Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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Sold To The Shadow King: Reborn Revenge
My husband, Hansford Burris, told me tonight was the most important night of his campaign. He handed me a glass of champagne, his face a perfect mask of concern, telling me to drink up so I could relax before meeting the "Shadow King" of D.C. who could secure his political future. I didn't know the golden liquid was laced with a high-dose sedative and hallucinogens. He hadn't brought me to this luxury hotel to celebrate; he had brought me here to be sold, trading my body to a stranger in exchange for a seat of power. In my past life, I trusted him. I drank the poison, woke up shattered, and spent the next five years being tormented by his abusive mother and publicly replaced by his mistress. I was eventually cornered and murdered by the very man I had supported with my family’s fortune, my death staged as a tragic accident to gain him sympathy votes. To him, I wasn't a wife or a partner. I was just an "asset" with a shelf life, a merchant’s good to be traded away. As the life left my body, I couldn't understand how the man who promised to love me forever could watch me choke without a hint of regret. Opening my eyes again, I was back in the St. Regis Hotel on October 14th, exactly five years ago. Hansford was standing there in his polished Armani suit, extending the same glass of drugged champagne toward me. "Gina, darling? Are you alright? Here. Drink this. It will help you relax." Looking at his handsome, lying face, I felt a cold clarity wash over me. I wasn't the naive rabbit he remembered. I took the glass, but I didn't swallow a single drop. This time, I was going to burn his world to the ground./1/102710/coverorgin.jpg?v=b5064182a96aa04c59155021525b9e17&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Weaponized Love: The Irresistible Devil Claimed Me
At eight, Roselyn was taken from the orphanage into the Warren family. That first day she noticed Kevin-gentle-and her crush stuck. For over a decade she played the grateful daughter, until his engagement made her a scapegoat. Framed and humiliated, she fled abroad. Her worst mistake came in the loneliness: Wesley, Kevin's enemy; their families had feuded for years. In stolen trysts, he pinned her to a bathroom wall and blew cigarette smoke into her mouth. She choked, wordless. In the haze, he bit her neck; a soft moan slipped out. Wesley murmured, "Be louder. Let Kevin hear who you're with."/1/114130/coverorgin.jpg?v=21d5a3d83c8d29db210e5fb6a44eb8e9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
A Stolen Future, A Secret Bride
My husband, Bennett, and I were New York's golden couple. But our perfect marriage was a lie, childless because of a rare genetic condition he claimed would kill any woman who carried his baby. When his dying father demanded an heir, Bennett proposed a solution: a surrogate. The woman he chose, Aria, was a younger, more vibrant version of me. Suddenly, Bennett was always busy, supporting her through "difficult IVF cycles." He missed my birthday. He forgot our anniversary. I tried to believe him, until I overheard him at a party. He confessed to his friends that his love for me was a "deep connection," but with Aria, it was "fire" and "exhilarating." He was planning a secret wedding with her in Lake Como, at the same villa he'd promised me for our anniversary. He was giving her a wedding, a family, a life—all the things he denied me, using a lie about a deadly genetic condition as his excuse. The betrayal was so complete it felt like a physical shock. When he came home that night, lying about a business trip, I smiled and played the part of the loving wife. He didn't know I'd heard everything. He didn't know that while he was planning his new life, I was already planning my escape. And he certainly didn't know I had just made a call to a service that specialized in one thing: making people disappear./0/79714/coverorgin.jpg?v=794914fa070ae1f5e1fede4d06a714a1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Betrayed Chef's Sweet Revenge
