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Modern Books for Women

Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
Reborn To Save My Coldhearted Billionaire Fiancé

Reborn To Save My Coldhearted Billionaire Fiancé

Chloe floated above her own casket, a silent ghost watching her opulent Hollywood funeral. But when the mourners left, her weeping best friend Sabrina wiped away her fake tears and smiled. "I finally won," Sabrina whispered to Chloe's cold face. She confessed to orchestrating everything. She had paid for the acid attack that ruined Chloe's career, and she was the one who pushed Chloe off that fatal rooftop. Sabrina bragged about stealing Chloe's fame, her movie roles, and her fiancé, Adrian. Suddenly, the chapel doors burst open. Adrian strode in, his eyes feral. The cold, distant fiancé Chloe thought never cared about her had already uncovered Sabrina's entire conspiracy. He didn't hand her to the police. He dragged Sabrina into the basement and brutally mutilated her to avenge Chloe. Then, Adrian walked back to Chloe's casket, his confident stride completely broken. "A world without you is not a world I want to live in," he whispered. He pulled out a gun, pressed it to his temple, and pulled the trigger. Chloe's soul shattered with agonizing regret. She had been so blind to Sabrina's venom and Adrian's profound love, driving the only man who truly cared for her to his death. Opening her eyes again, the sharp smell of antiseptic hit her. She was strapped to an operating table, staring at a blinding surgical lamp. She was reborn, back on the exact day Sabrina planned to permanently ruin her face.
Pursued By The Billionaire: Mystic Heiress

Pursued By The Billionaire: Mystic Heiress

Lana was the biological heiress of the wealthy Beaumont family, but she was treated worse than a stray dog. While her family hosted a lavish charity gala, a group of malicious socialites violently shoved her into the deep end of the estate pool. As she thrashed and choked on the heavy, chlorinated water, the girls just watched and laughed. When she finally managed to drag her dying body onto the wet tiles, her aunt Dahlia stood over her with a sneer. "Look at you. You are an embarrassment to this family." Dahlia then kicked Lana's wet hand, trying to force the drowning girl back into the deep end. Her biological mother, Serena, rushed out, but she did not care that her daughter was coughing up pool water. Instead, her mother raised her hand high, aiming to slap Lana across the face. "You are ruining our PR image! If a scandal tanks the company stock, I will throw you back to the slums!" The original Lana died in that cold pool, suffocated by the absolute lack of maternal concern and the cruel mockery of her abusers. Why did her own blood relatives despise her so much? How could a mother watch her child drown and only care about a charity gala? The fragile girl's soul shattered, leaving behind only a ghost of childish resentment and agonizing pain. But when Lana's eyes snapped open again, the gaze radiating from her pupils was freezing cold. The soul of a thousand-year-old mystic leader had just overwritten the remnants of this weak host. Catching her mother's descending hand mid-air, Lana crushed the lingering resentment with cold indifference, ready to make them all pay.
Spectacular Comeback Of The Neglected Heiress

Spectacular Comeback Of The Neglected Heiress

Alya Harrell was the illegitimate daughter of a wealthy Long Island family, treated worse than a stray dog in her own home. Tonight, her family finally found a use for her. Her stepmother and half-sister, Chloe, forced her into a scandalous, plunging red dress. They were offering her as a bargaining chip to Warren Thorne, a ruthless, sleazy hedge fund manager known for collecting and discarding young girls. Just to ensure her absolute humiliation, Chloe intentionally "tripped" and spilled a glass of red wine all over the silk dress. "Now you'll have to wear that hideous little black thing you own," Chloe sneered, leaving Alya to face the high-society dinner looking like a beggar. When Alya tried to escape Thorne's groping hands, her own father hunted her down. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back, and raised his hand to strike her for embarrassing the family. She was nothing but a pawn to them, a cheap product to be sold and abused for their financial gain. Alya's heart turned cold as she realized her blood relatives would gladly destroy her just to secure a lucrative business deal. But when she was sent to the cellar to fetch a $50,000 vintage wine for their billionaire VIP guest, Alya caught her perfect sister hooking up with a personal trainer next to the priceless bottle. Quietly stealing the vintage wine and burying it in the garden dirt, Alya returned to the ballroom with a dangerous smile. "I think I saw Chloe carrying a bottle down to the cellar," she told her furious father and the VIP, leading them straight toward the trap that would completely ruin her sister's perfect life.
Too Late For Regret: My Billionaire Husband

