Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
/0/98777/coverorgin.jpg?v=8ca20a55f2b96bfc5b3e7ec50ff7ac04&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Poisoned, Shot, Reborn: Now Watch Me
For ten years, I was the invisible architect of my husband's tech empire, forced to manage his parade of publicly funded mistresses. But he crossed a line when he destroyed my father's last legacy-a priceless block of marble-to carve a statue for his new obsession, Isla. When I confronted him, he had me shot, poisoned, and left for dead in a basement. He framed me for attempting to murder Isla, turning our entire world against me. He chose her, always her, even as she dragged me to a cliff's edge, ready to push me into the ocean below. "Choose, Elliott!" she screamed. "Her or me!" "You," he choked out, his eyes on Isla. "I choose you." With his betrayal echoing in the wind, Isla threw my father's sculpture into the sea. And as the last piece of my heart sank into the abyss, I smiled. Then, I jumped./1/118244/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260601181401&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Unwanted Wife Is A Secret Genius
Hannah Compton sat in the oncologist's office, staring at a crisp medical report that read like a death sentence: stage two stomach cancer. But the real fatal blow came moments later. Her billionaire husband, Branden, texted her a cold excuse about a late meeting, confirming the source of the sweet perfume she had smelled on his collar—her younger, illegitimate half-sister, Bailey. For three years, Hannah had abandoned a brilliant career in AI medical research to be his perfect, invisible wife. Now, as a tumor violently twisted inside her, he was publicly parading her half-sister around and buying her million-dollar sapphires. When Hannah collapsed in agonizing pain on the marble floor of their mansion, Branden didn't call an ambulance. "Stop acting. You're not getting my pity," he sneered, nudging her trembling body with his expensive shoe. Lying there in the cold, the love she once had for him was surgically removed, replaced by a freezing void. She didn't understand how the man she sacrificed everything for could be so utterly heartless, but she knew exposing her deadly illness now would only give them ammunition to destroy her completely. She didn't cry, and she didn't beg. Instead, she swallowed her painkillers, secretly slipped a meticulously drafted divorce agreement into his unread corporate contracts to secure thirty million dollars, and prepared to burn his world to the ground./0/81257/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106195027&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Mother's Second Chance
I was a devoted mother, my world revolving around my precious baby girl, Lily. All I wanted was to keep her safe, to give her the best life possible, despite living under my in-laws' roof. But my mother-in-law, Karen, was a monster of penny-pinching cruelty. Her idiotic refusal to pay for proper medical care for Lily's jaundice, choosing a blazing hot lamp instead, was just the beginning. Then came her ultimate act of malice: swapping Lily's vital probiotic with her lethal pesticide, Bora-Kill. My baby, my sweet Lily, died a horrific, agonizing death. My husband, Mike, blamed me, calling it an accident, while his father, Frank, backed them both up. Consumed by a rage so pure it burned, I ended it all, taking them with me in a fiery gas explosion. The last thing I remembered was the sweet, cloying scent of gas, and a chilling satisfaction. Then I opened my eyes, not to death, but to the familiar, dingy floral wallpaper of Karen' s living room. Disbelief warred with a crushing wave of horror: I was alive, somehow, back in the very moment the nightmare began. And I heard it again – the piercing cry of my baby. This time, there would be no mistake. No more weeping for a broken life. I had the foresight, the memory of every single treacherous move they would make. My grief now fueled an unstoppable resolve: I would protect my Lily, and I would make every single one of them pay./0/81906/coverorgin.jpg?v=80ea9ffbe73f540470276e10723055ee&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Hand, My Song, My Freedom
The smell hit me first, thick, choking smoke, then Lila' s terrified scream ripped through the festival noise. Jax, my fiancé, was a blur beside me, his face tight with a desperate need to save her. He started towards The Swamp Shack, towards the hungry flames devouring the old wooden walls. My body wanted to lunge, to grab his arm, to scream, "No, Jax, don't!" But this time, I didn't. Because I remembered. I remembered the searing pain as burning wood crashed down, crushing my left hand, destroying my music, obliterating my future, in another life. I remembered Jax' s face, twisted not with concern for me, but with fury, after Lila was dead and my hand a useless, mangled thing. "It's your fault, Scarlett! You should have saved her, not me!" his words, a brand on my soul. His family' s money, a weapon that bled me dry, blackballing me from every gig, every chance I had. I remembered the suffocating silence of his plantation, the cold dismissal in his eyes every day of our sham marriage. Oh God, and the smokehouse. Locked in, the Louisiana summer sun beating down, the air so thick I couldn't breathe, couldn't scream, utterly alone. I gasped, the memory so real I could taste the ash and the terror. Now, in this life, Jax was yelling Lila' s name again, ready to play the hero, just like before. But this time the script was mine. This time, I stepped aside. I just watched him charge into the inferno, pure indifference a cold comfort. My hand, my precious hand, was safe. My music was still mine./0/85475/coverorgin.jpg?v=a317ec02131490b3727d787e996e1384&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Lies, Her New Life