Amy, a gifted chef, poured two days into a perfect Thanksgiving feast, hoping to heal her fractured family. But her husband, Rich, arrived with his mistress, Veronica, who immediately dismissed Amy's efforts with a store-bought pie. Over dinner, both Rich and Veronica openly ridiculed Amy's traditional cooking as "quaint" and "not modern," while her own daughter, Lily, eagerly chose Veronica's sugary dessert over her mother's cake. This blatant disregard was a harsh blow, amplified later when Amy discovered her new business ideas were being stolen and flaunted by Veronica with Rich's complicity. The ultimate betrayal came when Amy saw Veronica flaunting the engraved anniversary watch Amy had secretly bought for Rich, now on Veronica's wrist. How could the man she had loved, the father of her child, weaponize her dreams and her love against her so cruelly? The raw humiliation became a searing anger, pushing Amy to the edge of despair, yet sparking a ferocious resolve. Just as Amy fought to rebuild her life from the ashes of betrayal, launching her own bakery, Rich and Veronica destroyed it again, meticulously trashing her new shop and stealing her grandmother’s precious recipe book. This was the final straw. It wasn't just about revenge anymore; it was about reclaiming her legacy./0/81122/coverorgin.jpg?v=75f911244f68e89eb0d9b44d8a292697&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Woman He Underestimated
The newsroom hummed on a Monday, just another day at the Johnson County Chronicle. My husband, Mark, the owner, was supposedly on an "urgent business trip" in Springfield. Then I saw it: his rarely used Instagram had a new post. Mark, arm around Tiffany Hayes, the new social media girl, at our local Fall Harvest Festival. Smiling, too close, sharing a cider donut. My breath stopped. He wasn't gone; he was here, with her. I instinctively tapped 'like'. A quiet "I see you." Moments later, Mark called. Furious. "What the hell was that? Trying to embarrass me?" He snapped. He accused me of being a "jealous teenager," aggressively defending Tiffany. The next day, she publicly twisted my 'like' into a classist insult on Slack. Then Mark' s public decree: "Apologize, or you're suspended." Suspended? From the paper I' d built for seven years? He wanted me to apologize to his mistress, who was publicly attacking me? I recalled his indifference when my throat closed from an allergic reaction, leaving me to rush to her aid. And now, he wanted me to give up six months' salary as "compensation" for her manufactured "emotional distress." The sheer audacity was stunning. "No, Mark," I said, my voice calm. "The answer is no." My resignation email, effective immediately, hit send. Relief, sharp and clean, washed over me. This fight was already over for me. He just didn't know it yet./1/118667/coverorgin.jpg?v=3413731f00a735facb881b3bc86c6a91&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Married To My Ex-Husband's Billionaire Uncle
To celebrate the end of her ten-year marriage, Isabelle Wells got blackout drunk and used a hotel keycard gifted by a friend to find an "escort." She poured out her heart about her husband Bradford cheating on her with her best friend, then dragged the handsome stranger into bed. But the next morning, the "escort" was wearing a tailored Armani suit. He wasn't a paid professional. He was Grayson Lloyd, the ruthless billionaire head of the Lloyd empire—and her ex-husband's untouchable uncle. Grayson trapped her against the door, showing her the scratch marks on his back, and coldly demanded she marry him as "compensation." Terrified, Isabelle fled, only to receive a devastating phone call. Bradford had framed her mother's small business for food contamination, threatening her with prison time. When Isabelle desperately rushed to beg Bradford for mercy, he and his mistress laughed in her face. "Get on your knees and tell everyone how you failed our marriage." Bradford sneered in the crowded bar, demanding she take the blame publicly just to save her mother. Isabelle stared at the man she had loved and supported for a decade. He didn't want to help; he just wanted to completely break her spirit and prove she was nothing without him. The despair burned away, leaving behind cold steel. Instead of kneeling, Isabelle poured a glass of champagne over Bradford's head, doused her former best friend, and walked out. Pulling out Grayson Lloyd's black business card, she dialed the devil's private number. She was going to marry the uncle, and they were all going to pay./1/102554/coverorgin.jpg?v=4a6755db96da59d6d46929ad80e205aa&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Framed By My Husband's Love
