Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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He Healed Her Broken, Brilliant Heart
For seven years, I was his secret. His brilliant, naive Elodie. Last night, he held me and called me his future. Today, his sister, my best friend, showed me the pictures from his engagement party. My life's work, a revolutionary bio-printed kidney, was meant to save his dying fiancée. But then I overheard his real plan. If my research failed, he had a backup. "She's got a nice pair of kidneys," he told his friends. "Perfect match." He'd secretly filmed our most intimate moments, blackmail to force me onto the operating table. I wasn't his love. I was his insurance policy. A spare part. He thought he had me cornered. He underestimated his "naive little scientist." So I faked my death and disappeared. Five years later, I'm back, my name on the cover of every scientific journal. And he's about to find out that the woman he tried to butcher is now the one who holds his entire world in her hands./0/99859/coverorgin.jpg?v=b0f26f7185884f8db84b2f4cc6462574&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Invisible Girlfriend's New Start
After three years of being the agreeable, invisible girlfriend to my tech CEO boyfriend, Edward, I finally left him. Then Brody Frazier, his charming rival, swept into my life, determined to use me to get under Edward's skin. But at a tech gala, Edward cornered me, publicly declaring his love and flashing a "promise ring" he claimed he'd bought for me weeks ago. He did this right after his high school crush, Jeannette, announced their engagement, and right before he accused me of humiliating him. He insisted his feelings for Jeannette were a "youthful fantasy" and that I was his "anchor," his "stability." He said he loved me. But I remembered the truth. I remembered the small, hand-carved wooden bird he'd once made. A gift he'd had me send to Jeannette years ago, along with a love note he dictated himself. And I knew his desperate confession wasn't love. It was damage control./0/71632/coverorgin.jpg?v=2191d9a20d89d1f506603be5ede86deb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Legacy of Moon and Blood
Do you dare to step into a world where forbidden love, blood, and the full moon dictate fate? Laura, marked by tragedy and protected by a silver bracelet, discovers that her lineage hides a secret that could change everything. The daughter of an impossible love between a human and a werewolf, Laura will be forced to choose between her humanity and the wild call of her true nature. With the help of Xaqui, the mysterious son of the alpha, she must face ancient betrayals, a war between humans and werewolves, and a truth that will unleash the power flowing through her blood. The moon lights her path, but danger lurks in every shadow. Discover whether Laura will be able to break the cycle of hatred or if the world will fear her for what she is destined to become./1/104077/coverorgin.jpg?v=5ae016fe04edb74d243c2f68fe7d84ad&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Substitute Lover To Scorned Heiress
I gave up my family's billion-dollar fortune to build a company from scratch with my college boyfriend, Bryant. I fought my father for him, believing our love was the one thing I could count on. Then his childhood sweetheart, Kiley, came back to town, and I discovered the devastating truth: I was never his true love, just a convenient stand-in he chose because my smile reminded him of hers. He moved her into his office, let her humiliate me, and even bought her a custom wedding gown in my name, trying to pass it off as an anniversary gift when I found it. The night he came home smelling of her perfume and used his dead mother's memory to manipulate me, something inside me finally broke. "You're all I have left," he whispered, holding me tight. He thinks I'm the same naive girl who fell for his lies. But with my own family's empire now on the brink of collapse, I've already accepted an arranged marriage. And before I go, I'm going to burn his entire world to the ground./0/80717/coverorgin.jpg?v=2f39efcc05d04da59d44ed1a2efdaaef&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Secret Son, Her Silent Rage
My life was a picture-perfect dream: a loving husband, Ethan, and our joyful six-year-old daughter, Lily. That perfect image shattered the day I received a letter stating the impossible: my daughter, Lily, was not biologically mine. My husband calmly tried to brush it off, but a cold suspicion led me to a hidden recording, revealing his affair with another woman, Veronica, and a chilling secret about our first child, Noah, who I was told died at birth. The truth was a physical blow: Noah was alive, merely swapped at birth by them, then brutally killed by Veronica, and his tiny body preserved as a specimen. Ethan had even secretly put me on contraception for years, ensuring I couldn't have more children of my own. My entire life, every memory, every tender moment, had been a calculated lie engineered by the man I loved, leaving me consumed by a silent, bone-deep rage. How could someone I trusted so completely orchestrate such an elaborate, monstrous betrayal, all while forcing me to live under their roof, seeing the woman who stole my child? But amidst the wreckage, a burning resolve ignited: I would stop playing the victim, gather every piece of damning evidence, and systematically dismantle the monster who destroyed my family, piece by agonizing piece./1/114460/coverorgin.jpg?v=7bc3d339279f95e9e3ce22d45a1ea303&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Caged Canary Finds Her Sky
