Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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The Queen Bee's Fall
The drone of Mr. Davies' voice, the familiar hum of my junior year English class, felt strangely distant. Once, my life was a clear path: top student, Yale-bound, my future set. My mother, Dr. Emily Miller, a respected psychometrician for the College Board, a source of pride. But that perfect future shattered. Tiff Reynolds, the school' s queen bee, twisted my academic talents and my mother' s connection into a weapon. Jealous of my success, she spread a monstrous lie: I was the mastermind of a cheating ring, funneling actual test questions from my mom. The investigation hit like a Category 5 hurricane. My Yale admission, rescinded. My mother, suspended, her brilliant career in ruins. And Dad… Dad, hounded by shame and stress, passed away. The weight of their blame, the utter desolation, crushed me. I tried to end it all, escaping into a cold abyss. Why? Why did Tiff' s greed and lies destroy everything I loved, everything I was? The injustice was a searing, raw wound. There was no relief, no way out of that suffocating despair, only the consuming question of how my innocent actions could lead to such a catastrophic fall. Then, the world snapped back. Heart hammering, I was sitting in class again, the date September 14th. It was real. A second chance. My hands clenched under the desk. This time, I wouldn' t just survive. This time, they would pay./0/88750/coverorgin.jpg?v=20250806093834&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?/0/85830/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106210844&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Unmasking Their Lies
The sharp, chemical tang of turpentine used to smell like hope, but not today. I woke up eighteen again, just weeks before my art school scholarship deadline-the one my mother "helped" me meet by giving me paint stripper instead of turpentine, ruining my masterpiece. My family, ever the loving wolves, had blamed me, calling me ungrateful and a failure, twisting the knife until I believed I deserved the heartbreak and a lifetime of mediocrity in a cold, lonely apartment. I spent years internalizing their gaslighting, wondering why I was never good enough, always the villain in their self-serving narrative. But this time, as my mother chirped, "Good morning, sweetie. I brought you something to help you finish up," I knew. This was my second chance, and they had no idea who they were dealing with./1/108217/coverorgin.jpg?v=4f15e3e125e328929caa5a41ebb4f69d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Quiet Wife Is An Elite Genius
I was the ultimate trophy wife, a polished ornament in Francisco Zimmerman’s billionaire empire. For three years, I perfected the "Zimmerman Wife Smile," playing the role of the devoted partner while smoothing the Egyptian cotton of his shirts. The illusion shattered when I stood outside his study and heard him laughing with his mistress, Annalise. "She’s just a vase that only knows how to smile," Francisco’s voice was cold, devoid of any warmth. "As long as I pay the maintenance fees on time, she stays obedient." I walked out that night with nothing but a canvas bag and the clothes on my back. But Francisco wasn't finished with his "asset." He froze my bank accounts and used his massive influence to blacklist me from every interior design firm in New York. He tracked my phone, watching me struggle from the shadows, waiting for me to starve so I would crawl back to his mansion. He even showed up at the dive bar where I was playing piano for rent money, mocking my desperation. "You have technique, but no heart," he sneered, tossing a silver coin into my tip jar as if I were a beggar. "You're hollow, Iris. Just like your pride." I couldn't believe this was the same man whose life I had saved during a bloody night in Macau. To him, I wasn't a wife; I was a stock price that needed stabilizing. The more I fought for my independence, the tighter he pulled the net, determined to break my spirit until I had no choice but to return to his gilded cage. Then, the morning sickness hit. I realized I wasn't just carrying my own life anymore—I was carrying his heir. If Francisco found out, he would never let us go; he would turn my child into another "performance bonus" for his brand. Looking at the sonogram, I knew a divorce would never be enough to escape a man who thought he owned the world. "I'm not going back," I whispered, staring at his yacht moored in the harbor. "To save this baby, Iris Potter has to die."/1/121195/coverorgin.jpg?v=f3a7c5f01936dbdba2161467d2339c4b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn And Married To The Ruthless Billionaire