I was a star lawyer, undefeated in court. Then my husband and my rival framed me with fabricated evidence, landing me in prison and destroying my name. But the ultimate betrayal came after my release. My own adopted son, the boy I saved and raised, slashed my tires while my husband tampered with the brakes, sending my car flying off a cliff to silence me for good. The world declared me dead. For seven years, I' ve lived as a ghost, scrubbing toilets and hiding in the shadows while they built a perfect life on the ashes of mine. Now, they' ve dragged me back into their glittering world, using my son' s 18th birthday as the stage for their own engagement party-a final, public spectacle to humiliate me. They see a broken cleaner, a ghost they can easily dismiss. They're wrong. Tonight, I' m going live. And I' m bringing seven years of digital receipts that will burn their entire world to the ground./1/107560/coverorgin.jpg?v=365257fbac6c784338ee80e20cf371c6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Runaway Wife's Billion Dollar Secret
I was the high-society "fixer" who traded my freedom to pay off my father’s debts, living in a gilded penthouse as the perfect wife to billionaire Flint Harrington. My world was a silent, expensive cage until a mistress sent me a photo of my husband’s cufflinks on a generic hotel carpet. "He's not coming home tonight," she messaged, attaching a picture of a positive pregnancy test. The timing was lethal. Flint’s grandmother had just promised a multi-billion dollar stake in the family empire to the first heir born. When I confronted him, Flint didn't apologize; instead, he claimed he’d had a secret vasectomy years ago and that the mistress was a fraud. The room spun as the truth hit me. I was actually pregnant, and if Flint believed he was sterile, he would use the adultery clause in our prenup to brand me a liar and strip me of everything. In this family, a baby wasn't a child—it was a corporate asset that the Harrington Trust would legally seize the moment I gave birth. I stood there, watching my husband argue about his virility while I carried the very secret that would make me a fugitive. I was trapped in a marriage where my own body was a crime scene, and my husband was the judge and executioner. Then, my hidden burner phone buzzed at 3 AM with a melody I thought was buried in a grave. "Jo? It's me. I'm alive." It was Caleb, my first love who had been declared dead in action years ago. Flint smashed the phone in a dark rage before I could answer, but it was too late. I grabbed my passport and walked out of the penthouse. I was done fixing things for the Harringtons. I was taking their heir, and I was going to find my ghost./0/84251/coverorgin.jpg?v=7f43d6e11e63b61b6af4f3bcc06eb665&imageMogr2/format/webp)
When Home Becomes A Battlefield
I was just an ambitious architect, chasing a prestigious fellowship that would define my career. But then the email came, and my world blurred: the fellowship was awarded to my husband' s best friend, Ethan, who had no business getting it. My mother-in-law, Debra, beamed with feigned sympathy, calling it "God's plan" for me to focus on "a family," while my husband, Andrew, nodded along, smugly implying my career was an obstacle. It wasn't just losing a fellowship; it was discovering they had "accidentally" unplugged my laptop, erasing hours of work, and Andrew had allowed his mother to give away a $3,000 bottle of Scotch meant to save my promotion. The final, horrifying blow came when I overheard Andrew tell Debra he' d get me pregnant "even if I have to do it behind her back," just to make me "settle down and be a proper wife." They thought they had me trapped, a pawn in their twisted game of family. They had no idea that their cruel little "plan" had just awakened a cold, precise fury they couldn't even begin to imagine./0/93168/coverorgin.jpg?v=0862b49a8f88b1968e84457236ef446e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
I Ranked In The Top Three On The Country's Rich List
One hour after I was diagnosed with a brain tumor, my husband, Ethan Wood, a superstar, publicly cheated with his agent, Lilian Forster. Some media outlets bombarded me with calls and asked if I would pay a hefty sum to buy out the scandalous footage. Watching their intimate figures in the video, I coldly replied, "I won't." I decided to do what I had wanted to do in the remaining days. I divorced, invested, and rebuilt my gallery. I wanted to be my own empress. No one expected that the cheap paintings I casually snapped up would become wildly popular among collectors and that the stocks I bought on a whim would surge overnight. In just a few weeks, my wealth snowballed. I nearly landed among the top three on the rich list in Preayork. As Ethan and Lilian mocked that I had no time to enjoy my wealth, the doctor revealed to me that the supposed brain tumor was, in fact, a misdiagnosis./1/116790/coverorgin.jpg?v=d273f67496422e4d62af95d46e1b60f4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Flash Marriage To My Dead Husband