My hands shook as I stared at the pregnancy test: "Pregnant." My dream of a family, born from a lonely orphanage childhood, was finally coming true. Then, a woman's laugh on the intercom, followed by Holden's cold voice revealing I was just a "tool" he'd dump with a check. The digital screen glowed, announcing the life growing inside me. After years in sterile orphanage rooms, I was finally going to build the complete home I always craved. I planned a romantic surprise for Holden, eager to share our news. But then, a piercing static from the intercom panel shattered the quiet. A woman’s purr, Estella’s voice, cut through the air, asking Holden when he’d dump "that boring, common woman upstairs." Holden’s reply, flat and calculating, revealed I was merely a spotless tool to clean up his family's image, to be discarded after next month's charity gala. My knees gave out. I collapsed onto the freezing tile, the pregnancy test now a disgusting joke. Holden’s footsteps approached, forcing me to hide the symbol of my shattered future deep in my makeup bag, dreading his discovery. He later presented a brutal prenuptial agreement, ensuring I'd leave with nothing. At a family dinner, Estella, adorned with the diamond necklace Holden bought for his "future wife," publicly humiliated me by spilling wine on my gown, while Holden embraced her and coldly ordered me to clean myself up. My tears stopped. The pathetic, frightened mask melted away, revealing a woman no longer naive, no longer controlled. Wiping away the ink of his false promises, I clutched my flat stomach, a silent vow forming. He thought I’d leave with a check and my shame, but I would make Holden Dalton learn what a real price was./0/98562/coverorgin.jpg?v=914c76b0148ad0c26fafe5b4a97dd38f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Betrayal, My Steel-Legged Return
The first time my husband tried to have me killed, he used our eight-year-old daughter as the bait. After I discovered his affair with a woman whose college tuition I was paying, he staged our daughter's kidnapping to lure me into a trap. I woke up in a hospital, my legs amputated, my womb removed, a permanent cripple. My husband, Eugene, played the part of the grieving spouse perfectly, promising police he' d find the monsters responsible. But I overheard him whispering to our daughter in the hallway. "You were so brave," he praised her. "You made Mommy believe you were in danger. It was the only way to stop her from leaving us." Her reply destroyed what was left of my soul. "I like Brenna better anyway. She's prettier than Mommy." They thought they had broken me, leaving me a shattered shell of a woman. So I let them believe it. I faked my own suicide and vanished. Now, three years later, I've returned. Standing on two legs of polished steel, I'm the CEO of a robotics empire, and I'm here to burn their world to the ground./0/83962/coverorgin.jpg?v=bcaf65e32532487eafe5d3620bf81b3f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Unseen Empress of Sound
My belly swollen, nine months in, I clutched the counter as a brutal contraction stole my breath. "Ethan," I gasped, "I think it's the baby. It's too early." He didn't even glance up from his phone, scrolling through pictures of Sabrina Chavez, the singer who' d stolen my song. "Not now, Jocelyn," he drawled, "I'm dealing with a crisis." He meant Sabrina's stylist sent the wrong shoes. Not impending premature birth. Another wave of pain hit, sharper. I saw red on my legs. But he took my phone and keys. "You're going to sit down, drink some water, and stop trying to sabotage the biggest night of my career." He left, the door clicking like a coffin lid. An hour later, I was bleeding on the floor, the storm had knocked out the landlines, and the front door was locked. When help finally came, it was Ethan' s mother, who called my pain "theatrics," then shoved me into the dark, damp storm cellar, filled with corrosive cleaner. My baby died there, in the acid, in the dark. I should have died. I did die, to the world. But my father, the reclusive music legend Jackson Fuller, saved me. Now, the old Jocelyn is gone, burned away. And from the ashes, a new one has risen. And she wants revenge./0/90451/coverorgin.jpg?v=853a3eeddad27930047c9631b77c3f34&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Her Vengeance, His Ruined Life
