Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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I Married The Villain To Destroy You
I stared at the two faint pink lines on the stick, the miracle I had bled for over three years. I was finally pregnant. Then, my phone buzzed with a video message from an unknown number. It was my husband, Marco. He wasn't at a business meeting. He was at a club, his hand up the skirt of a woman named Sienna. "She is barren. She is useless," Marco laughed on the screen, promising his mistress the world if she gave him a son. He was stealing millions from my company to fund her life, while I played the perfect, submissive wife. But the betrayal didn't stop at infidelity. At the family gala, his grandmother publicly humiliated me by pinning the family heirloom on Sienna's fake baby bump, crowning her the new matriarch. When I confronted them at the race track, Sienna pushed me down a flight of concrete stairs. As I lay on the asphalt, bleeding and losing the very child Marco had desperately prayed for, he didn't help me. He spat on me. "You crazy bitch," he snarled, checking on his mistress while his real son died inside me. He didn't know he had just killed his own heir. And he didn't know that the man stepping out of the shadows to pick me up wasn't a paramedic. It was Dante Moretti, the most dangerous Capo in New York and Marco's sworn enemy. I looked at Marco one last time. "Our marriage is dead." I took the enemy's hand. Marco wanted a war? I was about to burn his entire world to the ground./1/103631/coverorgin.jpg?v=9caffa87a08b49fab9d29d99bd1e7e08&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Perfect Lie, Her Vicious Truth
For five years, I was the loving Mrs. Clayton, enduring painful fertility treatments to give my husband, Bronson, the heir he deserved. He was my rock, my protector since a college hazing incident left me barren. Then I overheard the truth from behind his study door. Our marriage was a sham, never legally filed. He' d had a vasectomy before our wedding. It was all an elaborate lie to protect Bridgett-his childhood love and the very woman who orchestrated the assault that destroyed my future. He wasn't my savior. He was her accomplice, and I was just his compensation. Every gentle touch, every reassuring word, was a performance. He thought I' d never find out. He thought I' d always be his devoted, clueless wife. But when his precious Bridgett harmed my sick brother, my grief turned to ice. I smiled sweetly, played the part of the forgiving wife, and began gathering the evidence that would burn their entire world to the ground./0/81417/coverorgin.jpg?v=fe4b579e1e3ae94adf7b7a8ad20a6e39&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Scholarship Kid to Capital King
My heart pounded. This was it – the final presentation for the American Innovators Architectural Prize. My design, "The Phoenix Initiative," was my masterpiece, my future. Then, Blake Sterling, my rival, strode onto the stage and began presenting my project. Every line, every concept, every innovative detail. Mine. My blood ran cold, but the nightmare deepened when he publicly accused me of plagiarism. Gasps filled the room, and all eyes turned to me. Then Tiffany, my fiancée of seven years, stood up beside him. Her voice trembling, she voiced her "disappointment," her tears sealing my public disgrace. I was abandoned, my life's work stolen, my reputation ruined, and my academic future jeopardized by a powerful family and a corrupt dean. The woman I loved had just publicly thrown me under the bus, dismissing seven years of history for a man she barely knew. My mind reeled from the sheer audacity, the cold betrayal. How could they do this? How could she? I felt utterly crushed, yet a chilling clarity solidified within me. They saw me as a mere scholarship kid, easily crushed, and now they demanded I apologize and help Blake refine the very project they stole, threatening to blacklist me permanently if I refused. So I agreed. But as I worked days under their watch, I wasn' t fixing his project; I was subtly implanting a fatal, hidden flaw – a ticking time bomb only designed for catastrophic failure. Then, feigning a sudden, excruciating illness, I walked out, leaving them scrambling, speeding towards a new life. They thought they had cornered me, little did they know they had just woken up the heir to Cole Capital Development./0/83920/coverorgin.jpg?v=d38eb8cad00d3974c2afcf3a4c566ecf&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Intern Who Fought Back
