Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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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./0/81614/coverorgin.jpg?v=ba765b453c0f53ae7b9d244ffbd25c06&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reclaiming Her Empire
I poured my soul into his tech startup, sacrificing law school and working tirelessly. Years later, as Innovatech became a multi-million-dollar empire, I found myself battered by endless, agonizing IVF failures. Then, the truth shattered my world: my beloved husband, Ethan, had been having a secret seven-year affair with his young assistant, Chloe. He'd rented her a luxury downtown apartment and showered her with designer gifts, all while I was injecting hormones, praying for 'our' baby. When confronted, Ethan showed no remorse, blaming my 'stress' and 'obsession with IVF' for his infidelity, claiming Chloe was 'easier' and 'the future.' Chloe, emboldened, moved into our home, flaunting her affair, even subtly attempting to poison me with my severe allergies. Ethan consistently sided with her, excusing her malice, eventually proclaiming his joy over Chloe' s pregnancy while cruelly using my infertility as a weapon against me. His contempt reached its peak when he blamed me after Chloe's hired thugs brutally assaulted me in a parking lot, leaving me bleeding and collapsing. How could the ambitious, loving man who once promised a lifetime of happiness transform into such a heartless monster, completely discarding me for a manipulative mistress? My deepest pain, my very being, had been weaponized against me. But as the Austin sun set on my shattered life, a cold, unshakeable resolve dawned. I had lost our baby, lost my marriage, lost my sense of self. Now, the charade was over. It was time to dismantle his world, piece by agonizing piece, and reclaim everything he'd stolen. My Manhattan sunrise would be a brutal awakening for him, and a brilliant new beginning for me./0/86620/coverorgin.jpg?v=7f26cd55cba7a8141c5cd5518509e6f0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Dowry Denied, Destiny Rewritten
The air in the Las Vegas hotel choked with stale champagne and failure. My fiancé, Mark, slumped at the poker table, surrounded by his smirking cousins, Kevin and Brian. A fortune in chips piled before them. Mark' s pile was empty. My heart sank when Kevin announced the amount: "One hundred and eighty thousand dollars." That was my dowry, a fund for our future, our new home. Mark' s mother, Brenda, cornered me, her voice sharp. "You need to fix this, Sarah. It' s a family debt. You have the money. Pay it." My blood ran cold. She wanted my dowry to cover a reckless gambling debt. Mark wouldn' t even look at me, a pathetic man playing for sympathy. "Brenda, that' s… that' s everything we have," I stammered. "What kind of life will you have if your husband is in debt to his own family?" she countered. "Pay it, Sarah. It' s the only way." I looked at Mark, begging him with my eyes to defend us. He just shook his head, a weak gesture of defeat. The pressure was crushing, a trap closing in. My hand trembled as I reached for my purse, numb with shock and a twisted sense of duty. Then, a line of text shimmered in the air, a translucent pop-up. "Kevin and Brian are exchanging triumphant glances. They are predators who just cornered their prey." I blinked, shaking my head, but it was still there. Then another: "Brenda' s eyes are fixed on your purse, gleaming with anticipation, like a hawk watching a mouse." The fog in my brain cleared. This wasn' t tragic loss. This was a performance. A carefully planned scam to steal my money. Seven years of love, crumbling in an instant. The man I was to marry was a conspirator, his mother the mastermind. The devastation felt physical, but a cold, hard anger began to rise. They thought I was a fool. They were wrong. My hand became perfectly steady. I took a deep breath, the air tasting of betrayal. "No," I said, the single word cutting through the tension./1/120254/coverorgin.jpg?v=50a0ac9c0ce5402601a565c89a6f186c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Invisible Wife Was A Dazzling Superstar
For three years, Nicole was Blaine's invisible wife, giving up her singing career to devote herself to him. In return, she watched his name trend online beside the woman he loved. This time, Nicole chose divorce. Before leaving, she made sure to collect a little interest on three years of heartbreak by finally sleeping with him, even sending her soon-to-be ex-husband to a urologist and causing an online frenzy. While everyone expected her downfall, Nicole returned to the stage. Her comeback songs topped the charts, and endorsements poured in. Meanwhile, the husband who never cared realized he couldn't live without her. And so began his desperate crusade to win back his ex-wife./1/101951/coverorgin.jpg?v=530fabad06693980260372dda9994f75&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Gilded Cage Girl's Escape
