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Modern Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
One Pregnancy, Three Secrets: He Begs for Remarriage

One Pregnancy, Three Secrets: He Begs for Remarriage

I signed the divorce papers to end my two-year loveless marriage to billionaire Julian Sinclair. Hours later, I found out I was pregnant-with triplets. Then my family's company was raided. Our assets were frozen. And I was violently kidnapped off the streets of Manhattan. For six months, I was locked in a damp underground clinic, chained to a cold metal bed. When labor came, there were no painkillers. No help. Just agony. I delivered three babies. But before I could even hold my sons, Julian's mistress, Kaila Walker, walked in with a smile. She reached past the doctor and took my strongest boy-my firstborn-right out of his hands. "He's my ticket to the Sinclair fortune," she said. "You were just the incubator." Then she locked the door and left me to bleed out in the dark with my two remaining children. I didn't understand the cruelty. Why destroy my family? Why steal my son? Why bury me alive just so she could take my place beside a man who had already thrown me away like garbage? But as I looked at my two fragile, sleeping babies in the dim light, my tears dried up. The despair turned to something colder. Sharper. A predator's rage. Five years later, I stepped off a private jet in New York-no longer the discarded wife. I reclaimed my family's pharmaceutical empire as CEO. I built an army in silence. And when I saw Julian and Kaila smiling on the financial news, I calmly turned off the screen. It was time to get my son back. And burn their perfect world to the ground.
Contract Marriage: The CEO's Silent Shield

Contract Marriage: The CEO's Silent Shield

Aunt Lydia told me that if I didn't secure the loan shark Mr. Jareth tonight, I’d be sleeping on the street. I stood outside the brass doors of the restaurant, my lungs refusing to expand, my hands shaking so violently that my gray wool skirt blurred in my vision. I was supposed to sell my soul to a monster to pay off my family’s debts. But when I sat down at Table 12, I didn't find a man in a leather jacket smelling of stale beer. Instead, I found a man in a bespoke suit who smelled of cedarwood and cold winter air, a man who looked at me like a specimen under a microscope. "Sit down," he commanded, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated in my chest. Before I could realize I was at the wrong table, he had already signaled the staff to throw the real loan shark out into the street. Then, he slid a blank black card across the table and offered me a deal: a marriage of convenience to satisfy his board of directors in exchange for my total protection. I signed the contract and moved into a penthouse he claimed belonged to his "boss," trying to play the part of the quiet, broken wife. But the lies were too loud to ignore. He called a half-million-dollar bottle of wine a "Costco blend" and claimed his $4 million Patek Philippe watch was a cheap replica. He thought he was protecting a helpless, mute girl, but he had no idea who I really was. I didn't understand why this "manager" had the police commissioner on speed dial or why he was tracking my every move with hidden cameras. While he was busy playing the savior, I was secretly logging onto the dark web as "The Surgeon," the only medical genius capable of treating the chronic, agonizing migraines he kept hidden from the world. The truth finally exploded when the loan shark cornered us at my aunt’s estate. As I held a corkscrew to a killer’s throat with surgical precision, I saw the mask slip from my husband’s face. I realized then that I hadn't just married a businessman—I had married the most dangerous man in New York, and he was currently wiring thousands of dollars to me to save his life.
Flash Marriage To The Secret Zillionaire

Flash Marriage To The Secret Zillionaire

Blaire's mother gave her a ruthless ultimatum: find a husband today, or never call her mother again. Desperate to escape the suffocating control and disastrous blind dates, Blaire agreed to a fake marriage with a stranger she met through an old woman. She thought she was marrying a dirt-poor salesman drowning in mortgage debt. They lived in a rundown Queens apartment and split the living expenses fifty-fifty. He drove a sputtering Toyota Camry, established extreme territorial rules, and treated her like a gold-digging biohazard. When she accidentally tripped and spilled hot soup on him, he didn't help her up, instead accusing her of using pathetic tricks to seduce him. Her own mother even crashed their apartment, ruthlessly mocking his pathetic financial state and calling him a total loser. Blaire endured his coldness and extreme germaphobia, genuinely pitying him for his stressful, low-paying job. She refunded his money and defended his dignity, refusing to take advantage of a struggling man. But she couldn't understand why this supposedly broke guy possessed such a lethal, commanding aura, or why an incredibly expensive cashmere blanket mysteriously appeared on her when she was freezing on the couch. Until her brother called with a shocking warning. "Blaire, the name on your marriage certificate belongs to the notoriously secretive billionaire CEO of New York's top financial syndicate!" Blaire laughed out loud, completely unaware that behind the bedroom door, her "broke" husband was frantically ordering his PR team to bury his true identity.
The Scumbag CEO's Secret Genius Wife