The Austin heat was brutal, but I worked 60-hour weeks as an intern at Chadwick' s Smokehouse, fueled by free brisket and the promise of a paycheck. I desperately needed that money for my community college tuition and my brother' s medical bills back home. But when my internship ended, Mr. Chadwick and his daughter Gabrielle laughed in my face, telling me the "experience" was my payment and I should be grateful. They tried to dismiss me with a crumpled hundred-dollar bill, dismissing two months of grueling work. I fought back and got paid, but their retaliation was swift and brutal. First, they used their influence as college donors to get my scholarship suspended and my work-study revoked, threatening my entire future. Then, Gabrielle launched a vicious online smear campaign, fabricating a pornographic dating profile with my picture, falsely accusing me of being a "home-wrecker" and a "prostitute." The internet exploded, dragging my name through the mud, and the college dean demanded my immediate withdrawal. They wanted to bury me, to make me disappear quietly and protect their precious reputations. But they severely underestimated me. I wasn't just a film student; I knew how to put a story together, and now I wasn't fighting for money-I was fighting for my life, my family, and my future. I wouldn't just survive; I would make sure the Chadwick empire crumbled under the weight of its own ugliness, and they would get exactly what they deserved./1/115051/coverorgin.jpg?v=934642c0f97d74edac3fe078639100f7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Freedom, His Lifelong Regret
For nine years, I poured my soul into proving I was worthy of my wealthy boyfriend, Clayton Wright. I endured his endless, humiliating "tests," sacrificing everything for a place in his world. But at our engagement party, the final test was revealed. He stood by as his ex-girlfriend, Anjelica, framed me for shattering a priceless family heirloom. "You manipulative bitch!" he snarled, slapping me across the face. He then ordered his bodyguard to force me to my knees, grinding them into the sharp, broken fragments of the watch. As I bled on the floor, he pulled out his phone and gave a single command: demolish my childhood home, the last piece I had of my deceased father. He destroyed my past and my dignity, yet minutes later, my phone buzzed with a message from him. "The engagement is just for show. I'll still marry you. You're my destiny." That night, clutching the last of my father's life insurance, I booked a one-way ticket and vanished. He thought he had finally broken his little project, but he had just unleashed a woman with nothing left to lose./0/82825/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106201138&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Governor's Daughter: Reborn to Reign
I woke up in my luxurious bedroom at the Governor' s mansion, silk sheets, sunlit, on the eve of my debutante ball. This wasn't the cold, damp room where I' d breathed my last. But then, the memories slammed into me, a tidal wave of betrayal. My own brother, Harrison, my fiancé, Brent Astor, and Chloe, my father' s orphaned campaign manager' s daughter we' d taken in, had conspired to destroy me. Chloe, in my special gown, stealing my moment. Their public smear campaign, framed as a 'charity initiative,' was a front for an offshore nightmare that meticulously ruined my name. My father's health mysteriously deteriorated, he died, and Harrison ascended to Governor. I, Savi, died alone, my reputation in tatters, branded for 'mistreating' sweet, innocent Chloe. The phantom pain of my last breath still haunted me. How could my closest family members unleash such malevolent destruction, assassinating my character and ultimately my life, all while posing as heroes? Why was I, the victim, painted as the villain? I looked at the calendar: it was that day. The debutante ball. I was back. A fierce, cold rage extinguished the fear. This time, things would be different. Chloe wouldn' t steal anything. Harrison and Brent would pay, dearly. And my father' s honorable legacy? I would secure it, no matter the cost./0/60611/coverorgin.jpg?v=8da50d497663e8efae6e3b5e2b60ebc5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Fearless Psychotic
On my way to the hospital to pick up medicine, I unexpectedly saw my disgusting neighbor maliciously pushing and squeezing a little girl! The little girl was on the verge of tears, her eyes pleading for help. I immediately stood up and switched places with her. Seeing this, the disgusting neighbor directly shoved the video he was playing in front of me, revealing a disgusting yellow-toothed smirk and saying, "Oh, you came just in time. Then you can watch action movies with me instead of her." I immediately struck back with a heavy blow, and then slowly laughed and said, "Old man, now it's your turn to star in it. How does that feel?"/0/83138/coverorgin.jpg?v=40eea7c1b366dbddc45d9ef6a28dcc64&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Malice of the Almost-In-Laws