For six years, Elena Craig dedicated her life and her brilliant mind to her fiancé, Jory Black. She built his tech empire from the ground up, believing they were heading toward a perfect marriage. But her reward wasn't a wedding ring. It was a staged car crash and the suffocating, damp earth of a fresh grave. As her bones splintered under the crushing weight of the dirt, she heard the people she loved most standing over her casket. "Don't worry, sis. I'll take good care of Jory for you. And all your money." Her stepsister Carissa laughed like poison, while Jory coldly dismissed Elena as just a boring stepping stone. They had been sleeping together in her bed, plotting to bankrupt her mother's company, before burying her alive to silence her forever. The agonizing pain of suffocation was nothing compared to the raw, gaping wound of their betrayal. How could she have been so blind to the monsters living right beside her? Why did her unwavering loyalty only earn her a brutal, agonizing death? Then, her eyes flew open. She wasn't dead. She was sitting on Jory's plush sofa, reborn exactly two days before her family's ruin. Hearing her stepsister's suppressed moans coming from the master bedroom, Elena didn't shed a single tear. She calmly walked in, dropped her three-carat diamond ring into Jory's whiskey, and slapped him viciously across the face. "Our engagement is over." Leaving the cheating scum behind, she walked straight out into the midnight air to propose to the most ruthless billionaire in New York./0/84208/coverorgin.jpg?v=2094be347be027d088e9d5626802c8be&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Lucky Day, Her Fatal Flaw
My name is Gabrielle Johns, a rising architect with everything going for me – a dream career, a great apartment, and loving parents who sacrificed for my future. I was heading to my family's lake house for a long weekend, my best friend, Jen, complaining beside me as usual. That' s when the vintage hearse hit my car, a minor fender-bender that Jen immediately declared my "lucky day." Bizarrely, her words seemed to come true: my career soared, and my parents had the full down payment for my new condo. Jen, consumed by envy, became convinced the hearse was a source of "luck," deliberately getting herself hit by it. But her "luck" turned into ruin. The hearse was priceless, and its owners sued her for damages that would devastate her. Spiraling into a paranoid rage, she blamed me for "stealing" her luck. One night, as I left my new condo, her madness culminated in the ultimate betrayal. Jen, my childhood best friend, plunged a knife into my chest, hissing, "This was supposed to be mine." Darkness consumed me, my last thought of my parents and their future, stolen. How could someone I loved become such a monster? Why did she believe my hard work was just "luck" she was entitled to? Why did this happen? Then, I gasped awake. I was in my bed, in my old apartment, on the very morning the nightmare began. My phone buzzed: a text from Jen, "I've got a feeling this is going to be a very, very lucky weekend. ;)" She was back. And this time, I wouldn't be kind./0/84857/coverorgin.jpg?v=aec2caa983f0b26e3135df01c8f8038e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Forever With My Children
The last thing I remembered was the cold, damp earth on my knees, kneeling before Liam' s grave as my wife, Olivia, stood over me, her beautiful face a mask of pure hatred. "This is where you belong, Ethan. At his feet." I had believed her promise of a child, an heir, would free me from her cruel games and secure our future. Instead, her obsession with her dead childhood sweetheart, Liam, led her to deliberately delay the C-section for our twins, costing them their lives. Then, she had her guards beat me to death. But I woke up. In a sterile white hospital room, the rhythmic beeping of a machine in my ears, I saw Olivia, seemingly unchanged, on the phone, ordering the very delay that doomed our children in my first life. My heart, which I thought was empty, throbbed with a dull ache as she publicly declared another child - Liam' s son, Lucas - her sole heir, and callously ordered my own babies to be "gotten rid of." Paternal love surged, and I rushed to protect them, only to be struck down. I awoke again, beaten and framed for attacking them, mocked by Olivia and the fake Liam. Then came the chilling realization: Olivia, too, remembered. She knew about my "second chance" and taunted me with it. She used my dying father, his life hanging by a thread in the same hospital, as leverage. When I reluctantly agreed to her demands, she killed him right in front of me, shattering my world. Imprisoned in the dark basement of our old mansion with the bodies of my dead children, utter despair consumed me. How could this be happening again? Why did she hate me so much, across two lifetimes? Why couldn't I escape this nightmare? But Olivia's twisted victory was short-lived. The very betrayal she orchestrated began to unravel, revealing Liam' s true identity as a con man and Lucas as a stranger' s child. The architect of my torment had built her empire on a foundation of lies, and now, it was all about to come crashing down./1/117302/coverorgin.jpg?v=10e28b171ab3e6dc7c1eca9a542d2bc2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Billionaire's Runaway Genius Heiress Fiancee