To pay for my sister's life-saving heart medication, I sold myself to the notoriously ruthless Roman family as a surrogate bride for their crippled, scarred heir. But the moment the one-million-dollar check cleared, my grandfather froze the medical account. He ordered me to steal the Roman Group's financial secrets, threatening to cut my sister's life support if I refused. I thought I was just a desperate girl trying to save her family, but my grandfather sneered and revealed the horrifying truth. I wasn't a bride; I was a sacrificial lamb. Twenty years ago, my family allegedly murdered the Roman patriarchs. My marriage was just the Romans' sick revenge plot to torture a Hayes bloodline. When I refused to be his spy, my own parents begged me to submit just to save their wealth. They watched coldly as my grandfather's guards dragged me toward the basement to break my spirit. I thrashed against their iron grips, suffocating in absolute despair. Why was I the one paying the price for a blood feud I knew nothing about? Was I just going to rot in the dark, a discarded pawn for both families? Before they could lock me away, the heavy mahogany doors exploded inward. The Roman estate's terrifying, breathtakingly handsome "executor"-the man who was supposed to be just a bodyguard-stepped through the dust with an armed tactical team. He pulled me behind his broad back, his dark eyes locking onto my grandfather with lethal amusement. "Who gave you the nerve to touch the Roman family's bride?"/0/79558/coverorgin.jpg?v=c840453ae8b47b2f0b7e06885d4304e9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Husband's Other Woman, My Stolen Life
"Ethan, this is unethical. It's criminal. She hasn't consented." Those chilling words, whispered in the sterile hum of an operating room, were the first thing I heard as consciousness flickered back. My heart pounded, cold dread snaking through my veins. Dr. Ben Carter, Ethan's old friend, was arguing with him. "She's my girlfriend, Ben. Practically my wife," Ethan scoffed, his voice laced with a terrifying casualness. "Chloe needs this kidney. Ava is a perfect match." Kidney. Chloe. My blood ran cold. The beautiful, fragile Chloe Vahn, who had always haunted our relationship, was now taking a piece of me, quite literally. I tried to scream, to move, but my body felt like lead, my throat raw. I felt a sharp tug, a searing line of fire on my side-the scalpel. Ten years of love, of sacrifice, building Ethan Reed and his company back from nothing, all for this. To be carved up like an animal for the woman he truly loved. When I finally regained full awareness, Ethan was by my bedside, a practiced look of concern on his face, spinning a lie about a ruptured ovarian cyst. But then, the overheard nurse's whispered conversation confirmed my nightmare: "Chloe's kidney transplant... he barely left her side." The pieces slammed into place. My despair solidified into a cold, hard resolve. No more. I grabbed my phone, scrolling to one contact I hadn't dared to call. Noah Hayes, Ethan's rival, a man of integrity. My finger trembled as I typed. "Noah," I managed, my voice raspy. "Are you still looking for a COO who knows Reed Innovate's strategies... and perhaps, a wife?" The silence stretched, then his voice, calm and serious, cut through the noise of my crumbling world. "My jet, seven days. LaGuardia."/0/20112/coverorgin.jpg?v=ec8cfe00651bbfc0d6be834f77827689&imageMogr2/format/webp)
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After Divorce:My arrogant ex-husband regrets
I sat alone at my long marble dining table, staring at a plate of cold truffle risotto. My husband, Jere, was late again, claiming he was stuck in a "war zone" of a board meeting for a multi-billion dollar merger. A single Instagram notification shattered the silence. It was a photo of a candlelit birthday dinner, featuring a man's hand resting on a white tablecloth. I recognized the slight veins, the jagged scar on the thumb, and the navy-faced Patek Philippe watch I had spent six months tracking down as a wedding gift. Jere wasn't in a boardroom; he was celebrating his ex-girlfriend Irina's birthday while texting me to "don't wait up." The next morning, I followed him to a VIP hospital wing. I watched through a cracked door as my husband cuddled a five-year-old boy and whispered tender promises to Irina. When he came home, he tried to buy my silence with a rare pink diamond bracelet, but I found the receipt: he had bought two identical ones. He had branded his wife and his