Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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His Coma Bride, His True Escape
Ethan Hayes thought his life was a gilded cage, trapped between his tyrannical father and his ruthless half-brother, Liam. His last hope for freedom was an arranged marriage to a comatose heiress in Boston, a deal he accepted in exchange for a fortune and the quiet support of his stoic bodyguard, Sarah Bell. But that fragile sense of acceptance shattered when he overheard Sarah's late-night call, revealing her true identity as Seraphina Vance, a billionaire heiress, and her chilling confession: she was infatuated with Liam, seeing Ethan as nothing more than a "means to an end." The woman he' d secretly loved had been deceiving him, her every act of professional care a calculated move to get closer to Liam. Her obsession led her to public acts of devotion towards his tormentor brother, culminating in orchestrating a brutal dog attack on Ethan and later a violent beating by thugs, all while prioritizing Liam and dismissing Ethan's suffering. How could the quiet, seemingly caring Sarah be this ruthless heiress, so utterly blind to Liam' s cruelty? The betrayal gnawed at Ethan, leaving him drowning in a bitter cocktail of humiliation, anger, and profound confusion. Was his entire life just a stage for their twisted games? Then, Liam's drunken boasts exposed the horrific truth: his mother's death and Ethan's ruined scholarship were his brother's calculated acts. With nothing left to lose and everything to escape, Ethan decided his arranged marriage was no longer just a transaction, but his only path to true freedom from a family intent on destroying him, even if it meant abandoning everything he knew./0/82883/coverorgin.jpg?v=28135e028bbfba6187398b78f41e471b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Wife Who Came Back To Kill
My life as Evelyn Reed, the quiet wife to the ambitious Senator Harrison Bishop III, was finally complete - I was pregnant, a joyful secret I' d just shared with my husband. But Victoria, my beautiful, cruel stepsister, offered me a "special herbal tea" for the baby. Soon, searing pain tore through me, a fire in my belly that turned to a spreading, deadly cold. My hands clutched my stomach, trying to protect the tiny life, our baby. It was useless. Victoria stood over me, her smile a crimson slash, while Harry, my own husband, remained a silent shadow behind her. "You were always just a placeholder, you and that little mistake," Victoria whispered, her voice the last sound before darkness swallowed me whole. I died, betrayed by the man I loved and the sister I trusted, my unborn child ripped from me. The injustice burned hotter than the fire in my belly, leaving behind a cold, endless void. Then I gasped, eyes snapping open to blinding sunlight. I was in my doctor's office. "You' re about six weeks along. Congratulations, Evelyn." I was back. Back to the very day it all began, their treachery branded onto my soul. This time, I knew their game. And this time, they would pay – a debt of vengeance as cold and sharp as broken glass./0/87889/coverorgin.jpg?v=df1bb5a8ecfc7eae90b54a901188d379&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Ex-Wife’s Grand Return
My husband, Brady, was supposed to be the love of my life, the man who promised to protect me forever. Instead, he was the one who hurt me the most. He forced me to sign divorce papers, accusing me of corporate espionage and sabotaging company projects, all while his first love, Hettie, who was supposedly dead, reappeared, pregnant with his child. My family was gone, my mother disowned me, and my father died while I was working late, a choice I'd regret forever. I was dying, suffering from late-stage cancer, and he didn't even know, or care. He was too busy with Hettie, who was allergic to the flowers I tended for him, the ones he loved because Hettie loved them. He accused me of having an affair with my adoptive brother, Callum, who was also my doctor, the only person who truly cared for me. He called me disgusting, a skeleton, and told me no one loved me. I was terrified that if I fought back, I would lose even the right to hear his voice on the phone. I was so weak, so pathetic. But I wouldn't let him win. I signed the divorce papers, giving him Simon Corp, the company he always wanted to destroy. I faked my death, hoping he would finally be happy. But I was wrong. Three years later, I returned as Aurora Morgan, a powerful woman with a new identity, ready to make him pay for everything he had done./1/114014/coverorgin.jpg?v=56fd3f0f87e05642f0cbfe1861db2795&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Late, Mr. Ex: I'm Free