For years, Annabell was treated like the dirt beneath the Richmond family's shoes, forced to endure their arrogance while the favored daughter, Carisa, was handed the world. When Annabell slammed a financial report on the desk, exposing that the family's offshore accounts were completely empty, they didn't thank her. Instead, Julian tried to strike her, and Carisa played the weeping victim. Ethan Richmond pointed a trembling finger at the door, stripping Annabell of every cent and throwing her out into the freezing rain. "You are done in this house! You get nothing!" They sneered, expecting her to crawl back and beg on the streets, mocked by the entire elite circle as worthless trash. They thought she was just a helpless orphan with nothing left to her name. They had no idea that the quiet girl they just discarded was the financial genius who secretly controlled all their leverage trading codes. Annabell didn't shed a single tear. She calmly signed the inheritance renunciation, walked out, and froze 80% of the Richmonds' assets with a single keystroke. And just as her former family prepared to watch her starve, a convoy of armored Range Rovers pulled up. The patriarch of the ultra-wealthy Dixon family stepped out with tears in his eyes, handing over deeds to Manhattan skyscrapers. The true billionaire heiress had finally returned, and New York's hierarchy was about to be violently rewritten./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./0/83235/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106202214&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Disinherited, Not Defeated
Thanksgiving. My favorite, and most dreaded, day of the year. For decades, I, Sarah, a CNA in my early forties, had been the invisible backbone of my family, paying for meals, offering endless support, always putting them first. My small home, filled with the aroma of the turkey I' d basted since dawn, should have been a sanctuary. But then Brenda, my manipulative mother, gathered us for dinner, her smile unnaturally sweet. Instead of giving thanks, she announced her estate plans. My brothers – John and Michael, perpetual freeloaders – each received significant inheritances, while my hands lay empty. Then, with a chillingly fake smile, she turned to me: "Sarah, dear, since you' re so good at caring for people, I' ve decided I' ll be moving in with you after the New Year." Not a thank you for decades of sacrifice, just a shameless demand. All the quiet resentment, the financial strain, the forgotten birthdays, the endless emotional and monetary drain – it all crashed down. "Happy Thanksgiving!" I screamed, pulling the tablecloth, sending the entire feast flying. My mother shrieked, then slapped me. My brothers, John and Michael, attacked, twisting my arm, shoving my head against the wall. How could a family be so cruel, so entitled? Bruised and furious, I knew one thing: this was the end of being their martyr, and the beginning of fighting for myself, my husband David, and my son Ben./1/122169/coverorgin.jpg?v=8dcd9568296e31df05b0ba5fac948b8c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Escaping My Possessive Billionaire Ex-Husband
I went to a luxury hotel for a blind date, hoping to finally move on from my past. But I opened the wrong door and stumbled right into my billionaire ex-husband, Damarcus. He was sitting in the dim suite with a beautiful socialite, watching me freeze like a beggar in my cheap dress. I fled, but he cornered me in the hallway restroom. He coldly mocked my family's crushing debt and implied I was selling myself to my date. I thought the humiliation was over, so I threw myself into my demanding corporate job to pay for my sick mother's care. The next night, my boss, Felix, took me to a high-stakes dinner with a major client. But Damarcus showed up there too. He walked right into our private room, dominating the space, and deliberately sabotaged me. He raised his glass and loudly toasted to my resilience, twisting the truth to make my boss think we were having a secret, scandalous affair. He wanted to destroy my reputation and strip away the only lifeline I had left. He had already ruined my life once, leaving me with nothing. Why was he hunting me down just to play these cruel games? I sat in my dark apartment, waiting in terror for Felix to fire me. Instead, my phone rang. "I believe you. I know what kind of man he is." Hearing my boss say those words, my fear finally burned into rage. This time, I wasn't going to run./0/90373/coverorgin.jpg?v=3ad4104d1f894801b43d65df33ee8f90&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Love Crumbled, But Her Brilliance Shone
Years ago, Cathy's husband threw himself into danger to save her. Then fate cut the cord-after the accident, he remembered everyone but the woman he'd once died for. On their third anniversary, he betrayed her, and that night she signed the divorce. Freed, she dusted off her hidden brilliance: miracle healer, racing legend, elite hacker, visionary designer. When his memories roared back, regret did, too. He stormed her wedding, pleading, "Cathy, please, one more chance!" But a certain trillionaire held her close and huffed, "Honey, someone's asking for trouble."/1/108218/coverorgin.jpg?v=f8d28505371d35b1db7fdc8d2ab59f29&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn Heiress: The CEO's Revenge Bride