For ten years, I sacrificed everything, working night shifts at a greasy diner to put my adopted son, Kevin, through college. It was all for his future, a life I never had. But on his graduation day, standing proudly on stage, he publicly denounced me, calling me a "disgrace" and claiming his real mother was a wealthy socialite. He then had me arrested for kidnapping, twisting my years of love into a story of obsession and greed. I watched him embrace her, leaving me to face accusations of being a "crazy woman" and "kidnapper" as security dragged me away. The trial was a sham, fueled by his lies and his birth mother' s accusations. I was convicted and sentenced to prison. The years there were hell, filled with beatings and torment from other inmates. I died alone on a cold concrete floor, my last breath a whisper of his name. Then, with a sharp jolt, my eyes flew open. I wasn' t in that filthy cell. I was back in my old, cramped apartment. And there he was, fifteen-year-old Kevin, his face a mask of practiced desperation. "Please, Mom? Please take me to the city? I can' t stay here anymore. I' ll do anything." It was the exact day I had sealed my fate in my first life. But this time, it would be different./0/82555/coverorgin.jpg?v=e77a4ad1dc46638d8f378e3d49bad017&imageMogr2/format/webp)
A Second Sight of Vengeance
Ten years. That' s how long I' d navigated a world painted by touch and sound. My hands, once destined for university papers, now kneaded muscles as a Licensed Massage Therapist. It wasn' t the life I planned after the mysterious incident that stole my sight, but it was a life. Until today. The afternoon rush ended, and the clinic settled. Then, loud, careless voices drifted from the waiting area. Kevin Miller, an old student from that last proctored exam, bragged. But it was the other voice, smooth and arrogant-Ethan Vance-that chilled me. He chimed in, "The real reason that TA went dark? The culprit was right there in the exam room with him. I' d know." My breath caught. They were talking about my blindness. A chilling certainty settled in my gut. Barely had I finished my last client when Ethan Vance ambushed me. A hand clamped over my mouth, a cold, sharp object pressed against my side. "You heard too much, Mr. Davis," Ethan' s voice whispered, colder, devoid of smoothness. A searing pain. Then, darkness, deeper than any blindness I had known. He murdered me. But then, a gasp tore from my throat. My eyes flew open. Light. Blinding, painful light. I could see. Fluorescent lights. Desks. Students. It was the exam hall. Ten years ago. I was back. My vision, crystal clear, a painful paradox after a decade of blindness and the fresh memory of my murder. Ethan Vance. He was here, in this room. The killer. The "culprit" who, in mere minutes, was about to destroy my life. He thought he' d silenced me, but now I was back. The clock on the wall showed 8:58 AM. Two minutes until my world went black in my first life. I had to stop it. This time, everything would be different./1/114027/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260427183337&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Betrayed Heiress: A Storm Awakened Within
I was the long-lost Donovan heiress, finally brought home after a childhood in foster care. My parents adored me, my husband cherished me, and the woman who tried to ruin my life, Kiera Reese, was locked away in a mental facility. I was safe. I was loved. On my birthday, I decided to surprise my husband, Ivan, at his office. But he wasn't there. I found him at a private art gallery across town. He was with Kiera. She wasn't in a facility. She was radiant, laughing as she stood beside my husband and their five-year-old son. I watched through the glass as Ivan kissed her, a familiar, loving gesture he’d used with me just that morning. I crept closer and overheard them. My birthday wish to go to the amusement park had been denied because he’d already promised the entire park to their son—whose birthday was the same day as mine. "She’s so grateful to have a family, she’d believe anything we tell her," Ivan said, his voice laced with a cruelty that stole my breath. "It's almost sad." My entire reality—my loving parents who funded this secret life, my devoted husband—was a five-year lie. I was just the fool they kept on stage. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Ivan, sent while he stood with his real family. "Just got out of the meeting. So exhausting. I miss you." The casual lie was the final blow. They thought I was a pathetic, grateful orphan they could control. They were about to find out just how wrong they were./0/82880/coverorgin.jpg?v=4a65caf10e122ad5019ae4b7f26205fc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Eighteen Again: And He's Out