mistress with matching jewelry, using hidden trackers to keep us both on a leash. When I confronted him, he didn't flinch. He coldly reminded me that he owned my father's massive debts and could send him to prison for insolvency fraud with one phone call. "Stop with the attitude, Deliah," he said. I felt like a ghost haunting my own life, trapped in a gilded cage by the man who paid for my mother's heart surgery while keeping a secret family across town. The humiliation peaked at our rescheduled anniversary dinner when Jere received a text, threw a stack of hundreds at me like I was a stranger, and abandoned me in a crowded restaurant to rush back to her. "Pay the bill," he commanded before walking out. Standing in the wreckage of a shattered crystal vase back at the penthouse, I realized my silence was the only thing keeping his empire standing. I pulled the crumpled divorce papers from my purse and signed my name with a steady hand. I wasn't just walking away; I was calling his sister to help me burn his perfect world to the ground./1/119606/coverorgin.jpg?v=053abbbf6453d824449beb248f555a79&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Rejecting The Tycoon: My Secret Billionaire Life
Arlie Solomon walked into her grandfather's funeral in faded jeans, ignoring the disgusted stares of her elite family who viewed her as a forgotten country outcast. But the grand hall froze when the lawyer read the final will. Her grandfather had left his entire billionaire empire—and an irrevocable marriage contract with Kerr Ward, the city's most powerful bachelor—solely to Arlie. The family erupted in venomous rage. Her uncle and cousins relentlessly tried to humiliate her, banishing the new billionaire to a dusty servant's room and mocking her lack of a high school diploma. When petty bullying failed, her uncle slammed a contract on the desk, threatening to publicly disown her if she didn't sign over the company. "You are tearing this family apart. Sign this, or we are done with you!" They thought she was just a helpless, uneducated girl they could easily crush. They had no idea that her five-year absence was a complete void—a "digital ghost" status so heavily encrypted that even Kerr Ward's top-tier intelligence network couldn't find a single trace of her existence. Faced with their ultimate threat, Arlie didn't panic. She calmly pulled a pre-drafted legal document from her backpack to permanently sever their family ties. "Once you sign this, you are legally strangers trespassing in my private residence. I will have you escorted off the property by the police." The charade of the ignorant country girl was over; it was time to clean house./0/17922/coverorgin.jpg?v=806640ec11b7f2ddb91419a2d7c16595&imageMogr2/format/webp)
On Her Knees
The back of his hand hit my face for the third time but this slap really stung. The force of it rocked my head back but it wasn't enough to knock me off my feet. "Kneel," he commanded again, his voice thick with fury. I brought the back of one of my hands, that were bound in front of my body by rope, to wipe away the trickle of blood from the corner of my mouth. "I do not kneel," I whispered. I know what kind of things they made girls do on their knees. He would have to beat me senseless, kill me even to get me to do those things. The man's green eyes, the only thing I was able to clearly see in the darkness of this windowless room, glinted. He nodded, an unsettling evil grin stretching across his pale face. "Then you will stand." His fist hit me in the center of my chest and I hunched over, trying to breathe past the pain. Then he bent to whisper in my ear, grabbing a fistful of my dark curls, "But I promise you will wish you had gotten down on your knees." For Teryn Gardener, the truth behind human trafficking and the sex trade was far darker than she could have imagined; as if the institution wasn't terrible in and of itself. Behind the prostitutes are their pimps and behind it all are monsters beyond her wildest imaginations: bloodthirsty vampires who kidnap and enslave human girls in cheap brothels. They plan to use Teryn; to break her will but she refuses to cry. She refuses to bend the knee. She refuses to submit. She is intent on staying alive and getting out of there without having anything to do with the monsters she has come to despise. But what is she to do when her resistance leads her into the arms of one of the monsters? Will their senses of will clash or will Giovanni be the one to bring her to heel?/0/81279/coverorgin.jpg?v=47ea41f0c387825230b34ba4776a5761&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Unseen Betrayal: A Love Murdered
