one-year-old ballerina, had loved her step-brother Ethan Hayes since she was fifteen. For six years, their passionate, secret affair was her entire world, filled with whispered promises of Europe and forever. She believed he was her soulmate, the king to her queen in their private realm. But after a horrific car accident shattered her legs, the truth shattered her heart even more profoundly. From her hospital bed, she overheard Ethan, the man she adored, calmly admitting he orchestrated the crash. He sneered, revealing their entire relationship was a meticulously planned revenge plot against her mother. He wanted to destroy her dancing career and publicly humiliate her, calling her a "gold-digger's daughter." Her dreams, her body, and every memory of their stolen moments were reduced to a tool in his cruel game. Even as he feigned devastation and vowed to care for her, her world crumbled into excruciating pain and utter betrayal. He later brought his childhood love, Chloe Vanderbilt, into their home, showcasing his true affections right before Ava's eyes. He then abandoned Ava, leaving her to die, not once, but twice. Six years of her youth, her devotion, her very self, were all a lie, a twisted performance for his twisted revenge. How could the man she loved so deeply harbor such venomous hatred? The raw agony of his betrayal was a physical ache, eclipsing even her broken bones. But as her mother offered a sliver of hope for recovery in Vail, a fierce, cold determination ignited within Ava. She vowed to heal, escape, and make him pay for every tear, every broken bone, and every beautiful, shattered lie. Her revenge would be swift, public, and far more devastating than anything Ethan could have imagined./0/88750/coverorgin.jpg?v=8a293ddf5b297ef6773525de00e6aaca&imageMogr2/format/webp)
After the Divorce My Husband Regrets Deeply
On our seventh wedding anniversary, Alan Begum and I had a heated argument because of my decision to choose not to have children, and it ended on a sour note. Later, I saw a post on social media from his childhood friend, Danna Ahmed. "From the moment you entered the racing circuit to now being famous, I've always been by your side, and only I have been by your side." She also posted a photo of her with Alan and other teammates. The teammates had teasing expressions as they looked at them, while Alan and Danna exchanged smiles, appearing like a couple. Yet in these seven years, he never allowed me to visit his racing events or meet his teammates. Whenever I asked, he would gently and patiently reassure me. "There are high-speed races on the track. It's too dangerous. You're my dearest, and I'd be heartbroken if you got hurt." But when I pressed further, his gentle demeanor often turned into impatience. We had been married for seven years, and it turned out that the most important person in his heart had been his childhood sweetheart, Danna. Without any drama, I calmly took off my ring, composed a message, and sent it to him. "Alan, let's get a divorce." Then I slipped on the black gloves that had been preserved in the glass cabinet for many years. Since when did high-speed racing become dangerous?/1/104081/coverorgin.jpg?v=e0f20d663c74edc858b9d805515eafb0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Hero Husband's Cruel Betrayal
My husband, Greyson, is a celebrated war hero. When the community center caught fire, he saved a child. But it wasn't our son. He walked right past Karter to rescue another boy, publicly claiming the child as his own. That betrayal was nothing. When Karter later collapsed, his rare heart condition triggering a life-threatening crisis, I ran for his life-saving medication. The safe was empty. Greyson had taken it. He' d given our son' s only dose to the other boy to make him "feel strong." While Karter fought for breath, the news hailed my husband as a selfless hero for his "noble sacrifice." For years, I excused his coldness and blatant favoritism, hoping the man I married would return. But watching him smile on TV as he condemned our son to death, I finally understood. He called my desperate pleas "drama" and hung up. He's convinced I'm too weak to leave, that I'll come crawling back like I always do. He has no idea I've already filed for divorce, severed our mate bond, and am driving our son far away, leaving him to the ruin he so richly deserves./0/95477/coverorgin.jpg?v=9772c843fdc594e1034bb09ed0baa3a4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Broken By Love, Reborn In Fire
The video that destroyed my career was leaked by the man I loved, Adrian Hoffman. He did it so his childhood sweetheart, Ashley, could steal the promotion I had earned. But the betrayal was far more twisted than I could have imagined. I discovered that for three years, the man in my bed wasn't Adrian. It was his identical twin brother, Dean, playing a sick, cruel game. Their plot didn't stop there. They framed me for plagiarism, then held me down on a surgical table to forcibly harvest my skin for Ashley after she disfigured herself to set me up. They even had me thrown in a military prison on false charges. My career, my body, my freedom-all sacrificed for another woman's ambition. I was nothing but a pawn. So I vanished. I cut off all contact and fled to a war zone in Syria, vowing to never return./0/80772/coverorgin.jpg?v=5444392e280f401ba7fb0cae4d7891ef&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Not An Affair, But A War