Too Late For Regret: My Billionaire Husband

I was twenty-five weeks pregnant, sitting on a cracked plastic chair at the hospital, when my billionaire husband looked me right in the eye and called me "it." Ellsworth didn't recognize his own wife in my tight coat and swollen ankles; he was too busy shielding his mistress, Jolie, from the "messy cleaning lady" in the hallway. "Just ignore it," he told his assistant as I struggled to stand. "Close the doors. We’re running late for the gala." He left me there with a high-risk pregnancy diagnosis and a prescription I couldn't afford, while he drove off in a Maybach with a woman who had meticulously stolen my entire identity. When I returned to our cold mansion, the nightmare continued. His grandmother treated me like a breeding animal, and the housekeeper tried to starve me because Ellsworth said my weight gain was "embarrassing" to the family name. I soon realized the sick truth: Jolie wasn't just his lover; she was a mimic, wearing my old clothes and using my old hair tutorials to play the role of the woman I was before the Banks family broke me. How could a man who once promised to love me now treat me like a stain on his perfect life? Why was he keeping me trapped in a guest room while parading a fake version of me around the city? They thought I was a broken, penniless ghost with nowhere to go, but they forgot I was once the sharpest financial mind of my generation. While Ellsworth was busy playing house with a replica, I was secretly accepting a fully funded PhD and auditing his illegal shell companies from the shadows of his own home. He thinks he can keep me trapped in this marriage just to secure his trust fund. He has no idea that I’m not just leaving—I’m going to burn his empire to the ground before the baby is even born.
The Jilted Wife's Ruthless Billionaire Comeback

The Jilted Wife's Ruthless Billionaire Comeback

For six years, I gave up my seat on the board and shelved my own ambitions to build my husband's corporate empire and raise our daughter. Then I found him hosting a private candlelit dinner for his fragile mistress, Seraphina, fastening my mother's heirloom emerald necklace around her neck. Sitting right beside them was our six-year-old daughter, Scarlett. "I hope you can come live with us forever, Aunt Seraphina!" My husband just smiled and stroked her hair. He had been slowly poisoning our child against me. When Scarlett saw me, she screamed that I was a control freak and wished Seraphina was her new mommy. My husband even bought his mistress a replica of our Hamptons villa and let her wear my million-dollar custom wedding gown. When I finally confronted them, my own daughter physically attacked me, and my husband threatened to ruin my life if I didn't apologize to his mistress. I looked at the family I had poured my soul into. My love and sacrifices were nothing but a punchline to them. I was treated like an intruder and a villain in my own home. But they forgot who secretly saved their company from bankruptcy. I took off my wedding ring, filed for divorce, and pulled the top-tier medical team keeping his mistress alive. I wouldn't stop until his grandfather signed over fifty percent of their empire to me. This time, I was going to burn his secrets to the ground.
The Pitiful  Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon

The Pitiful Ex-wife Is Now A Brilliant Tycoon

I was the "mute kitten" of billionaire CEO Brice Salazar, a submissive wife who never said a word. For three years, I played the part of the perfect, damaged trophy he rescued from a war zone, living in a mansion that felt like a marble prison. Everything shattered when I caught him with his mistress, Lola Vane. While I sat silently in the shadows of a private club, I heard Brice laughing with his inner circle, calling me "damaged goods" and a "high-maintenance signature machine" who was only useful for signing legal documents. The betrayal went deeper than a secret affair. I discovered a voice memo where Brice planned to have me committed to a Swiss sanitarium the moment my trust fund vested. He wanted to lock me away in a padded room forever so he could keep my money and his freedom. He even bought two identical pink diamond bracelets-one for me to fix his public image, and one for the woman he was actually sleeping with. I realized my "hero" never loved me. He didn't save my life in Kandahar out of mercy; he acquired me like a failing company, exploiting my trauma to ensure my silence. He treated me like a tenant in my own home while planning to erase my very existence. But Brice forgot one thing: before I was his mute wife, I was "The Surgeon," an operative who knew exactly how to handle a predator. I tricked him into signing a separation agreement worth billions and wore a blood-red dress to a gala to hire his greatest enemy, Damon Yates, to eat him alive. Just as the trap was set, my world tilted. The morning sickness hit me with the force of a freight train. I wasn't just escaping a monster anymore; I was carrying his child, the ultimate leverage in a war that had just become life or death.
Reborn To Ruin My Cheating Fiancé