Today is my fifth wedding anniversary. It's also the day my husband, Ethan, asked me for a divorce for the 38th time. He does this for Ilene, his childhood friend. The woman who crashed her car on our wedding day, leaving her unable to have children. Ever since, he's been repaying a debt of guilt, and I've been the price. For five years, I endured the cycle of divorce and remarriage. But this time was different. Ilene pushed me down a flight of stairs. Ethan found me bleeding and promised me justice. He swore he would make her pay. But days later, the police called. The security footage of the incident had been mysteriously erased. There was no evidence, no case. That night, Ilene had me kidnapped. As her men tore at my clothes in the back of a van, I managed to call Ethan. He rejected my call. I jumped from the moving van. And as I ran for my life, bleeding on the cold asphalt, I made a vow. This time, there would be no 39th remarriage. This time, I would disappear./0/88515/coverorgin.jpg?v=6fced6e191f0ead84a04c1618ef47182&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Ex's Ruthless Revenge
My company, Innovate, was my life' s work, built from the ground up with my boyfriend, Caleb, over ten years. We were college sweethearts, a golden couple, and our biggest deal, a $50 million contract with Apex Ventures, was finally closing. Then, a sudden wave of nausea hit me, and I fainted, only to wake up in a hospital. When I returned to the office, my keycard was denied, my access revoked, and my photo, defaced with an "X," was in the trash. Krystal Schroeder, a young intern Caleb had hired, was sitting at my desk, acting like the new Chief of Operations. She announced loudly that "non-essential personnel" were to stay clear, looking directly at me. Caleb, the man who had promised me the world, stood by, his face cold and indifferent. He dismissed my pregnancy, calling it a distraction, and put me on mandatory leave. I saw a tube of Krystal' s bright red lipstick on Caleb' s desk, the same shade I' d seen on his collar. The pieces clicked: the late nights, the "business dinners," his sudden obsession with his phone-it was all a lie. They had been planning this for months. The man I loved was gone, replaced by a stranger. But I wouldn' t let them take everything. I told Caleb I was leaving, but not without my full share of the company, valued at the post-Apex funding price. I also reminded him that the core algorithm, the one Apex was investing in, was patented in my name alone. I walked out, pulling out my phone to call the one person I never thought I would: Easton Jensen, my fiercest rival./0/81632/coverorgin.jpg?v=54b66b76a100e97a04e69ab2d2bb2b24&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Disowned Heir: A Path to Vengeance
My adoptive family always treated me as their golden child, until I stumbled into a dusty storage room at Grandfather Harrison's 90th birthday celebration. There, I found it: my deceased sister Chloe' s SAT score report, showing near-perfect scores that shattered everything our wealthy New England family had ever told me about her "instability." I innocently showed it to my father, expecting pride or explanation. Instead, his face turned a mottled red, my mother's teacup rattled, and Grandfather dramatically collapsed right before my eyes. Within hours, I was disowned, my entire life-my job, my funds, my home-ripped away, leaving me bewildered and clutching the damning piece of paper. The family called me "disrespectful," my uncle called me "ungrateful," and my own mother, without a flicker of warmth, commanded security to "pack Mr. Ethan' s bags immediately." I was thrown out, abandoned, and even brutally assaulted by my father and uncles when I tried to visit my "dying" grandfather in the hospital. Why? Why would a dead girl's academic scores trigger such a violent, absolute betrayal from the people who raised me? My memories of Chloe, fragmented and disturbing, hint at a darker truth. Then, my mother's voice, strained and chilling, revealed the real reason for my grandfather's "stroke": "He was already gone, Ethan. Two weeks ago. It was all a lie." A cold certainty settled in my gut: Chloe's death, my family's obsession with secrecy, and my sudden banishment are all connected to a truth too monstrous to contain. And I, the discarded son, will unearth every single buried secret at my grandfather's sham funeral./0/84135/coverorgin.jpg?v=6613b7473e1b6a7420312d6a57a69b3e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Alibi of Justice