The acrid smell of smoke choked Sarah Miller, her leg a searing agony as flames licked at her home. Just moments ago, her husband, Rick, had shoved her down the stairs, breaking her leg, then watched calmly as the faulty wiring he ignored ignited their house. Trapped and engulfed by the roaring fire, Sarah screamed his name, but no answer came. He was gone, abandoning her for worthless papers, leaving her for dead in the inferno stoked by his own negligence and rage. Twenty years of selfless support, of being his scapegoat and bankroll, all culminated in this cruel, final act. The betrayal burned hotter than the flames. How could the man she sacrificed everything for simply leave her to die, blaming her even in her last moments? The injustice, the monumental waste of her life, consumed her. Her bitter last thought: "I wish I' d never met Rick Peterson. I wish I could do it all over again, without him." Then, darkness. She awoke, not in a choking inferno, but in her childhood bedroom, sunlight streaming through familiar windows. It was 1995. She was eighteen again, at the cusp of meeting the man who would ruin her. Her wish had come true. This time, things would be different. This time, Rick Peterson would feel the full force of a woman who finally chose herself./1/100725/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106221029&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Helene Richard: The Truth Unveiled
For ten years, I was the perfect wife to Wall Street heir Garrett Wise. I was the polished GNN anchor who cleaned up his scandals, all while his family paid for my mother's mounting medical bills. But when a photo of him draped over my on-air rival went viral, I finally had enough and served him divorce papers. His revenge was brutal. He had me fired, framed for taking bribes, and publicly humiliated on my own network. Even my own son was turned against me, calling me a "bad mommy" after his grandmother and Garrett's mistress poisoned his mind. Trapped in our penthouse, Garrett offered me a disgusting deal to stay as his quiet, compensated wife while his mistress, Daphne, faked a pregnancy to secure her place. That's when I discovered the cruelest irony: I was actually pregnant with his child. As he lunged at me, his hands reaching for my throat, I grabbed the nearest weapon. "You did this," I whispered, looking him dead in the eye. Then I plunged the silver letter opener into my own stomach, sacrificing our unborn child to ensure he would carry the guilt, and I would finally be free./1/114352/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260528104604&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Flash Marriage To The Ruthless Surgeon
My abusive ex was threatening a lawsuit that would destroy my father's career and wipe out my PhD. I was completely out of options. That night, Graham, the boy from next door I hadn't seen in a decade, showed up at my apartment in the middle of a hurricane. Now a wealthy orthopedic surgeon, he offered a transactional marriage: he needed a local wife to keep his family away while he cared for his sick mother, and in return, he would make my ex disappear. I thought it was a simple deal. But the morning after we signed the marriage license, Graham didn't just scare my ex off—he ruthlessly dismantled him. Then, Graham turned to me. His eyes were dead as he pulled out his phone, showing me a high-resolution photo of the night I illegally sold lab samples to pay off my ex's initial blackmail. He had hired a private investigator to stalk me. If that photo leaked to the FDA, I wouldn't just lose my degree; I'd go to prison. "I needed a guarantee," he said flatly. I was shaking with rage and terror. This wasn't a rescue. It was a hostage situation. Why did he hunt me down? Why use my darkest secret to trap me in this twisted marriage? I couldn't live like this. I demanded an immediate divorce. But at the courthouse, the clerk dropped a bomb on us: state law required a mandatory thirty-day waiting period. Thirty days trapped with a ruthless, manipulative stranger. I had to find a way to break his leverage before the month was up./0/54329/coverorgin.jpg?v=1a174fdd78a63b09a916afaac92fe0ad&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Let's Divorced
3 years old, Naya was married to her cousin, Calista. The husband — Yudha promised to be fair. But it turns out that Yuda spends more time with Calista. His second wife. Naya survived in the hope that her two daughters would not lose their father. Treatment for her second daughter's leukemia also requires a lot of money, so Naya absolutely survives for the sake of her children even though she is hurt. But unexpectedly, her first daughter, Yesi, asked for a divorce. If divorced... What about the treatment of her second daughter, who needed 2-3 dialysis treatments in one week. Naya is afraid that after the divorce the man will lose his responsibility because most men, once divorced from their ex-wives, forget about the children from their previous marriage. Will Naya agree to her daughter's proposal?/1/103321/coverorgin.jpg?v=8484a5c78a1478815792cc8ad3a41bd0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Asylum to Empire: Her Sweet Revenge