Reborn To Ruin My Cheating Fiancé

Isabella thought she had the perfect life as the wealthy Conrad family heiress, complete with a loving childhood sweetheart. Until she woke up drugged in a hotel bed, blinded by paparazzi flashes, as her fiancé pointed a shaking finger at her, screaming that she had drugged and seduced him. "She threatened to ruin Kaylie if I didn't sleep with her!" he yelled to the cameras. Kaylie, the newly discovered biological daughter, stood in the doorway weeping perfectly. Within hours, Isabella's adoptive father publicly severed all ties, froze her assets, and kicked her out into a violent thunderstorm. Fleeing the city, her car's brakes suddenly failed. As Isabella lay dying in the crushed metal of her Porsche, Kaylie strolled up with a pristine umbrella and a genuine smile. "The mechanic was quite expensive, but cutting the brake lines was worth every penny," Kaylie laughed. Isabella coughed up blood, her heart turning to ice. Her twenty years of family, love, and loyalty had been nothing but a cruel joke, destroyed by a calculated frame-up. She died suffocating on absolute betrayal and unadulterated hatred. Then, she gasped for air. She wasn't dead. She was sitting in the driver's seat of her car, staring at her flawless reflection in the rearview mirror. It was exactly four years ago—the day the real heiress first arrived. A chilling smirk curled the corner of Isabella's mouth. This time, she was going to rip their lives apart from the inside out.
Too Late For Regret: The Surgeon's Escape

Too Late For Regret: The Surgeon's Escape

Dr. Kayli Byrd was in the middle of her ER shift when the trauma doors burst open. The patient wheeled in from a car crash was her husband of five years, Brody. But he wasn't alone. Beside him was his mistress, Carly, and Kayli's own son, Leo. Brody didn't even look at Kayli as his wife. He just barked orders at her like she was staff, demanding a full workup for Carly's minor scratch. When Kayli reached out to check on her son, Leo flinched in fear. He buried his face into the mistress's neck, whimpering for "Auntie Carly" and completely rejecting his own mother. Later, at the courthouse, Brody deliberately brought Carly and Leo to flaunt his perfect new family. He thought this would break Kayli. He thought she would cry and beg him not to leave. For five years, Kayli had sacrificed her surgical career to play the quiet, invisible wife for his wealthy family. She finally understood she was just a placeholder, easily replaced by a woman who had effortlessly stolen both her husband and her child. The betrayal was absolute, leaving her with a cold, hollow space in her chest. But instead of breaking down, Kayli calmly handed the mediator her terms. "I'm waiving my custody rights to Leo, and I want a twenty million dollar severance to disappear quietly." Before Brody could even process the shock, Kayli blocked his number, packed a single suitcase, and boarded a one-way flight to Europe to start a new life.
Flash Marriage To My Mysterious Patient

Flash Marriage To My Mysterious Patient

I am the undisputed ice queen of the ER, a doctor whose life is built on absolute control. A month ago, I impulsively married a stranger to create a legal shield against my ex-mentor's betrayal. Our prenup had one strict rule: a fake marriage with zero interference in each other's lives. But tonight, my "husband on paper" was wheeled into my ER, unconscious, reeking of cheap whiskey, and suffering from a bleeding ulcer. To authorize his emergency surgery, I had to sign the consent form as his wife, detonating a gossip bomb among my colleagues. Worse, his overbearing family found out he was hospitalized. To stop his terrifying mother from flying in and exposing our sham marriage, I had to lean over his hospital bed and take a fake, loving couple's selfie. I didn't understand why this disciplined math professor was suddenly drinking himself to death, nor why my chest tightened when he looked at me with exhausted eyes and begged for homemade soup. My perfectly ordered, untouchable life was crumbling into a chaotic mess, and I was losing my grip on the narrative. "We should probably spend some time together beforehand. We could be roommates." To prepare for an unavoidable family dinner and a wedding, my stranger husband just asked me to move into his apartment. The ultimate uncontrolled variable has just crossed the line, and our fake marriage is about to become dangerously real.
Rising From The Deep: The Heiress's Wrath