My son was dead. The official report called it a suicide, a drug overdose. But I knew it was a lie. I was a Crime Scene Investigator, and I had processed his body myself. The evidence screamed murder. I appealed, seven times, each time presenting irrefutable proof. Each time, District Attorney Bentley Shannon slammed the door in my face, dismissing my grief as delusion. The system I had served for twenty years was protecting a killer. So, I took the law into my own hands. I kidnapped the District Attorney's daughter, Dallas Shannon, and broadcast my demands to the world. For every chance he wasted, I would use a forensic tool on her, permanently disfiguring her. The world watched, horrified, as I stapled her arm, then cauterized it, drawing thin red lines on her skin with a scalpel. My former mentor, Dr. Hooper, and my son's girlfriend, Alexandra, were brought in to convince me, to paint my son as depressed, to present a fabricated suicide note. For a moment, I wavered, the pain of being a "bad mother" crushing me. But then I saw it—a hidden message in his "suicide note," a secret code from his favorite childhood book. He wasn't giving up; he was crying for help. They had twisted his plea into a lie. My grief burned away, replaced by an unbreakable resolve. "I do not accept this note," I declared, pressing the cauterizing pen to Dallas's leg as the FBI swarmed in./1/104078/coverorgin.jpg?v=aa0788b368a55289d96a84b623509990&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Discarded Bride's New Beginning
After eight years together, I thought Floyd was my future. But when a wooden frame collapsed at the lake, he ran right past me to help another woman. He didn't even glance at my shattered arm. "Wait a minute, Katerina!" he yelled, scooping her into his arms and sprinting away. His betrayal only got worse. He moved her into our home, into the nursery we had planned for our child. He even forced me to help her try on my wedding dress. When a display rack collapsed and gashed my head open, he left me bleeding on the floor to rush her to the hospital. He didn't just break my arm or my head; he shattered the eight years of love I had given him. He proved I was nothing more than a disposable inconvenience. Waking up alone in a hospital bed, I finally understood. I checked myself out, packed a single bag, and bought a one-way ticket to a new life./0/85909/coverorgin.jpg?v=1ef8ee078e2dac0817014c7e5510d22e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The $3 Million Escape
For fifteen years, my wife Sarah' s complaints were the soundtrack of my life. "Eight thousand dollars," she' d whine, always about the paltry dowry my mother gave us. It was a constant, low-level hum, punctuated by her rants about her cousin Jessica' s lavish gifts and exotic vacations. Tonight, after a call with Jessica, it escalated. "Hawaii again," she fumed, eyes burning with a strange, calculating fire. Then, the unthinkable: "What if we get divorced?" A fake divorce, she clarified, a scheme to extort money from my mother. She envisioned millions, and my mother' s precious jewelry. I stared at her, stunned by the audacity, the naked greed. My phone buzzed. A text from my boss: `$3 million bonus. Wire transfer tomorrow.` A strange calm washed over me. The words silenced Sarah' s relentless complaining, the past fifteen years of bitterness. I looked at her, truly looked at her, and a plan of my own began to form. This wasn' t just about the money anymore. It was about quiet, about peace, about freedom. "Okay," I said, my voice steady, surprising even myself. "Let' s do it." Her triumphant grin missed the cold resolve settling deep in my gut. This wasn' t her fake divorce. It was my real one./1/107972/coverorgin.jpg?v=376380cf88ce03fcee31100b02317766&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Forgive the Knife, Not the Lie
Natalie Harrington never expected that less than a year after remarrying, Adrian Brown would cheat on her again. As the design director of Brown Group, she had worked late into the night once again. When she returned home, she saw the servants standing in a row at the foot of the stairs, blocking the way. The moment they spotted her, their faces turned deathly ashen. "Mrs. Brown... why are you back? Didn't Mr. Brown say you'd be working through the night and wouldn't be coming home? I... I'll go upstairs and ask him to come down." As the servant turned and went upstairs, Natalie heard the sounds coming from above. "Ah... that feels so good! Adrian, slow down, I can't take it..." "Go on. Louder. Natalie isn't home anyway. You can scream all you want." "You're so bad... ah!" Seeing Natalie's expressionless face, the servant asked nervously, "Mrs. Brown, I'll go tell Mr. Brown right away that you're back." "No need." Natalie turned and walked toward the dining room, her voice calm. "I'm hungry. Prepare a late-night meal for me." The servants were utterly shocked, not expecting her to remain so composed, unaware that she had already decided to divorce./0/82665/coverorgin.jpg?v=1402ae44c0524538430a9019578667b0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Betrayed Fiancée's Triumph