A romantic getaway, a beautiful Texas hotel, my fiancé Kevin by my side—it should have been perfect. I thought our future was set. Then searing pain hit. A ruptured ovarian cyst, internal bleeding. I was dying. Kevin? He ignored my pleas, focused on a non-refundable hotel, dismissing my agony as 'period cramps' before I ended our engagement and called an Uber to the ER. But his cruelty didn't end there. From my hospital bed, I learned he'd slandered me online as a 'drama queen.' Then, his mother stormed my office, scattering AI-generated fake intimate photos, trying to shame me publicly. My life was falling apart, not from my illness, but from their calculated malice. How could the man I almost married, and his family, be so vindictive, so determined to destroy me, the actual victim? They thought I was broken. But I was just getting started. I exposed their lies, saw his mom arrested. And when Kevin, desperate and armed with a knife, tried to manipulate me in front of everyone, threatening self-harm to escape consequences, I didn't just stand there. I gave him a taste of his own drama. I faked a surgical emergency, turning the crowd, and the cops, squarely on him. This wasn't just about survival; it was about turning the tables completely./1/100972/coverorgin.jpg?v=486ce0afb0cf447b8c3a8f85f7ffb35e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Captain's Cold Aspen Revenge
For seven years, I funded my husband Gonzalo's PhD. I paid for everything. A week after our wedding, his young "mentee," Kloe, moved in with us, claiming a rare autoimmune disorder made her "fragile." On our Aspen ski trip, he used my money to buy her an $8,000 handbag. Then, he demanded I give Kloe my high-performance ski jacket because her flimsy one wasn't warm enough. When I refused, he ripped it off my body. I slipped on the ice, hitting my head as he walked away with her, leaving me injured and freezing in the snow. Later that night, he abandoned me again while I was sick in our hotel room, to get a separate room with Kloe. He said they needed to "discuss his academic paper." But he forgot one crucial detail. I'm not just a wife. I'm Captain Amy Payne, U.S. Army Reserve. I called my best friend, a manager at the hotel chain. "I need a master key," I told her. "We're about to crash a very important academic discussion."/0/84859/coverorgin.jpg?v=3c7208fc0d947e3e5a3014b1639fd5fd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reclaiming My Stolen Legacy
The scent of fresh paint used to be my sanctuary, a promise of a future forged in art alongside Liam, my fiancé, and Chloe, my adoptive sister. But that future shattered the moment I saw my masterpiece, the one I' d poured my soul into for six months, on an easel between them, while Liam declared Chloe "a true genius." They left me in the gallery, a ghost in my own stolen dreams, my heart meticulously dismantled. I died alone, forgotten, my name erased from my own work, replaced by Chloe' s. Now, I'm back, returned to the critical moment before it all went wrong, eighteen years old, a month before the exhibition, before everything was stolen. When Liam' s name lit up my phone, instead of fluttering with excitement, my past life flashed before my eyes-the betrayal, the theft, the illness that ended me. This time, the phone rang unanswered. He was persistent, but when I finally picked up, my voice was cold, decisive: "The engagement is off. We're done." His furious pounding later felt like the drumbeat of a new life, as I stared at the man I once thought was my world, now just a shallow reminder of what I'd left behind. He sneered, "This is about Chloe, isn't it? You're jealous of her talent, her fire." Little did he know, the fire raging inside me was not jealousy, but an inferno of righteous fury, sparked by a terrible truth whispered behind closed doors: Chloe wasn't just stealing my art; she had stolen my entire life the day I was born. Now, I wasn' t just fighting for my art; I was fighting for my very identity, ready to burn their world to the ground to get it back./0/90178/coverorgin.jpg?v=7ebe7abb4518e0b613284bf731f6547a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Three Years, One Cruel Lie
For three years, my fiancé Jaxon kept me in a top Swiss clinic, helping me recover from the PTSD that shattered my life. When I was finally accepted into Juilliard, I booked a one-way ticket to New York, ready to surprise him and start our future. But as I was signing my discharge papers, the receptionist handed me an official certificate of recovery. It was dated a full year ago. She explained that my "medication" for the last twelve months had been nothing but vitamin supplements. I had been perfectly healthy, a prisoner held captive by forged medical reports and lies. I flew home and went straight to his private club, only to overhear him laughing with his friends. He was married. He had been for the entire three years I was locked away. "I've been handling Alina," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "A few tweaked reports, the right 'medication' to keep her foggy. It bought me the time I needed to secure my marriage to Krystal." The man who swore to protect me, the man I worshipped, had orchestrated my imprisonment. My love story was just a footnote in his. Later that night, his mother slid a check across the table. "Take this and disappear," she ordered. Three years ago, I had thrown a similar check in her face, declaring my love wasn't for sale. This time, I picked it up. "Alright," I said, my voice hollow. "I'll leave. After my father's death anniversary, Jaxon Francis will never find me again."/1/102693/coverorgin.jpg?v=23600786701570755942fba8dccec7dc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Four Years Built On Deceit