The Scumbag CEO's Secret Genius Wife

I was the internet's most feared vigilante, famous for exposing toxic men to millions of live viewers. With one click, I was supposed to take down a local scammer, but the screen glitched. Instead of a petty liar, the face of Kristopher Schaefer-the most powerful billionaire in New York-appeared on the broadcast, branded with a massive red stamp that read: SCUMBAG. The internet went into a frenzy as I called the city's richest man a "leech" who had no spine. Within minutes, my studio was breached and my network was hacked. I fled into the rain, only to be cornered by a fleet of black SUVs. The man I had just publicly humiliated stepped out of the shadows, his eyes burning with a terrifying, cold fury. He didn't just want an apology; he wanted me. Because legally, on a piece of paper buried in a safe three years ago, this "scumbag" was actually my husband. He dragged me back to his sprawling estate, stripping me of my secrets and forcing me into a life of luxury that felt more like a prison. He threatened to ruin me for the billions in stock value I'd wiped out, yet he refused to let me go. I didn't understand why he was protecting me from my own treacherous family or why he looked at me with such starving intensity. I was a forensic accountant who had just declared war on his empire, so why was he putting his mother's priceless emeralds around my neck? Was he trying to silence me, or was there a deeper game at play within his crumbling company? When he finally found the encrypted drive containing his company's darkest financial secrets, the deal changed. "Play the perfect wife," he commanded, pinning me against the wall. "Save my merger, and I might just forget you tried to destroy me." Now, I have to decide if I'm going to finish the takedown, or if I'm the only woman who can save the man I'm supposed to hate.
The True Heiress Returns: His Bitter Regret

The True Heiress Returns: His Bitter Regret

Ariel woke up in a hospital bed surrounded by five titans of Wall Street. She instantly realized she had transmigrated into the corporate warfare novel she read last night. She was the real daughter of the ruthless Washington family, a family destined to be completely destroyed. And the one who would cause their bankruptcy, imprisonment, and deaths was the crying, hypocritical adopted sister holding her hand—Cherilyn. Knowing the plot, Ariel was terrified. She watched Cherilyn hand her a glass of organic juice and internally screamed about how it was laced with neurotoxins. She expected the cold, calculating family to side with the fake daughter and throw Ariel into the Hudson River. To survive, Ariel planned to play dumb, steal a Picasso painting, and run away to Hawaii before the feds raided their estate. But things got weird. Instead of bullying her, her terrifying father ordered the poisoned juice destroyed. Her ruthless brothers started buying out Michelin-star restaurants for her lunch, dropping off diamond-encrusted pens in military helicopters, and mercilessly crushing anyone who dared to cross her. "Why are these doomed villains suddenly acting like invincible strategic geniuses?" Ariel thought, utterly baffled. She had no idea that her entire family could hear her inner thoughts. And the Wall Street wolves were using her mental spoilers to rewrite their tragic fate.
The Billionaire's Captive: Debt Of Love

The Billionaire's Captive: Debt Of Love

Ten years ago, a storm tore through Burke Manor and destroyed my life. I was just an eight-year-old orphan hiding in the shadows when a rotted balcony railing gave way, sending the heir to the Burke fortune plummeting to the pavement. Before the ambulance even arrived, the lie was set in stone. "She pushed him!" my rival screamed, and the world instantly branded me a murderer. I was hauled away in a police cruiser, losing everything. A decade later, I was an eighteen-year-old mechanic in Queens, covered in grease and struggling to keep my Nana Rose alive. But the past doesn't stay buried. Finn Burke returned in a black Maybach, looking like a predatory emperor. When Nana suffered a massive heart attack, the hospital demanded a deposit I couldn't pay, and Finn was there with a checkbook and a contract of "indebted servitude." He bought my grandmother's life and, in exchange, he bought me. He dragged me back to the manor, locked a titanium GPS shackle around my wrist, and forced me to be his personal caretaker. He wants me to manage his pain, to bathe him, and to look at his crippled legs every day as a reminder of the "sin" he says I committed. He calls me his property, a slave to a debt I can never repay. But while massaging his legs, I felt something impossible—muscle tone and reactive tension that shouldn't exist after ten years of paralysis. He thinks he’s broken me, but he’s forgotten one thing. I’m a mechanic; I know when someone is hiding what’s under the hood. Finn Burke is lying about his legs, and I’m going to find out why, even if I have to burn this manor down to get the truth.
The Billionaire Hunting His Ghost Wife

The Billionaire Hunting His Ghost Wife

For three years, I was trapped in a paper marriage to a billionaire I had never met, until my father forced me to finally visit his hotel suite. But when I walked in, I found my husband, Bryton Lott, heavily drugged by my own father. Stripped of all reason, Bryton violently pinned me down and took my innocence, making me a pawn in my father's sick scheme to force a pregnancy and save his bankrupt company. After escaping his feral grip, I overheard Bryton call my father. He called me a useless, invisible wife, vowing to hand me divorce papers the second he saw my face. The nightmare didn't end there. When I brought a priceless antique jade bracelet to my mother's birthday, she slapped me across the face in front of the entire elite crowd. My stepsister publicly accused me of selling my body. Hiding in the shadows, I even heard my mother admit she wished I was dead, only keeping me around to exploit my marriage. I had played the obedient, impoverished daughter for years, enduring their endless abuse just to protect my grandmother's legacy. Why did my own flesh and blood treat me like a sacrificial lamb to be sold and destroyed? The last thread holding my heart together completely snapped. I left the multi-million dollar bracelet on the cold stone sill and walked out into the freezing night. Snapping my everyday SIM card in half, I pulled out an encrypted satellite phone and activated my true identity as the underground world's top operative, "King." "Run a full hostile intelligence sweep on Apocalypse Corp."