Rising From The Deep: The Heiress's Wrath

I walked into the master suite clutching a positive pregnancy test, convinced this tiny plastic stick would finally mend the cracks in my relationship with Braeden Randall. I was ready to tell him we were starting a family, that our future was finally secure. Instead of a celebration, a heavy manila envelope struck me in the chest, slicing my lip open. Photos scattered at my feet—grainy images of a woman who looked exactly like me entering a seedy motel with a stranger. Before I could speak, Braeden’s face twisted with a hatred so pure it stole my breath. "I’m pregnant, Braeden! It’s yours!" I sobbed, shielding my stomach. He didn’t hesitate. He called my baby "evidence of my filth" and delivered a kick so brutal it sent me crashing through a glass coffee table. As I lay amidst the shards, watching the white carpet turn crimson with the blood of my lost child, he simply adjusted his cufflinks and told me to "clean up the mess" before walking out. Hours later, I was bound in ropes on a yacht during a violent storm. My stepmother, Brittny, leaned in and whispered the ultimate betrayal: she had murdered my mother, and now she was finishing me off. They threw me into the black, churning ocean like garbage, expecting the waves to swallow my secrets forever. I sank into the freezing depths, fueled by the memory of that final, desperate flutter in my womb and the cold realization that my life had been stolen by a calculated frame-up. How could the man I loved turn into a monster in a single afternoon, and what else were they hiding? Now, four years later, I’ve returned to Cloud City with a heart forged in ice and a genius son who looks exactly like the man who tried to kill me. I’m no longer the victim who begged for mercy; I’m a rising star auditioning for the lead in Braeden’s new production. The games are just beginning, and I won't stop until I've dismantled the Randall empire piece by piece.
Bought By The Coldhearted Media Mogul

Bought By The Coldhearted Media Mogul

My bank account was four hundred dollars in the red when my brother called me screaming from the most exclusive club in Manhattan. He said he was going to be killed or arrested, and I was the only one who could save him from the mess he’d made. When I arrived at The Onyx, I found my brother on his knees, accused of assaulting a high-profile socialite. But instead of begging for my help, he pointed a shaking finger at me and screamed, "It was her! My sister set the whole thing up because she wanted money!" The man watching the chaos from the shadows was Adrian Clemons—the billionaire CEO of the company where I worked as a lowly assistant. He didn't look at me with pity; he looked at me with a profound, exhausted disgust, as if I were a stain on his expensive rug. To save his own skin, my brother didn't just lie; he offered me up like a piece of tradeable property. "She'll do anything," he pleaded with the billionaire. "She’s clean, she’s obedient. Just don't send me to jail!" Adrian didn't call the police. Instead, he made a cold, terrifying business proposal: "Lend her to me for one year. I wipe your debt, and the cops stay away." My brother didn't even blink before he snapped, "Done. Take her." I was whisked away to City Hall in a silent Rolls Royce, signing a marriage license before I could even process the betrayal. I wasn't a bride; I was a "human asset" bought to help a cold-blooded monster secure his inheritance. The moment my hand accidentally brushed his during the signing, he recoiled as if I were contagious, his face turning a ghostly, panicked white. He made it clear that I was nothing more than a prop, a girl from the slums meant to spite his elitist mother. As the heavy iron gates of the Clemons estate slammed shut behind me that night, I realized I hadn't just saved my brother. I had entered a golden cage owned by a man who hated my touch, but owned my life for the next three hundred and sixty-five days.
Genius Wife's Revenge: Too Late For Regret