I was Anderson Mathews' sugar baby, his pretty little thing. But when I saw him kiss his sister-in-law, Hope-his one true love-I knew I had to escape. I planned my exit meticulously, aiming to disappear the second my contract ended. I would become a scientist, find a kind, ordinary man, and build a life of my own. But Anderson wouldn't let go. He sabotaged the career of Caleb, the good man I' d fallen for, and used my estranged mother to publicly humiliate me, all to force me back into his gilded cage. "Marry me, Ayla," he proposed, a lifetime contract to replace the old one. "You'll be truly free. With me." My mother' s screams echoed in my ears: "She's a whore! Your whore! Dirty goods!" And Caleb, my Caleb, heard every word. I looked at Anderson's cold, possessive eyes, then at Caleb's, filled with a pain that shattered my heart. I had to make a choice. This time, I wouldn't just run. I would end this, once and for all./1/114466/coverorgin.jpg?v=939072c44a795ea67705b76536b3159b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Billionaire Fiancé's Hidden Wife
My fiancé, Knox, was the man I’d spent ten years building a life with, the one I’d poured my family’s fortune into. But then I found the lockbox. Inside, a photo of him smiling, his arm around a heavily pregnant woman, marked: *To my only wife Deana.* I’d been looking for a charger in our Boston penthouse closet when I stumbled upon it. The faded Polaroid showed Knox, younger, beaming, with a heavily pregnant stranger. Its timestamp: "Ten years ago"—the exact year I funded his Ivy League PhD. Flipping the photo, I saw Knox’s familiar handwriting: *To my only wife Deana and our upcoming miracle.* My world crumbled. The man I’d loved had a wife, making me the unwitting mistress. My opulent life was built on his lies. His text, "Baby, I'm coming home to *our house*," twisted into a cruel joke. My tears froze. A decade of sacrifices, of family alienation—all for a man who used my money and trust—shredded in my mind. The fragile woman in me vanished; my eyes turned cold and clear. I relocked the box, smoothed the rug, and applied crimson lipstick. Practicing a flawless smile, I whispered, "Welcome home, my sweet liar."/1/107270/coverorgin.jpg?v=470502897e35b74a4503af64a9fe23eb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Son's Death, His Cruel Betrayal
For seven years, I gave up my life as a genius engineer to be the perfect wife for my husband, Jonathan, a U.S. Senator. But when our five-year-old son drowned, he didn't comfort me. He comforted his adopted sister, Hailey, and blamed me for our son's death. At the wake, he stood by as his family beat me, calling me a murderer. He watched them shove my head into a freezing pond, forcing me to feel the same terror our son felt in his last moments. His protection was always for Hailey, never for me. Then I learned the horrifying truth. Jonathan was there when our son fell in the water. He saw him struggling, but he chose to comfort a panicking Hailey first. He let our son die. So I filed for divorce in secret and vanished into a classified research project. But when he tracked me down, begging for a second chance in front of his new colleagues, I played a recording for everyone to hear. It was Hailey's voice, gleefully admitting that Jonathan had chosen her over his own dying child./0/80363/coverorgin.jpg?v=81a69f8b00eecf37b518102f90f9b8b1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Elite PMC Leader's Price: A Bargain at $9.99
I was Ethan “Ghost” Riker, an elite PMC leader, engaged to Sophia. My disciplined, trust-filled life felt stable, despite its dangers. But a botched mission, leaving my best man critically injured, shattered that. The culprit? Kevin, Sophia’s arrogant younger brother, whom I held accountable. This decision would unearth a betrayal I never imagined. The next morning, my secure sat phone buzzed with an alarming alert. My full bio, deepest secrets, and safe houses were on the dark web for $9.99. Too fast, too precise, too intimate – it pointed to Sophia. Then, from the Walker estate, I heard her chilling laugh, boasting she’d listed me for pennies. She confirmed I was a "tool," a "dog" who needed reminding of his place. My blood ran cold, burning with rage, as she casually plotted my further humiliation. Driven by disbelief, I walked into her trap: a desolate factory, a fake "safe house." Drugged, helpless, I faced my bitter old enemies, orchestrated by Sophia and Kevin. They beat me bloody, filming every degrading moment, leaving me for dead. Each blow was agony, but the public humiliation was worse. "Why, Sophia?" I rasped, as she knelt beside me, her perfume mixing with my blood. Her whisper sealed my fate: "Because it's entertaining." "This is what happens to dogs that bite," she purred, abandoning me. How could she destroy me so meticulously, so coldly, after everything? I refused to die her dog. A stubborn defiance ignited in my broken spirit. Against all odds, I clung to life, rescued by a loyal brother-in-arms. They thought they’d killed the Ghost, but Ethan Riker was truly reborn. The man who survived would be harder, colder, and ready to rewrite the rules./1/113997/coverorgin.jpg?v=32a9a752ba732c02efdbfaf7d71e9080&imageMogr2/format/webp)