I lay in the hospital bed, every breath feeling like I was inhaling wet concrete. My husband, Trent, stood by the window, more interested in his reflection in the glass than his dying wife. My sister, Cristi, sat nearby, complaining about how the rain would ruin her expensive shoes on the way to the car. Trent walked to my bedside and brushed a finger against my oxygen tube. "The liver failure is aggressive," he whispered. "But we expected that, didn't we? After all those 'vitamins' you've been taking." I tried to scream, but my vocal cords were paralyzed. Cristi just giggled, telling me not to struggle because they needed my trust fund voting power by midnight. They held up a Do Not Resuscitate order and told me my hand had "signed" it with a little help. "You were a depreciating asset, Cleora," Trent said, his lips cold against my forehead. "Now, you're finally liquidated." As the darkness swallowed me, I saw flashes of my life—my mother’s suspicious car crash, my stolen sketchbooks, and the bitter almond taste in my morning juice. I died in a state of pure, helpless rage, realizing I had been murdered by the only people I ever loved. How could they be so heartless? How could I have been so blind to the monsters living in my own home? Then came the sensation of falling. I sat up with a gasp, my lungs burning with fresh, salty air. The hospital was gone. I was in a luxury stateroom on our family’s charity cruise, three years before my death. I was alive, healthy, and back at the beginning. When a blood-stained billionaire named Clemente Pennington walked out of the suite's bathroom, I didn't run. I looked him in the eye and realized that this time, I wouldn't be the one liquidated. I was going to make them pay for every drop of poison they ever fed me./1/121196/coverorgin.jpg?v=5f1b8ad106bf16c7555c96110bf5bd7e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Raising The Ruthless Billionaire's Stolen Heir
My husband forced me to sign divorce papers because of my so-called infertility. His mother wanted a grandson, so I left New York with nothing, eventually adopting an abandoned baby boy named Leo. We lived peacefully for four years, until a fleet of black SUVs surrounded my tiny apartment. A ruthless billionaire named Damien Montgomery threw a DNA test at my feet, claiming Leo was his stolen heir. He offered me two million dollars to hand over my son. "I am not negotiating with you. Get in the car." His bodyguards forced us into his Rolls-Royce, trapping me in his fortress of an estate. The sudden trauma terrified Leo so much that he developed acute pneumonia and was rushed to the hospital. But while fetching medicine in the hospital corridor, I bumped into my ex-husband and his new wife. My ex was holding a little boy who looked to be at least three and a half years old. My blood ran cold as I stared at the child. We divorced exactly four years ago because the doctor claimed I was barren. The math simply didn't add up. My "infertility" was a calculated lie to cover up his affair and kick me out. Caught between a tyrannical billionaire trying to steal my adopted son and the sickening truth of my past marriage, I wiped my tears. I was done being manipulated; it was time to make them all pay./1/118276/coverorgin.jpg?v=ca3824f91444343ddbd28905b4499fe4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Discarded By Him, Claimed By The Enemy
I fought for the NorthCom mercenary team for five years, bleeding for them and treating them like family. But during a brutal blizzard extraction, after I was gutted and exposed to a deadly neurotoxin to protect our flank, my commander, Jeffrey, called for a sudden vote. He calmly asked the team who was in favor of leaving me behind. One by one, the men and women whose lives I had just saved raised their hands. Jeffrey looked down at me, his eyes completely devoid of emotion, and casually kicked my desperate hand away from his boot. "This is for the good of the company, Etta. It's a calculated loss." They stripped me of my weapons, tossed a plastic-wrapped first-aid kit into the snow, and flew away in their warm helicopter, leaving me to freeze to death. As the ice seeped into my bones, the agonizing truth hit me. I was nothing but a disposable tool. A minor, pathetic footnote in Jeffrey's glorious corporate rise. I had sacrificed my life for people who viewed me as garbage the second I became a liability. But the person who stepped out of the howling storm to save me wasn't a friend. It was Kraig Crawford, the ruthless CEO of the rival syndicate and Jeffrey's deadliest enemy. He pumped his own blood into my dying veins, his eyes burning with a dark, terrifying obsession. "You're my war prize now." I didn't know what this monster truly wanted with me, but as my heart started beating again, I made a promise to myself. I was done being a calculated loss./1/117303/coverorgin.jpg?v=92ec3d5973c40cb0e510f76568585261&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The True Heiress Makes Her Spectacular Comeback