Genius Wife's Revenge: Too Late For Regret

For two years, I played the role of the "Midwestern mistake," the mousey wife Julian Ford-Sterling IV kept hidden like a shameful secret. I hid my true self behind thick glasses and ashen foundation, acting as the perfect, cowed charity case while he lived a life of marble and indifference. The day our marriage contract ended, the headlines were already screaming about his affair with Hollywood’s sweetheart, Lana Vane. Julian didn't even grant me a final conversation; he simply sent his legal team to hand me divorce papers that gave me nothing—no alimony, no shares, just a non-disclosure agreement and a one-way ticket out of his life. I signed the papers and walked away, but a drugged encounter in a dark club that same night led me back into his arms. We collided in the shadows, two strangers stripped of their titles, but I fled before dawn, accidentally leaving behind my vintage silver locket. By the time I reached my secret design studio the next morning, I discovered Julian had executed a hostile takeover of my entire life’s work. To my horror, Lana Vane was already there, clutching my stolen locket and shamelessly claiming she was the woman Julian had spent the night with. Julian stood before me in his charcoal suit, looking at me with total lack of recognition. To him, I was just a "gold-digging" architect he had bought along with the furniture. I watched them together, the man who had discarded me and the woman who had stolen my identity, realizing that Julian was obsessed with the genius of "Rose" while despising the woman who stood right in front of him. He had no idea that the wife he’d just divorced was the very person he was now desperate to control. I straightened my spine, my violet-blue eyes cold and lethal behind my new designer frames. "Mr. Ford-Sterling, you wanted the best designer in the city? You’ve got her. But you should know—I don't just build empires. I know exactly how to tear them down."
Flash Marriage To The Ruthless General

Flash Marriage To The Ruthless General

Alice worked relentlessly as a government translator to support her boyfriend, Brandon. But one night, she came home to find him in their bed with his junior coworker, Megan. Instead of apologizing, Brandon tried to strike her and demanded she move out of the apartment she paid for. When Alice's dormant combat instincts kicked in and she threw him out, he played the victim to the neighbors. Worse, he and Megan forged documents to sue Alice for $200,000 in fake business debt, planning to leave her completely bankrupt. To add insult to injury, her boss publicly humiliated her the next day, stripping her of her prestigious Pentagon assignment to give it to Megan. Alice was pushed to the brink of despair. She couldn't understand how the man she had provided for could be so viciously calculating. And she was even more terrified by the mysterious, dangerous stranger who had witnessed her hallway fight, only to corner her later and use Brandon's lawsuit to force her into a sudden marriage contract. Just as Megan smugly mocked Alice in front of the entire office for being a dumped, delusional loser, the main doors slid open. The stranger walked in, wearing the perfectly pressed uniform of a U.S. Army Major General. He stopped right beside Alice, his cold gaze sweeping over her terrified boss and a pale Megan. "A correction," he announced with absolute authority. "She wasn't lying. I did ask her to marry me last night, and she said yes."
Reborn And Married To The Ruthless Billionaire

Reborn And Married To The Ruthless Billionaire

For six years, Elena Craig dedicated her life and her brilliant mind to her fiancé, Jory Black. She built his tech empire from the ground up, believing they were heading toward a perfect marriage. But her reward wasn't a wedding ring. It was a staged car crash and the suffocating, damp earth of a fresh grave. As her bones splintered under the crushing weight of the dirt, she heard the people she loved most standing over her casket. "Don't worry, sis. I'll take good care of Jory for you. And all your money." Her stepsister Carissa laughed like poison, while Jory coldly dismissed Elena as just a boring stepping stone. They had been sleeping together in her bed, plotting to bankrupt her mother's company, before burying her alive to silence her forever. The agonizing pain of suffocation was nothing compared to the raw, gaping wound of their betrayal. How could she have been so blind to the monsters living right beside her? Why did her unwavering loyalty only earn her a brutal, agonizing death? Then, her eyes flew open. She wasn't dead. She was sitting on Jory's plush sofa, reborn exactly two days before her family's ruin. Hearing her stepsister's suppressed moans coming from the master bedroom, Elena didn't shed a single tear. She calmly walked in, dropped her three-carat diamond ring into Jory's whiskey, and slapped him viciously across the face. "Our engagement is over." Leaving the cheating scum behind, she walked straight out into the midnight air to propose to the most ruthless billionaire in New York.