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./1/116500/coverorgin.jpg?v=49405c57cd60110812a8fa46c96618a2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
No Longer Their Pawn, Now His Bride
For five years, I lived as a ghost in my own body, a replacement for the dead twin sister I never knew. My family held my dream of becoming a designer hostage, forcing me into a contract after they'd already sabotaged my future as a concert pianist. On the night the contract was set to end, my younger brother found my secret portfolio. In a blind rage, he tore my life's work to shreds and shoved me to the ground. I landed hard, my left hand slamming against a table with a sickening crack. It was my drawing hand. It was broken. When my parents arrived, they didn't see my pain. My father blamed me for provoking my brother. My mother accused me of trying to kill her. Then, my father's hand struck my face. "You monster!" he roared. "You are nothing but a vicious, manipulative creature!" The boy I had raised for five years screamed at me to get out, his eyes filled with a chilling hatred I finally understood they had fed him. I looked at my bleeding hand, at the wreckage of my dreams, and at the strangers who called themselves my family. I finally stopped trying to earn their love. I turned and walked out the door, leaving them behind forever./1/105393/coverorgin.jpg?v=ff0908fb9219f0044d5f9ee0eba96448&imageMogr2/format/webp)
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./0/58462/coverorgin.jpg?v=c904a3bf996c158618a00e307a5a1398&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Neglected Wife
After five years of marriage, my husband is always absent on my birthday. No gifts, no blessings. He said, "I've given you the money, buy whatever you want." But he started preparing for Fiona's birthday half a month in advance. He said, "She's different, she only has me." As the sole survivor of a unexpected fire, he has been heartbroken for over a decade. Watching Fiona in Moments holding a cake and kissing his face. I slowly commented. 【Just this useless person, I'm giving him to you.】/0/79581/coverorgin.jpg?v=1109fbc3cd7b7e1aa8e1d1e3d83c7abf&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Lingering Obsession
"He was just a stranger on a road. Now he's the father of my child, the man I can't trust... and the one I can't stop loving." I saved a stranger on a dark, deserted road. What I didn't know was that he was Darlington Cross-a billionaire whose name ruled headlines and whose enemies hunted him like prey. That night changed everything. One night of passion months later? That ruined me. He didn't know I was the woman who once saved his life. I didn't know he would become the man determined to claim mine. Now, I carry his child. And he's turned my world into a golden cage, forcing me into marriage-twisting love, protection, and obsession into one terrifying promise: You will never walk away from me again. But I'm not the same woman anymore. Not just a surgeon. Not just his secret. I'm his equal now. And I'm done running. Because the deeper our war becomes, the more I realize... Darlington isn't just fighting for power. He's fighting for me. And in the ashes of betrayal and blood, I'll have to decide- Is his love my ruin... or my redemption?/0/84587/coverorgin.jpg?v=07fde86fba783d113690a08f8ccd2321&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Family, My Betrayal
The heavy iron gate groaned shut, a sound I knew too well after five years inside. I stood there, a single duffel bag holding all that was left of my old life, traded my prison gray for ill-fitting civilian clothes. Then a sleek black car pulled up, and Maestro Chen, the man who saw something in my prison-yard music, told me we were going home-my old home. But "home" had already moved on, without me. Liam Carter, a man with my face, had stolen everything: my fiancée Olivia, my family' s love, even my dog Apollo. My family-my parents, Robert and Sarah, and my sister Emily-they didn' t just embrace him, they erased me, the painful reminder of a tragedy they preferred to forget. They even cheered as Liam, the imposter who now wore my own sweater, feigned a heart attack to steal their sympathy, completely overshadowing my unwelcome return. The word "family" turned to ash on my tongue as I realized I was nothing more than a ghost in my own house, a forgotten inconvenience. I was a punchline to a cruel joke, a fugitive framed for arson by the very imposter my family rallied to protect. They chose the lie, leaving me to burn, and then branded me a violent, unstable criminal to the world. Completely alone, disowned, and hunted, I was staring into an abyss of betrayal I hadn't imagined possible. But as I looked at the embers of my destroyed past, a cold certainty ignited: I wouldn't just disappear; I would rise. I became Lloyd, severing every last tie, not merely to escape, but to orchestrate a crescendo of truth-a final, devastating performance to reclaim my name and expose the monsters they truly were./0/84900/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106205459&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Unseen Twin