The stale smell of forgotten dreams filled the New York yellow cab as rain blurred the city outside, a scene hauntingly familiar. In my last life, this exact ride took me straight to the Pulitzer jury, to the beginning of my catastrophic downfall. My own daughter, Gabrielle, systematically dismantled my life, using my name and reputation to peddle fake insider trading tips to desperate writers. When her scheme inevitably imploded, she seamlessly shifted blame onto me, painting me as a corrupt public figure, a "whistleblower" feeding lies to the hungry online mob. I lost everything: my esteemed career, my freedom, and ultimately, my life, succumbing to a stress-induced heart attack in a lonely apartment, hounded by strangers and forever disgraced. The betrayal was a cold, bitter knot in my stomach-how could the child I raised inflict such immense pain and ruin? But then, a jolt: I was back in this taxi, on this very day, with the chilling clarity of a second chance. This time, this ride wouldn't lead to my destruction; it would be the first step in my meticulous plan to save myself and dismantle her cruel charade./0/86638/coverorgin.jpg?v=545f0ffe2ce0146ef6e637b915775942&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Wife They Left Behind
For twenty years, I, Sarah Miller, was the devoted wife, mother, and household manager, blindly enduring a marriage crumbling from unspoken resentments. Then, my husband, Mark, casually tossed out my expensive, medical-grade skincare to make room for his golf shoes, while my daughter, Emily, dismissed my distress with a sneer. That day, the dam holding back two decades of swallowed words burst, and I declared, "I want a divorce." They dismissed it as a "dramatic episode," then deliberately excluded me from their first-class seats on a celebratory trip I' d paid for-leaving me to sit alone in economy like a forgotten piece of luggage. My attempt to confront them only led to Mark threatening to have me removed by a flight attendant, followed by my mother-in-law, Brenda' s, veiled venom and physical assault, a constant reminder of their calculated cruelty. The final straw came when, after a seafood dinner they ordered despite my life-threatening allergy, Mark froze my credit card, leaving me stranded and penniless in a foreign country. How could these people, my own family, treat me with such utter contempt and disregard? In that moment of absolute abandonment, a cold fury solidified: I would not beg, I would not yield, and I would not be their victim any longer./0/80537/coverorgin.jpg?v=d705418b3a656d73f1c6191298c00ad1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Placeholder Who Became Queen
Tonight, I, Emily, stood proudly at Ivy Glen Winery’s Annual Harvest Gala. My new Cabernet was launching, the culmination of three years transforming my in-laws' struggling vineyard into a national name as its CEO. Then my husband Kevin walked in, arm-in-arm with Jessica, his visibly pregnant college ex, and snatched the microphone. He slurred, branding me a "placeholder" and firing me, both as CEO and his wife, proclaiming Jessica’s child the "real" Parker heir. A hush fell, then whispers. The crowd, quick to condemn, watched as he offered a measly hundred thousand dollars for my years of effort. Jessica preened, boasting about being the "rightful" Mrs. Parker, reminding everyone I had no formal employment contract. Everything I built seemed to crumble. How could he? After everything I poured into this place, into *us*? To be so casually discarded, so utterly humiliated in front of everyone, felt like a cruel joke. Was I truly just a temporary convenience, a "nobody" without him, as he sneered? With a steady hand, I signed the brutal divorce papers, intending to walk away with nothing but the clothes on my back. But just then, my in-laws, Richard and Susan, stepped forward, and the true bombshell dropped: "Emily is our daughter. Our true blood. The rightful heir to Ivy Glen."/0/80850/coverorgin.jpg?v=d4ae71a59bf37866e838c7f4b9e91beb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Eighteen-Year Lie
For eighteen years, I’ve been told a lie. My husband, Mark, my doctors, even my own parents, convinced me I suffered from a delusional disorder, that my deep ache for a daughter named Emily was just a symptom. They said I only had one child, my sweet son Ethan. Yet, I always felt a part of me was missing. Then, on Ethan’s wedding day, a tarnished silver locket tumbled out from under my bed – the very one I gave my daughter, Emily, for her fifth birthday, the day she vanished. The fog of medication burned away, replaced by searing clarity. Emily was real. Mark had lied. I stormed into the wedding reception, publicly accusing him of murder, of burying Emily under our oak tree. But instead of finding justice, I was dragged away by the police, deemed delusional, and forcibly committed