My marriage to Ethan Miller was a San Francisco fairytale: two powerhouses, two ambitious careers, a glossy picture of success. Until I saw his young executive assistant, Chloe, wearing the very diamond tennis bracelet I’d eyed for myself, a 'token of appreciation' she received from my husband. Suspicion festered when I found her personal items in his car, deepening into chilling certainty when he abandoned a crucial investor dinner to attend to her 'work crisis.' He gaslit me, dismissing my concerns as 'unreasonable,' just before anonymous photos and videos of their intimate hotel stay in Miami arrived, confirming my worst fears. I felt a profound betrayal, the kind that slices deeper than infidelity, realizing I was a pawn in a game I didn't understand. But when I finally moved to file for divorce, an investigation Ethan initiated unearthed a truth far more sinister: Chloe and her cousin had meticulously staged *everything* – from the bracelet to the 'evidence' in his car, even manipulating the Miami photos and attempting to drug him – all to systematically destroy me. Now, the battle isn't just for my freedom, but against a chillingly elaborate scheme. Was I merely a collateral casualty, or the sole, calculated target of their malicious envy?/0/85778/coverorgin.jpg?v=a7805076f4a7eb61502908be03c1ef30&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Test, Her Sacrifice
My sister Sarah' s last message was a cold, digital money transfer. "Chloe, take this money. Pay off Liam' s debts and live a good life. I' m tainted now, I can' t live and drag you down." No goodbye. Just a command and a confession. I knew where she would go-the bridge. I ran, but I was too late. A single shoe, hers, lay by the railing. Everything went silent. I found Liam at a high-end restaurant, laughing with another woman. "Ashley has passed my test," he announced. "I' ll propose to her in three days. She' s good enough to be a stand-in for my late fiancée." A test. My sister' s dignity shattered for a test. Her body sold for a test. Her life, thrown away from a bridge, for a test. The money on my phone burned, her sacrifice for a lie. Then, she was just a "dirty whore," and I was the "pure" replacement. He wanted me to wear his dead fiancée' s symbol and marry him. But on our wedding day, I had a surprise for Liam Sterling. I wouldn' t be his perfect doll. I would be her vengeance./0/81085/coverorgin.jpg?v=2680511561c0a14a39cf05cc327556e7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Father's Stolen Heart
My father, a respected ethics professor, looked peaceful in the mortuary. But then, a chilling detail: a fresh, surgical scar beneath his collar. They said car accident, but his heart was gone. The truth shattered me: his heart, transplanted. To my best friend, Chloe, who was pregnant. And the consent signed by Ethan, my fiancé. When I confronted him, Ethan just shrugged, called it "practical." He even suggested my father's death was a "fortunate coincidence," and I should just get over it. He had the audacity to propose I become the baby's nanny. Then he locked me in a dark room, calling me "hysterical." My father' s heart, stolen and beating in my best friend' s chest. Carrying my fiancé' s child, conceived in betrayal. The cold I felt in the mortuary was nothing compared to the ice forming around my own heart. Did they really think I would accept this, quietly become their hired help? They had awakened something buried deep. My "normal" life was over. I escaped, found a burner phone, and dialed a number I swore I' d never call again. "Marc," I whispered, "I need your help." My past was about to become their nightmare./1/103612/coverorgin.jpg?v=d943f17550c994ec3a2bfa678b54c00b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Protector: The Billionaire's Hidden Devotion
In my last life, I was played for a fool by my charming fiancé, Curtis, and my jealous cousin, Chloe. He promised me the world, but it was all a beautiful illusion built on lies. He stole my ideas, shattered my reputation, and left me broken and alone. My death was ruled an "accident," but I knew the truth. They had orchestrated it all. Chloe, my own cousin, stood by his side, watching with twisted satisfaction as my world burned. They took everything from me-my career, my dignity, and finally, my life. The betrayal was a cold rage that settled deep in my bones. I couldn't understand how I had been so blind to the monster hiding behind his perfect smile. Now, I've opened my eyes to a second chance. I'm back at the beginning, forced to choose a husband to save my family's failing company. On one side is Curtis, the charming serpent who destroyed me. On the other is the cold, ruthless Arjun Becker, a man who promises security, but at what cost? This time, I won't be a fool. I know exactly who to choose./0/93913/coverorgin.jpg?v=a0f1724da2b0c279fb77cb3281e298b5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Together We Rise From Ashes
My sister and I were stranded on a deserted road, eight months pregnant and with a flat tire, when a truck' s headlights pinned us in their glare. It wasn't swerving to avoid us. It was aiming for us. The crash was a symphony of destruction. As a monstrous pain ripped through my pregnant belly, I called my husband, Kade, my voice choked with blood and fear. "Kade… accident… the baby… something' s wrong with the baby." But I didn't hear panic. I heard his stepsister, Florence, whining in the background about a headache. Then came Kade' s voice, cold as ice. "Stop being so dramatic. You probably just bumped a curb. Florence needs me." He hung up. He chose her over me, over his sister-in-law, over his own unborn child. I woke up in the hospital to two truths. My sister, a world-renowned pianist, would never play again. And our son, the baby I had carried for eight months, was gone. They thought we were just collateral damage in their perfect lives. They were about to find out we were the reckoning./1/102830/coverorgin.jpg?v=c17e010cec234998c205257decfccab5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