I was adopted by the wealthy Sterling family ten years ago, believing I finally had a real home. But on the night of my sister Serena's Ivy League celebration, I realized my "loving" adoptive mother was the one who pushed me into the freezing Hudson River. They didn't just steal my perfect SAT score to secure Serena's future. They had drained my biological parents' trust fund to cover their failed business ventures. When I crashed the ballroom dripping wet, exposing a brutal boat propeller scar on my shoulder, my adoptive father publicly called me a delusional, ungrateful orphan. My adoptive brother even tried to violently attack me in my own bedroom. They wanted me dead just to protect their stolen wealth and fake reputation. I gave them ten years of my life, yet they traded my survival in the freezing currents without a second thought. I couldn't understand how a family could be so monstrous, smiling for the cameras while leaving me to drown in the dark. "The Sterlings adopted you for a charity board seat, but you are the direct descendant of the Astor family." Hearing the truth about my real bloodline from the man who rescued me, my heart turned to ice. Now, stepping into the VIP hospital room with my silver needles to save my dying biological grandfather from a corrupt doctor, I made a vow. I am dropping the Sterling name forever, and I will take everything from them./0/50791/coverorgin.jpg?v=806ede9b62453355a089a0e9a88d56d9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Tempting Fate With The Tycoon
One drunken night, Miranda boldly approached Leland, only to be met with his cold and unyielding gaze. He pinned her to the wall, cautioning, "Don't provoke me. I doubt you can handle it." Soon after, her engagement fell apart, leaving her destitute. With no other options, Miranda sought refuge with Leland. Over time, she took on the role of a stepmother, caring for his child. She came to understand that Leland's decision to marry her wasn't just about her being obedient. It was also because she resembled someone he cherished. Confronted with Miranda's request for a divorce, Leland hugged her. "Please reconsider." Miranda just smiled. "Mr. Adams, are you ensnared?"/1/102054/coverorgin.jpg?v=828cbf573e24a89aa516682206765801&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Twin's Last Martian Wish
For five years, I played the part of the devoted wife to a billionaire who despised me. I endured his coldness, his public affair with his mistress Gisele, and every humiliation he threw my way. All of it was a performance, a long game for one single purpose. On our fifth anniversary, the day my contract ended, I finally collected my deceased fiancé Julian's ashes. His last wish was to have them scattered on Mars, a dream only accessible to me through my marriage to his identical twin brother, Clayton. With my mission accomplished, I asked for a divorce. But Clayton, the man who had ignored me for half a decade, refused. He laughed, then kissed me with a brutal possessiveness I' d never felt before. "You're not going anywhere," he whispered. "You're mine now." He dragged me from our sterile penthouse, his eyes burning with a terrifying obsession. He offered me a real marriage, a child, a future I never wanted. He couldn't understand that my heart had always belonged to his dead brother. When I finally revealed the truth-that our entire marriage was just a means to fulfill Julian's last wish-he didn't let me go. He broke. He abandoned his mistress, begged, and even kidnapped me, convinced he could force me to love him. "You'll learn to be mine," he snarled, his sanity unraveling as he held me captive on his private jet. "We'll have children. They'll bind us together. You'll never leave me then." But he was wrong. This wasn't the story of a woman won over by a monster's late-blooming love. This was the story of my escape, and I was finally ready to be free./0/86156/coverorgin.jpg?v=573f8905fca8c60444d48cff9a7c95dd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
A Love Betrayed, A Future Reclaimed
The phone buzzed, pulling me from a complex guitar passage. It was Jake' s assistant, frantic: "There' s been an accident. Jake' s at St. Mary' s. He needs a transfusion. You' re the only match." My world tilted. I raced to the hospital, heart hammering, and gave my blood, my love, to save him. An hour later, Jake' s assistant reappeared, looking annoyed. "It was just a prank," he said, not meeting my eyes. "Jake' s fine. He' s at a party." My blood ran cold. I found my discarded blood, half-full, tossed like garbage, next to a service exit. Then I heard laughter. Jake, perfectly fine, emerged with Chloe, his childhood friend. "Did you see her face?" Chloe cackled. "So pathetic." Jake chuckled, a sound that now turned my stomach. "She' d do anything for me, Chloe. It' s been three years. I told you I' d make her pay for what she did. For stealing that scholarship." The scholarship. The red wine on my performance dress. The missed audition. All cruel jokes. He never loved me. I was a tool, a target in his meticulously planned revenge. The pain was a physical weight, but beneath it, a cold resolve hardened. I clutched my phone, a single tear tracing a path down my cheek. I called my brother. "Liam," I said, my voice dead. "That offer… to study with the Maestro in Europe. Is it still open?" "Of course, Liv. Why?" "I' m taking it. I' m leaving. Tonight." He thought he had destroyed me. He was wrong. I was just getting started./1/102703/coverorgin.jpg?v=85f09fe58fee7f5abcbf8661e292c9fa&imageMogr2/format/webp)