to a psychiatric facility. There, Mark and my parents finally ‘confessed’ a horrifying truth: Emily died in a car crash I caused, and her memory was erased from my mind to ‘protect’ me. Wracked with grief and guilt, I visited Emily’s supposed grave. But how could a daughter I’d barely remembered, who allegedly died eighteen years ago, still whisper ‘Save me’ in my dreams? And why did her headstone, beneath an ancient oak, look… disturbingly new? My bare hands clawed through the earth until they struck wood. The small casket, still pristine. Not decaying, not old. And utterly, horrifyingly empty. Emily isn't dead. My daughter is alive, and Mark, my husband, is a monster. The fight for Emily has just begun./1/104472/coverorgin.jpg?v=3616bd70d6c998e7c91c41c2abdae123&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Runaway Wife: Never Forgiving You
My husband, the Mad Prince of the underworld, once burned down a city block just because a rival looked at me wrong. Now, he forces me to kneel in the freezing New York snow, clad only in thin silk. In his hand, he holds a tablet controlling my comatose brother's life support, threatening to kill him unless I confess to bullying his new mistress. To save my brother, I swallow my pride and confess to a crime I didn't commit. But the stress is too much. I miscarry our child right there, staining the pristine white snow crimson. Dante doesn't even blink. He steps over my bleeding body to comfort his crying mistress, leaving me to scream for our lost baby alone. He thinks he taught me a lesson. He forces me to apologize to the woman who mocked me, even as my stitches tear. He doesn't know that while he was guarding the door to keep doctors out, my brother actually died. He doesn't know I buried the only family I had left in a pauper's grave while he slept with the woman who framed me. On our tenth anniversary, he fills the house with lilies, expecting reconciliation. Instead, I leave the signed divorce papers on the bed, take a handful of grave soil, and vanish into the night. By the time he realizes the truth, I will be a ghost he can never touch again./1/105724/coverorgin.jpg?v=a4d01dc4d8f21e572d6e1f53dfe2ae6a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Love Was Gone
My husband, Rodger Hayes, was a renowned chief negotiator, famous for his integrity and firmness within the circle. When my son and I were kidnapped, with three hostages at the scene, the kidnappers agreed to release only one. Among the women and the boy, Rodger should have chosen to save the boy first. Yet, I heard him saying in Spanish fluently, "Release the woman in white." His first love, Jolene Chapman, was freed, while my son, Jacob Hayes, died from a gunfire. Later, Rodger explained the situation flatly. "The kidnappers chose to release Jolene." I cradled Jacob's ashes and smiled sadly. Rodger didn't know that I was fluent in Spanish, as I had been a special forces member. His lies crumbled before me. My phone vibrated, and I confirmed the encrypted message. "Falcon returns to base."/0/86639/coverorgin.jpg?v=ef5cc72b08781db3fa07eec15496db5a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn: A Husband's Vengeful Love
The last thing I remembered was the freezing cold of a lonely alley, the bitter taste of cheap whiskey, and the image of a newspaper: a glossy photo of my ex-wife, Sarah, and her new husband, Mark Thompson, cradling their perfect baby. My final breath fogged in the winter air as I died with the brutal truth ringing in my mind. I had failed them-my son, Leo, and my mother, Susan, both lying in fresh graves, victims of Sarah' s abandonment and my naive loyalty. For four years, I toiled, clinging to her empty promises, while they withered away from neglect and poverty in our crumbling home. I' d even sold a kidney to save them, but the money came too late; my mother starved, and Leo succumbed to a preventable fever. At their funeral, Sarah returned not to mourn, but to accuse, to divorce, and to flaunt her new life with Mark-a life built on our ruins. Then, a sharp, ragged gasp tore through me. I wasn' t in an alley, but on the cold, splintered floorboards of my own bedroom, the air thick with the scent of sickness. My heart hammered as I saw them: my mother, Susan, frail but breathing, and Leo, flushed with fever but alive, nestled in his crib. A quick glance at the calendar confirmed it: three days before their deaths. The raw grief, fused with a cold, hard rage, ignited a fire in my gut. No more silence. No more waiting. "Mom," I declared, my voice steady, "We' re leaving. We' re going to find Sarah." I had a second chance, and this time, I wouldn' t just survive; I would make them pay./1/114485/coverorgin.jpg?v=8f67c877f897f335540c355d85bedba8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Truth He Never Knew