My brother David's St. Florian's medallion, a cool silver comfort against my palm, was my anchor, a constant reminder of the hero I'd lost three years ago in the city blaze. His best friend, Mark, became my fiancé, a bond everyone insisted David would have blessed, yet his growing neglect felt like a deepening shadow. On David's death anniversary, Mark, unapologetically distant, sent his brazen new girlfriend, Jessica, not just to fetch keys, but to gloat, turning Mark's dismissive neglect of my pain into a sneer about my "sensitivity." The humiliation deepened when Jessica 'accidentally' destroyed David's cherished firefighter helmet and a precious childhood figurine, Mark instantly defending her, dismissing my brother's legacy as "just an old thing" while showering Jessica with affection. He then brazenly paraded his affair, actively portraying me to others as "difficult" and claiming my heartbreak was a "small price to pay" for his newfound happiness with Jessica. How could the man who promised to honor David' s memory, David' s own best friend, allow such desecration, gaslighting my grief and trampling on sacred bonds with such callous disregard? The white-hot rage, a purifying fire, ignited an unwavering resolve; David's medallion, once a symbol of loss, became the silent marker of my audacious, meticulously planned escape. They had no idea the heartbroken woman they casually broke was about to orchestrate their spectacular public unraveling, cementing her own dramatic rebirth into freedom./0/86234/coverorgin.jpg?v=7bd4c8e250fbd27ddb688d4bf35eab48&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Wife's Deadly Secret
The emergency alert from my son Leo' s smartwatch vibrated against my wrist-SOS. I found him face down in the pool, still. My wife, Jessica, stood by the edge, phone in hand, a glass of wine beside her, looking utterly bored. "He' s just faking it again, Liam. He' s trying to get attention," she said, as I pulled Leo' s limp body from the water. My world shattered, and with it, a dam of forgotten memories broke. My name isn' t Liam Hayes; it' s Noah Miller. I' d been in an accident, given amnesia, and then reshaped through countless surgeries into Liam' s spitting image-Jessica' s dead fiancé. I had been nothing more than a replacement, a puppet in a life that wasn' t mine. To find out Liam wasn't even dead, that he was sleeping with my wife right under my nose? It was unbearable. Leo knew. He knew Liam wasn't his father. That's why he fell in the pool. He didn' t fall, he sacrificed himself to expose the truth. Jessica knew he was terrified of water. And she let him drown, to punish him for revealing her carefully constructed lie. While my son lay dying, Jessica and Liam were celebrating their anniversary, taking smiling photos for the social pages. The grief was suffocating, but a cold, hard rage solidified in my chest. I cradled my son' s lifeless body, pulling out my phone. My fingers trembled as I scrolled past Jessica' s name and stopped at Evelyn Reed, her mother. When she answered, I said, "Evelyn, this is Noah Miller. I remember everything. Leo is dead. And it' s time for me to leave." The party was over, and my vengeance was just beginning./0/80394/coverorgin.jpg?v=1c9e1253065438c6a49ce9e702a84aa3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Best Friend's Ex, My Career's End
My NFL dream was within reach. I’d just led my team to a State Championship, and a scout from the Dallas Cowboys wanted to meet me. Life felt perfect. Then Sophia called. Not to congratulate me, but to demand I attend her ex-fiancé, Lucas Sterling’s, "recovery party." He, a supposedly paralyzed race car driver, apparently needed my emotional support. I missed the crucial Cowboys meeting. At that lavish party, Lucas, always the victim, publicly humiliated me, forcing a humiliating apology. He then "accidentally" ruined my championship jacket, a cherished symbol of years of dedication. Sophia just brushed it off, offering expensive gifts as "compensation." I began logging every sacrifice, every forced compliance, in a personal ledger—a "debt" I owed Sophia for her family's help with my mother's experimental treatment. Each "gift" was just another painful tally of what I’d lost, from my father's treasured football to my dignity. Was my life just currency for them? When the Jacksonville Jaguars offered a tryout, a second chance, Lucas orchestrated a horrific car crash, ending my career with a shattered arm. Sophia, fully aware, prioritized his theatrical injury, leaving me bleeding and broken. The 99th debt was paid, but I was done. I disappeared, leaving behind a life that had cost me everything./1/104079/coverorgin.jpg?v=d7c055938bf0c037e1c1575787f1d850&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Abandoned Bride's Ruthless Comeback
For the seventh time, I stood at the altar, pregnant with his child, waiting to marry Justice Keith. And for the seventh time, he abandoned me. His phone rang, and just like that, he was gone-rushing to the side of his "fragile" stepsister, Kamala, who was supposedly having another panic attack. He pushed me aside in front of everyone, his family sneering that a "new-money girl" like me would never understand their loyalty. This was the man who baked her special cakes in the middle of the night while ignoring my own hunger, the man who had left me at seventeen other almost-weddings and rehearsals. But this time, as I stood there in my wedding dress, the humiliation was a physical weight. I was tired of being his second choice, the understanding fiancée he always came back to with empty promises. So I walked out. I cancelled the wedding, shattered his family's priceless heirloom, and secretly terminated the pregnancy that tied me to him. I wasn't just leaving anymore. I was going to spend the next seven years meticulously planning how to burn his entire corrupt, old-money empire to the ground./0/86559/coverorgin.jpg?v=344e7464095e9553322c8d772384eab0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Scorned Wife, Sudden Fortune