The scent of lilies still clung to my clothes, a cloying reminder of my daughter Shannon' s tiny casket, yet it was the stench of betrayal that truly choked me. At her graveside, I saw Harlow Faulkner, my closest friend, standing too close to my husband Antonio, her hand possessively on his arm. Then, Antonio hissed, "Francesca, darling, not now," his smile pasted on for onlookers, but his eyes were ice. He' d brought me breakfast in bed, protected me from critics, built an empire with me. Now, he was a stranger. My accusation ripped from me: "You left her alone, Harlow! You left my baby alone, and she died!" Harlow whimpered, "It was SIDS, a tragic accident." Antonio roared, "You're making a scene!" He then revealed the nanny cam was "broken," confirming my darkest fear: he knew. He was part of it. When Antonio' s hand instinctively went to Harlow' s stomach, whispering, "Is the baby alright?" my world shattered. He had a new family. He was erasing Shannon, erasing me. They sent me to an institution, electroshocked and drugged me, then forced me to sign divorce papers. But as I lay broken, a cold, diamond-sharp resolve hardened within me. He thought he could erase me. I would remember everything./1/102348/coverorgin.jpg?v=5da337227e447b39505f5557eae221b6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Billions Can't Buy Her Forgiveness Now
The scissors made a sickening crunch as I severed the long hair Marcus worshipped. For three years, I had been his "silk anchor," the hidden woman who grounded him while he conquered New York. But as the dark strands hit the porcelain sink, my phone lit up with a news alert that shattered my world. *Thorne Enterprises CEO Marcus Thorne and Isabella Vance announce engagement.* While I was waiting for his call, he was sliding a massive diamond onto another woman's finger. At the gala that night, I was forced to watch them. Izzy leaned across the table, her voice sweet enough to rot teeth. "You look exhausted, Olivia. Especially now that you're... alone." Marcus didn't defend me. He didn't even look at me. He just swirled his scotch and told me to focus on the merger data, dismissing me like an inconvenient employee rather than the woman he swore to protect. He thought I was a pragmatist. He thought I would stay in the shadows, accepting the scraps of his affection while he married for power. He was wrong. I went home and packed my life into a single suitcase. I took the river rock he had carved for me—the one he called his anchor—and left it on the empty easel with a note in black marker. *You were my rock. Now you’re just a stone.* By the time he realized his mistake and came pounding on my door, I was already gone, flying toward a new life in Montana where he couldn't reach me./1/121815/coverorgin.jpg?v=4a6be4047c5db0d9e9c0162af8d03d58&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn And Crowned: She's Now Her Own Queen
In her last life, Chelsey had been betrayed by the two people she trusted the most: her fiancé and her closest friend. Together, they conspired to destroy her. In the end, she died a humiliating death, stripped of all dignity. But fate gave her a second chance. When she opened her eyes again, she found herself reborn as another woman. Yet, the first person she saw in this new life was someone determined to end her-a man who happened to be her husband. Eventually, she got divorced and walked away without looking back. She became the laughingstock of the entire city, branded as nothing more than a disgrace. But little did they know, she was about to make a stunning comeback as a dazzling CEO. She crushed the cheaters, achieving unimaginable success in her career. Even her romantic life seemed blessed with extraordinary fortune. Even her ex-husband pursued her desperately. "Come back to me," he demanded. But she met his gaze with indifference. The Chelsey he'd known no longer existed. And she had no intention of ever going back to this toxic man./1/115975/coverorgin.jpg?v=634f1bf6aab451362af38cb2007beae9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Dying In Silence: The Unwanted Heiress
Kaia was diagnosed with late-stage bone cancer, with only three months left to live. She wanted to give up her family's entire trust fund just to have Gerrit play the role of a loving husband for her final days. But before she could show him the biopsy report, he looked at her with absolute disgust, declaring that their three-year marriage made him physically sick. He only loved Seraphina. To force Kaia out, Seraphina constantly framed her. When Seraphina faked a fall, Gerrit pushed Kaia so hard she tore her waist open on a glass table. When Kaia writhed in agonizing pain from her failing organs, he stood over her coldly, mocking her pathetic acting. Even when Gerrit finally discovered Seraphina had hired a fake stalker and maliciously burned Kaia's skin with boiling tea, he still chose to protect his mistress. "I already signed the divorce papers with Kaia. We are going to bury this story temporarily to protect the company." Hearing those words from behind the wall, the last shred of hope in Kaia's chest completely died. She had endured his cruelty for three years, only to realize his bias for another woman defied all logic and morality. Lying in the bathtub, coughing up mouthfuls of dark blood that turned the water crimson, Kaia picked up her phone and dialed her lawyer. "Julian, initiate the final plan." Since Gerrit despised her existence, she would make sure he never found her body./0/81259/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106195030&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Divorce He Filed Himself