For four years, I believed my fiancé, Damari, was fighting for us. I watched him endure his grandfather' s cruel punishments-exile, financial ruin, public humiliation-all because the old man supposedly refused to approve our marriage. I waited, believing his sacrifice was the ultimate proof of his love. Then I found the real document hidden in his office. It wasn't a rejection. It was an approval, stamped and dated, with a tiny, forged "not" scrawled in different ink. The entire four-year struggle was a lie. When I confronted him, he crumbled. He did it for his obsessive assistant, Cydney. "She can't live without me, Augusta," he pleaded. "She needs me." My world collapsed. His devotion wasn't for me; it was a performance to appease another woman. All his "sacrifices" were just a cruel way to keep me waiting while he played the hero for someone else. So when he abandoned me one last time to run to Cydney's side, I made my choice. I packed my bags, left New York, and started a new life, determined to never be anyone's second choice again./0/92994/coverorgin.jpg?v=e8a8c1b7a44a99b66b82a44a993bf6ea&imageMogr2/format/webp)
No Mercy for the Past
I was reborn, back to the day my daughter and my husband's old flame were kidnapped. Over the phone, the kidnappers demanded I choose one. In the background, my daughter Anne and another girl sobbed. My husband Jed Bennett snatched the phone, his eyes bloodshot, and roared at me, "Katrina has claustrophobia! Save her first!" In my past life, he chose Katrina Watson, and it cost my daughter's life. I laughed, tears streaming down my face. "Mommy... I'm scared..." came Anne's faint cry through the receiver. Jed bellowed again, "Amelia! Choose! Save Katrina!" I looked at him, nodded slowly, and took the phone. Then, calmly, I said into it, "Do it."/1/100503/coverorgin.jpg?v=2120f81b8aff644f922edc91990bdbe7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Grave They Dug For Her
I lay broken in a hospital bed after a brutal car crash, but my family never came. My father and brother were too busy preparing for my manipulative half-sister Ainsley's wedding. The groom was my fiancé, Clayton. While I fought for my life, his last words to me over the phone were a cold command. "Go to hell for all I care." They abandoned me, told the world I was dead, and even carved my name on a tombstone. They buried me under a mountain of lies so Ainsley could steal the life that was mine. But I didn't die. I was reborn. Five years later, I returned as Ivy Richardson-a bestselling author, married to a tech CEO, and backed by a family with unimaginable power. I only came back to settle my mother's estate. But the first person I met was Clayton, standing in front of my grave, mourning the girl he helped kill./1/101911/coverorgin.jpg?v=1b23ecb3b7e94c15d8cacf4d03e9f57c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Abandoned In Paris, Reborn In London
For three years, I played second fiddle to my boyfriend' s "childhood friend," Eve. When Damion finally whisked me away to Paris to rekindle our dying spark, I thought things might change. Instead, the moment we arrived, he abandoned me in the hotel lobby without my passport because Eve called with a "crisis." I spent my first night in Paris stranded and penniless while he rushed to comfort her. When he finally returned the next morning, he didn't apologize. He flew into a rage because I' d sought safety in an old college friend' s room, accusing me of cheating while he still smelled like her cheap perfume. He actually punched the only man who helped me, screaming that I was the toxic one. The gaslighting was the final straw. I didn't feel anger anymore, just a cold, liberating indifference. While he begged on his knees, quitting his job and promising to cut Eve off forever, I simply walked away. I boarded a plane to London for a promotion I' d once turned down for him, leaving him with nothing but his regrets and the "friend" he chose over me./0/60612/coverorgin.jpg?v=40f13f8d47671da8f3533bdd021e9c0f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
I'm The Master Of My Fate