The cold floor bit into Chloe' s cheek as rough hands pulled at her, accusations screaming in her ears – accusations of ruining lives, of being a disgrace. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open to sunlight streaming through her window, the familiar comfort of her own bed; she was back. But the relief was fleeting as the news anchor's voice cut through the quiet night, detailing a scandalous video of her, filmed at the prestigious Hawthorne Hotel, showing illicit activities that had gone viral. Her phone exploded with a torrent of hate, each comment a sharp object piercing her, while her fiancé, Mark, stormed in, his eyes blazing, demanding answers and throwing his phone down to reveal the damning video, accusing her of everything. Even as police detailed irrefutable evidence of her presence with DNA, timestamps, and surveillance footage, she knew it was impossible-she had been home all day-and a chilling impossibility settled over her as a desperate thought began to form: how could it be her, yet not be her?/1/104924/coverorgin.jpg?v=cd8389fd415ee2433f47ebc1f24f07bc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Billionaire In Disguise: Marrying A Poor Husband Who Owns The World
Alicia believed for years she was deeply in love with Michael, until she regained her sight and caught him and her sister boldly betraying her. The man who'd pretended to be her husband while she was blind turned out to be a beggar hired for the deception-her own parents complicit in the scheme to steal her fortune. Heartbroken, Alicia struck back, hiring the poor man to help her reclaim what was hers. As their act unfolded, true feelings grew. Just as things seemed to be going well, Michael found himself regretting his betrayal, captivated by Alicia's newfound radiance. When Michael begged her back, the world was shocked: the beggar was actually a secret tycoon who gave Alicia the grandest love-and all he owned./1/114936/coverorgin.jpg?v=8ef02ef4de2b9ae3a6c4487bb35d4066&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Love, My Ruin
My love. My ruin. Ashton Hampton saved me from my mother's scandal. I gave him my whole heart. Then he told me he was marrying another woman for business. My role? His hidden mistress. At our engagement party, his new fiancée accused me of ruining her brooch. Ashton didn't question it. He demanded I apologize. The crowd attacked. He watched. I climbed onto a helicopter and disappeared. Eighteen years later, I saw him on a park bench—broken, hollow, begging for one more word. I gave him two: “No comment.”/1/106332/coverorgin.jpg?v=441038be4dc2855761d4bd2f0c9940dc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Scars Behind My Golden Dress
I spent four hours preparing a five-course meal for our fifth anniversary. When Jackson finally walked into the penthouse an hour late, he didn't even look at the table. He just dropped a thick Manila envelope in front of me and told me he was done. He said his stepsister, Davida, was getting worse and needed "stability." I wasn't his wife; I was a placeholder, a temporary fix he used until the woman he actually loved was ready to take my place. Jackson didn't just want a divorce; he wanted to erase me. He called me a "proprietary asset," claiming that every design I had created to save his empire belonged to him. He froze my bank accounts, cut off my phone, and told me I’d be nothing without his name. Davida even called me from her hospital bed to flaunt the family heirloom ring Jackson claimed was lost, mocking me for being "baggage" that was finally being cleared out. I stood in our empty home, realizing I had spent five years being a martyr for a man who saw me as a transaction. I couldn't understand how he could be so blind to the monster he was protecting, or how he could discard me so coldly after I had given him everything. I grabbed my hidden sketchbook, shredded our wedding portrait, and walked out into the rain. I dialed a number I hadn't touched in years—a dangerous man known as The Surgeon who dealt in debts and shadows. I told him I was ready to pay his price. Jackson and Davida wanted to steal my identity, but I was about to show the world the literal scars they had left behind./1/118847/coverorgin.jpg?v=a0fafa303e7edf676ed9b8c0c18bf431&imageMogr2/format/webp)
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./0/81615/coverorgin.jpg?v=96d2e4a193eea9548201d171c3070343&imageMogr2/format/webp)