The world came back to me in fragments of pain, the profound exhaustion of thirty-six hours of labor. They saved me, saved my daughter, and I expected relief. Instead, I heard my husband, Ethan, from the hall, his voice light, conversational, almost cheerful. "She' s completely torn apart down there… it' s disgusting. Like a war zone." My breath caught. "And her stomach," he whispered, "It' s all loose and flabby, covered in these weird purple lines. She looks like a deflated balloon. I swear, I don' t think I can ever touch her again." My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a painful thud of realization. This was the man who had held my hand, told me I was brave. Then the other voice, "What about the kid?" A flicker of desperate hope ignited. He wanted a daughter so badly. "It' s a girl," Ethan said, his voice flat. "Lily. Cries all the time. Just another thing to deal with." The hope died. Then his tone shifted, charming, for a phone call. "I know, I wish you were here instead. I can' t wait to see you." A mistress. The late nights, the secretive calls, the growing distance I' d blamed on pregnancy stress-it all clicked into place. Tears, hot and silent, streamed from my eyes. Not sadness, but rage and a grief so profound it felt like a physical wound. He wasn' t just shallow, he was cruel. Not just a bad husband, but a monster. In that sterile, blood-scented room, I mourned my marriage, the man I thought I knew. A cold, hard decision settled in my soul, listening to him coo at his lover. My daughter would not have a father like him. I would raise her alone. This wasn' t the end of my pain, but it was the beginning of my fight./1/114462/coverorgin.jpg?v=150de2d989144632b0522ab5643fcedf&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Awakening: His World Falls Apart
My husband Hudson had kept me a medicated ghost for three years, convinced I was unstable. But a cheap pink hair clip, tangled with golden blonde hair in his car, ripped through the chemical haze. The bitter pill he forced me to take wouldn't numb the burning truth, only fuel my awakening. I was an architect once, but now I was just Cora, a docile wife trapped in his suffocating world. When he saw my shock, his concern was sickeningly sweet as he offered another Xanax. I pretended to swallow the poison, letting it dissolve under my tongue, a constant reminder of my awakening. Back at the mansion, his massive car deliberately blocked mine, a crude barricade confirming his control. Then, a message from an old intern confirmed my darkest fears: this was domestic abuse. He urged me to check Hudson’s closet, to record everything. I knew then I was living with a dangerous monster, and my denial shattered. The anger burned, fueled by the bitter taste of that undissolved pill. That night, Hudson walked in, wearing a hideous, sloppily tied red polka-dot tie. It was a clear, undeniable sign of another woman. My architect’s mind was awake, cold and calculating. "Game on, Hudson." I would make him taste this bitterness back a thousand times./0/86235/coverorgin.jpg?v=23f42515b0223a058b48a294023ace10&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Wife They Cast Aside
For ten years, I lived a life that wasn' t mine, sacrificing my scientific dreams to become the perfect wife and mother. My carefully built world shattered when I overheard my husband, Mark, tell our ten-year-old daughter Mia, that her real mother, my sister Sophia, was finally coming back. He then twisted a venomous lie, blaming me for Sophia' s decade-long absence, claiming I was jealous and drove her away. Mia' s face twisted in fury, her blue eyes, once filled with love, now burned with hatred as she screamed, "You're a monster! I hate you!" Before I could react, she lunged and shoved me down the grand staircase, leaving me crumpled and bleeding on the marble, physically and emotionally broken. My parents, witnessing my prostrate form and Mia' s crocodile tears, immediately sided with their 'precious' granddaughter, my mother slapping me and my father lecturing me on duty. They saw me not as a daughter, but as a business asset, a pawn to save their shaky social standing and financial future. How could the people who were supposed to love me unconditionally abandon me so easily, believing such a blatant lie? Why did my years of selfless devotion to a child and a family that wasn't truly mine only lead to such profound betrayal? Lying there, bleeding and discarded, a chilling clarity pierced through the agony: My life as Olivia Reynolds, the aspiring scientist, was violently reclaimed. I would divorce my indifferent husband, leave my ungrateful family, and reclaim the life stolen from me a decade ago./0/81693/coverorgin.jpg?v=4eb849e34c4938ead209d920af45cba1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