My girlfriend is proud and cold, she has never been kind to me. We have been together for three years, and whenever I accidentally touch her, she would humiliate herself by shedding tears. I thought she was pure and precious, so I loved her even more, but then she slept with her childhood friend. On the eve of our engagement, she wanted to buy a car, but I got into a car accident while picking her up. When I called her, I heard her childhood friend's voice saying, "This Ferrari is just okay, barely acceptable!" My girlfriend comforted him gently and then impatiently yelled at me, "You're such a useless person! Forget it, just send me 2 million yuan, Xander brother is almost ready to pick up the car." I closed my eyes in despair. When I opened them again, I was back to the day when Noreen wanted to buy a car. I rushed to the 4S store to witness their ugly behavior./0/86737/coverorgin.jpg?v=36e996935f8d76bf1522cde66e7d052a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Betrayed By Love, Reclaimed My Life
I drove to my father's mansion, divorce papers on the passenger seat, ready to tell him about my broken marriage. But voices from his study stopped me cold. My stepmother' s pleased tone and my father' s soft replies revealed a horrifying plot: they had orchestrated my forced marriage to David, drugging him and luring me there, all to seize my mother' s company, Miller Corp. My own father had sold me for a company. The man who orchestrated my five years of misery also murdered my mother. My world shattered. Grief turned to rage. I confronted David, only to find him with my stepsister, Samantha. He ripped up my divorce papers and choked me, accusing me of using him. My own husband, the one person I thought I could rely on, stood by as my father beat me. He let me risk my life to save his mistress. He let me lose our baby. After all that, they offered me a divorce, believing they had won. Why did they hate me so much? Why was I, his wife, continually punished while his mistress was doted on? What dark secret bound them all to this twisted game, and what was truly at stake? But they underestimated me. I refused to be a victim. I would reclaim my mother' s legacy, expose their crimes, and make them pay for every tear, every betrayal, and every loss./0/83139/coverorgin.jpg?v=24d940d6583fb02249e67efe4e72b7a4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Tainted Vows, Deadly Truths
A crisp white envelope, starkly blank save for my name, Ashley Carter, typed neatly, lay on my kitchen counter. Inside, a single sheet: a confidential lab report. Tiffany Bellweather. HIV Positive. My heart hammered with a sickening dread as I drove to the new house, the future home Mark and I had planned to fill with our life. I bypassed the door, stepping in to find him, my fiancé Mark, and his high school flame, Tiff, brazenly entangled on the floor of what was supposed to be our master bedroom. The air left my lungs, a horrifyingly familiar scene echoing from a nightmare I had already lived through. Last time, I' d stumbled upon Tiff' s secrets, tried desperately to warn Mark, only for Tiff to "accidentally" fall, and him to blame me. The true horror followed: standing at Tiff' s grave, Mark, a mask of cold fury, watching as his hired thugs tortured, violated, and ultimately ended me, all live-streamed to the world. My mother, heartbroken, suffered a fatal stroke, and my strong father, David, was financially ruined and then silenced forever by those same brutes. All of it, because I tried to warn him about Tiff. Now, the lab report, undeniable proof, was in my purse. But when Mark called later, his voice accusing, "Are you trying to slander Tiff with fake medical reports again?", my blood ran cold. Again? That single word shattered my world. He remembered. He was reborn too. The game had just changed, becoming unimaginably more dangerous. This time, I wouldn't warn him. This time, I wouldn' t say a single word. My revenge would be silent, precise, and absolute./1/103163/coverorgin.jpg?v=60bde69deb3d7c9c89d92c240b5ffb51&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Sister He Scorned, Now Adored
For sixteen years, my step-brother Holden Wolf was my entire world. Every design I sketched, every dream I harbored, was a secret love letter to him. Then he got engaged to a perfect social media influencer. When I finally showed him my heart in a portfolio of my life's work, he ripped it to shreds in a fit of rage. "This is sick, Chelsea! I'm your brother!" The humiliation didn't stop. He drunkenly forced himself on me while whispering his fiancée's name, only to blame me the next morning. "What were you doing in my bed? Your behavior is inappropriate." My own mother called, not to comfort me, but to accuse me of trying to seduce him and ruin his perfect life. After a lifetime of devotion, I was just a problem to be managed, a body to be mistaken in the dark. His love wasn't protection; it was a cage. So I dyed my hair platinum blonde, accepted my estranged uncle's offer to study design in New York, and vanished without a word. This time, I was saving myself./0/83452/coverorgin.jpg?v=8ef68c018f72e64cacc1566795374b31&imageMogr2/format/webp)