Corinna moved through a high-society gala, a powerful woman now commanding respect. Three years ago, the influential Rios family had cast her aside, viewing her as a liability. Now, after countless battles in a D.C. think tank, she wielded her newfound power with precision. As her armored SUV navigated rain-slicked Manhattan, a convoy of black Navigators abruptly cut it off. Graham Rios, the man who’d abandoned her, emerged from the storm like a madman, his political mask gone. He marched toward her car, screaming her name against the thunder. Corinna remained still, coolly sipping wine. She lowered her window just two inches, then slid a folder through, its sharp edge slicing his hand. The document revealed his business project was now controlled by his fiercest enemy, Lucian Lu. Later, she subtly revealed a brutal scar on her wrist, a wound Graham frantically tried to understand. The scar haunted Graham. Driven by panic, he forced his aide to confess a secret detour from three years ago: Corinna had visited a private maternity hospital. The revelation sent a high-pitched ringing through his ears, as he struggled to comprehend her visit. Consumed by guilt, Graham hacked the hospital's old files, finding a heavily encrypted medical record under Corinna's name. It stated: "Gestation: 12 weeks. Fetal heartbeat: critically weak. Recommendation: Immediate termination of pregnancy." The words crushed him. Corinna, watching him fall into her trap, knew he had swallowed the exact "truth" she needed./0/82259/coverorgin.jpg?v=e4caa42e4051b89495c0abdeff2ac6d4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Quiet Assistant's Roar
For five years, I played a part. I was Ava, the quiet admin assistant. I lived in a Brooklyn walk-up, deeply in love with my charming boyfriend, Ethan Hayes. Our life together felt so real, so perfectly normal. Then, one night, I overheard him. He called me a "minor asset to be divested." A low-risk, low-yield stock, ready to be cut loose. It was for his upcoming merger with Chloe Parker. He was getting married, and I was just his secret. His 'simple' comfort to manage. The crushing blow wasn't just his words, but his fiancé Chloe' s endless DMs. She taunted me with pictures of their engagement ring and private jet "strategy sessions." My heart shattered. Then, during a car crash, his first instinct solidified everything. He shielded an absent Chloe, not the bleeding me beside him. He chose his lie over my life. How could the man who swore he loved me now see me as a disposable asset? Worth less than a lie? How could I have so completely misjudged him? The indignity and calculated cruelty burned through my veins. They thought I was simple. They thought I was weak. But they were about to find out how wrong they were. I returned home, not to a Brooklyn walk-up. I returned to AuraSphere. The multi-billion dollar private equity firm my family owns. And I was coming for them./0/94774/coverorgin.jpg?v=c059b9ec2838ee86440266b92a695927&imageMogr2/format/webp)
CASH FOR FUN
When survival meets spectacle, how far would you go for cash? Ama, 22, is broke, exhausted, and drowning under her mother's hospital bills. Two dead-end jobs can't save her family until a late-night discovery changes everything. Cash for Fun, an app where your life becomes entertainment for strangers, promises quick money for daring challenges. At first, it feels harmless dancing in the rain, kissing a stranger, pranking her boss. The cash floods in, the followers multiply, and Ama tastes a lifestyle she never dreamed possible. But the higher she climbs, the darker the game gets. Her best friend turns into collateral damage. Her cousin's recklessness spirals into disaster. A cocky influencer lures her into a staged romance, and a mysterious benefactor known only as Mr. X demands secrets she swore she'd never reveal. Soon, Ama isn't just playing for money she's gambling her reputation, her relationships, and her soul. As betrayals mount and the app's grip tightens, she's forced to ask herself the question no one streaming dares to face: Is the fun worth the cost? Cash for Fun is a raw, addictive tale of fame, betrayal, and survival in the age of viral entertainment. Sharp, dramatic, and unflinchingly real, it pulls readers into a world where every click has a price, and the biggest payout may be losing everything./1/102283/coverorgin.jpg?v=cf3ed36c886277803c9e0077ae6f06f8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Broken Vows, Unbreakable Spirit Emerges