Anya Sharma had it all: a brilliant architecture career and a seemingly perfect marriage to Julian Vance, San Francisco' s beloved "People' s Champion." Everyone adored them, his public devotion legendary, filled with grand, romantic gestures. But Anya quietly confessed the truth: his public devotion was a meticulously crafted lie, a shield for relentless infidelity, revealed by early anonymous emails and late-night whispers. The cracks widened daily, fueled by unfamiliar perfumes and furtive texts, pushing Anya towards a shattering truth about Julian' s affair with Izzy Moreau. Then came the crushing realization during a car crash: in a split second, Julian instinctively protected Izzy and his precious work, forcing pregnant Anya to bear the brutal impact alone, leading to their child' s devastating loss. Anya watched him perform as the grieving husband, oblivious to his continued secret life with Izzy, now secretly pregnant with his child. The public airport proposal to Izzy, where Julian denounced Anya, was a final, humiliating blow. His obsession spiraled into relentless harassment, culminating in Anya's chilling abduction. Trapped in a luxurious prison, Anya was subjected to Julian' s pathological delusion, as he attempted to force her into a twisted family with Izzy's son, falsely claiming the child was theirs through a secret surrogacy. Anya, reeling from the profound injustice and overwhelming sense of betrayal, recognized his true depravity. Desperate and cornered, she made a choice for self-preservation and freedom. With a single, decisive strike, Anya ended Julian's tyranny, shattering his manufactured world and reclaiming her life from a nightmare that had consumed her for too long, paving the way for a genuine future with Ben Carter./0/37946/coverorgin.jpg?v=175cedaeaf8a51782b23e0d1ff8916df&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Numb Wife
Shin Alexandra Ferrell, is a strong independent woman who has been through hell multiple times. Since childhood she already experienced hell, things that a child shouldn't really have experienced in the first place however, she, herself wasn't expecting that there is even worse than what she had already experienced. It was the worst hell for her that made her leave and go on a hiatus for about a year. After a whole of being away from her homeland, the country that she also wanted to forget yet also want to stay in - she came back but there was something different about her - something has changed. And that is something that the people who know her for a long time didn't expect and that change is something that should really be feared because she came back not just to sit back and do nothing - she came back for revenge, she came back to avenge herself from the pain that a single man caused but was she really successful?/1/119919/coverorgin.jpg?v=5d969c4bfcf6891966320c6cb262965f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Betrayed Wife’s Million-Dollar Revenge
Beverly Greene spent eleven years being the perfect wife. She gave up her career, raised their daughter, cared for her husband’s dying mother, and clipped coupons while Warren Hicks built the life they were supposed to share. Then, while cleaning his spotless SUV, Beverly found a torn condom wrapper in the glove box. And a strand of honey-brown hair wedged deep in the passenger seat. The dashcam told her the rest. Warren wasn’t just cheating. He was waiting for his bedridden mother to die so he could inherit her estate. He had delayed the medical care that might have saved her, then hid over a million dollars in secret accounts while Beverly served as his unpaid caregiver. To his mistress, Warren promised everything. To his wife, he offered lies. And behind her back, he called Beverly a “clueless housewife” who would be lost without him. For one night, Beverly shattered. Then she stopped crying. Divorce would have been easy, if their terrified young daughter hadn’t begged her not to break their family apart. So Beverly stayed in the same house with the man who had betrayed her, smiled across the dinner table, and quietly became the most dangerous woman he would ever underestimate. She backed up the recordings. She copied the bank statements. She saved every filthy message, every hidden account, every proof of his cruelty. Warren Hicks thought Beverly had nothing. No job. No power. No way out. He was wrong. Beverly was done being the perfect wife. Now she was going to be his reckoning./0/94107/coverorgin.jpg?v=3c40bc5fe3613922e9da28c5d42fb627&imageMogr2/format/webp)