My husband Mark called, his voice a whip crack in my ear, furious that I was in Napa enjoying wine instead of fretting over his mistress, Jessie. For seven years, his world revolved around Jessie' s endless dramas, her "fragile" state always prioritized over my needs, my feelings, or even the memory of my late father. I quietly drafted dissolution papers, shifting the names from generic "Jane Doe" to "Sarah Miller vs. Mark Thompson," a silent vow of freedom. He dismissed my pain, gaslighted my reality, and funneled our marital assets into Jessie' s lavish lifestyle, casually buying her a $15,000 designer bag when I couldn't get a few hundred for a work suit. The ultimate betrayal came during a scuba trip off La Jolla: he shoved me, his wife, directly into a shark's path to save Jessie, then abandoned me, celebrating with her on the boat while I gasped for air, bleeding. How could anyone be so utterly blind, so consumed by another's manufactured crisis, that they would sacrifice their own spouse and then, beaming, personally file divorce papers thinking they were for their mistress? He proudly signed away his future, thinking he was liberating Jessie, not realizing he was cementing my escape and sealing his own downfall. The game was on, and watching his oblivious delight, I knew I would win./1/119544/coverorgin.jpg?v=7c6309e3a36b9d655b221cf8c56d3573&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Dear Ex, I Married Your Uncle
On her wedding day, Eleanor witnessed her fiancé's affair with her best friend in front of every guest. Then, without hesitation, she slipped the wedding ring onto Adrian's finger-her groom's scarred and disabled uncle. "You don't mind that I can't walk?" "No." What began as a contractual marriage quickly became complicated. While Eleanor battled a manipulative stepmother, a shameless ex, and a treacherous former friend, she uncovered secrets linking her mother's death to Adrian's family. Worse, the man who vowed to protect her was hiding secrets of his own. As her ex begged regret, Adrian offered one cold reminder. "She's your aunt now."/0/78339/coverorgin.jpg?v=0cb452130cd76ed5207c4a95454f08d1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Taming The War God: A Shot To Heart Sparked Our Forever Love
Scarlett's first run-in with Shane ended with his bullet ripping through her chest. He'd crashed her mission and never blinked. Whispers claimed Shane's fiancée was a pampered porcelain doll. Even her adoring brothers warned, "Our little Scarlett is delicate. Don't bully her." On the field, Shane was ice-cold, ranking people only as winners or losers. Yet that iron officer learned to bend, curling an arm around Scarlett's waist and asking, "Come home with me, honey?" Outsiders said she lucked out. That Shane was way out of her league. He just scoffed. Destiny wove together the paths of two equals. At nights, he knelt and murmured, "I love you."/0/81908/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106195941&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Erased: My Music, My Legacy
I watched the screen, my knuckles white, as two viral videos ripped my world apart. One was old, grainy, showing a younger me, working two jobs, sharing cheap pizza with Lucas, eyes full of hope for his music, our future. "We're gonna make it, Lucas," I'd whispered, believing every word. The second video was slick, from last night's awards, Lucas on stage, award in hand. "This is for you, Sophie," he declared, beaming at the pop starlet who sat in the front row. "With you, Sophie, I finally see clearly, no longer mistaking shadows for the sun." Shadows for the sun. That was me. The internet comments were a dumpster fire: "Lucas finally upgraded!", "Good riddance to that clingy ex!" My chest tightened. This wasn't just a breakup; it was a public execution of my past, my love, my countless hours pouring the legacy of Mateo-my deceased love, our songs-into Lucas. He was the man I' d spent years building up, only for him to erase me. A fraudulent document surfaced, a backdated "songwriting assignment" giving Sophie credit for our song. Even my own Aunt Maria went on record, calling me an opportunist. The world saw me as a villain, a user, a bitter ex. The truth? No one knew about Mateo, his raw talent, his tragic death, or how I' d desperately tried to keep his dream alive through his twin brother. No one knew the songs were always his and mine. I was drowning in an avalanche of lies. Then, an unexpected email landed in my inbox: "Ava, I saw the news. It' s BS. All of it." It was from Jay. He had Mateo's footage. And he was making a documentary. My whole story was about to change./1/103322/coverorgin.jpg?v=b27acb734fed5aa2348e62307906dddf&imageMogr2/format/webp)