On my seventh wedding anniversary, my husband, Camden, publicly announced his affair with his much younger personal trainer, Kai. The video went viral before I even woke up. But the real betrayal wasn't the affair. It was the sudden, horrifying realization that two years ago, he forced me to terminate our long-awaited pregnancy because it was "bad timing" for his new relationship with Kai. He and Kai humiliated me in my own home, shattering the glass sculpture I'd spent months creating for our anniversary. "It's just glass," Kai sneered. "Easily replaceable." Camden then tossed the broken pieces into the trash, along with the last of my love for him. Years of swallowing his betrayals, of enduring his cruelty, finally came to an end. The woman who once crumbled at his feet was gone, replaced by a cold, profound emptiness. I watched him stand there, smug and triumphant with his new lover, completely oblivious to the storm he had unleashed. He thought he had broken me, but he had only forged me into something new, something unbreakable. "Fine," I said, my voice a calm whisper that cut through his arrogance. "Divorce me." This wasn't just the end of a marriage. It was the beginning of his ruin./0/83667/coverorgin.jpg?v=dd34df5d827f72a0e091d2d7f4303ac6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Scarlett's Shadow: A Broken Man's Redemption
The wedding ring was still cold on my finger when Scarlett, my brand new wife, tossed her phone on the bed. Our Hawaii honeymoon? Canceled. A "business opportunity" came up, she said, already pulling out a sleek black dress. Just a few hours after saying "I do," my world was already shrinking to fit hers. Then came the real unraveling. Left behind in a chaotic foreign riot by the very woman I married and her trusted assistant, I survived hell. I was beaten, starved, and left for dead. When I finally crawled back home, battered and scarred, Scarlett didn't offer comfort – she threw stale pretzels at me and watched with disgust as I ate them off the floor like an animal. Later, she even shoved me down a flight of stairs, leaving me with a ruptured spleen. My life, my love, my very existence was just an inconvenient asset to her. How could the woman I' d loved my entire life treat me like garbage, or worse, a public relations problem? Why was I always the one left broken while she walked away clean? But when her assistant, Dylan, showed up to gloat about orchestrating my near-death experience, confessing every twisted detail of his plan to get rid of me right in front of Scarlett, everything changed. He thought he had manipulated them both, but he made one fatal mistake. Scarlett had finally learned, the hard way, who the real villain was. And now, it was her turn to decide who she was./0/85388/coverorgin.jpg?v=c2f667078d22a7fe68f237c649da88cb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Love's Ashes, Vengeance's Spark
My life as a celebrated chef was perfectly seasoned: a Michelin-starred restaurant, a demanding but respected father, and a beautiful fiancée, Chloe, who promised an empire. Then, one catastrophic night, I found Chloe, my love, in a passionate embrace with Liam, my supposed business partner, amidst the dry storage of my father' s restaurant. Rage, blinding and raw, consumed me. A fight erupted, sacks of flour burst, and cooking oil slicked the floor, transforming our kitchen into a powder keg. My ailing father, drawn by the chaos, collapsed, his eyes filled with disappointment, not at the scene, but at me. Chloe seized the moment, twisting the narrative: "He' s lost it, Dad! He' s going to destroy everything!" Liam, at Chloe's silent command, ignited a kitchen torch and tossed it into the spilled oil and flour. The world exploded in flames as Chloe dragged Liam away, screaming, "Ethan did this! He tried to kill us all!" I was left trapped in a roaring inferno with my dying father, his last breath a whisper against my hand. At the hospital, framed as the jealous arsonist, I learned my father died of a heart attack, not the fire. Chloe, pristine and emotionless, pressured me to donate skin grafts to Liam, the man who set the fire, repeatedly. I overheard her cold calculations: my "tragedy" was a marketing opportunity, and my subsequent injuries meant "no messy heirs to complicate the inheritance." They wanted everything, including my very essence, leaving me an empty shell. Liam, with a cruel smirk, taunted me, "Chloe' s with a real man now. Someone who can give her what she wants." I finally saw it all: a calculated, systematic destruction, orchestrated by the woman I loved. The pain, once crippling, ignited a new purpose; this was not the end, but the beginning of a war./0/86327/coverorgin.jpg?v=be1c3e908f18abdd45af365dfceacfe4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
