Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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Far Apart, Safe at Last
During a snow-mountain expedition, an avalanche buried me alive. By the time they dug me out, the cold had already drained every last trace of warmth and life from my body. Julian Crowe dug through the snow with his bare hands for ten straight hours. His fingers were torn and bleeding by the time he finally pulled me out. Then he chartered a private jet and rushed me to the most elite private hospital for emergency treatment. Inside the thermal recovery chamber, a faint thread of consciousness returned to me. Through the haze, I heard Julian arguing with the doctor. "Weren't we supposed to amputate just to save her life? Why are you draining all of her hematopoietic stem cells too? Mr. Crowe, you're personally destroying her last chance of survival!" Julian's voice, usually so controlled, carried a chilling cruelty. "Letting her live safely and comfortably until today is already the greatest mercy I've ever shown her. The only woman who will grow old with me is Serena Vale. And the only thing that can save Serena is her life. She owes Serena that much, and now it's time to repay it." So the promise to live and die together had only been my own foolish fantasy. Julian had married me, Stella Hart, for one reason only. To turn me into a walking blood bank for his precious mistress. If that was the truth, then I would give them exactly what they wanted./1/101333/coverorgin.jpg?v=cb7cd928ef844766aa62e7ed43c93b72&imageMogr2/format/webp)
I Divorced My Husband, I Married His Rival
When she's preparing dinner for him, he's out there dating; When she's drinking with men to get a business deal for him, he is announcing to be single for the price of his stock; When she drags herself to the hospital in high fever, he's at the same hospital, taking care of his ex girl friend. She loved him for ten years. She did everything for him and gave him everything she had. She thought their love can never die, yet it did. She doesn't hate him. She's just tired. She turns and left him, only to see that there was a firm chest that has been waiting for her all this time. She is also the one adored in another man's eyes, and when she finally gets a taste of being loved, she realize-- He has never loved her. That day he gets back home, only to be shocked that the woman who has always been there for him was gone. Regret taking over him as he chases after her, only to see another man saying the scared oath on the alter with their hands holding together. That was when he realized-- The innocent girl who loved him, the most precious treasure that he as ever got in his life, is gone. He lost the best thing that has ever been his. Two broken hearts. One fake marriage. A thousand buried secrets. Eva thought love would be enough to keep them together. Ten years loving Stephan. Five years married to him. And one tragic accident that shattered everything they ever were, she's left with a stranger wearing her husband's face. Until the day she finally walks away. And that's when she meets Micah, her ex-husband's enemy, the man who once set her marriage on fire just by existing. He proposes to her a dangerous deal: a one-year marriage that will make Stephan regret ever letting her go. But what starts as a game to wound her ex soon spirals into something raw, tender, and terrifyingly real. Only, Micah isn't what he seems. Behind his easy smile are secrets she was never meant to find, secrets that could destroy them both. And when the truth comes out, love might not be enough to save anyone. When the lies unravel... will her heart choose forgiveness - or freedom?/0/85220/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106205817&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Love's Deception, A Fortune's Rebirth
The plan was simple: two weeks of quiet solitude at my apartment, a much-needed break from the relentless grind of my architecture career. But the moment I unlocked the door, a cloying, unfamiliar perfume assaulted my senses, followed by the sight of a stranger lounging on my custom velvet sofa, nonchalantly filing her nails. "Can I help you?" she drawled, dripping with disdain, as I stood dumbfounded in the doorway of my own home, apartment 3B. This woman, Tiffany Stone, introduced herself as my brother Liam' s new girlfriend, claiming this was "Liam's place," scoffing at my very career and dismissing my deeply personal space as a mere "graduation present" for a girl who "drew buildings." The audacity escalated swiftly. Tiffany and her mother, Mrs. Stone-a woman cloaked in fur and radiating venom-informed me they were "redecorating" my apartment and expected me to find a hotel. My cherished minimalist decor and art prints had vanished, replaced by gaudy, tasteless clutter. When I tried to reach my bedroom, where my personal safe contained the deed to the apartment, they physically blocked my path, declaring, "It's not your room anymore. It's our guest room." My own family, my own brother, seemed to be orchestrating this hostile takeover. The situation spiraled into a nightmare; a physical altercation broke out, leaving me bruised and bleeding, yet they accused me of assault. The building manager, Mr. Davis, shockingly sided with them, presenting falsified records to claim the apartment belonged to Liam. Then Liam himself arrived, not as a rescuer, but as the architect of my downfall, embracing Tiffany, feigning concern, and publicly humiliating me. He flatly stated he had transferred the deed to his name and then, with a chilling smile, proposed to essentially sell me off to a business associate. Every accusation, every betrayal, shattered my reality. He even revealed I was adopted, not truly a Reed, trying to strip away my entire identity. But in that moment, as I lay on the floor, a cold clarity crystallized. He had given me a weapon. I seized my T-square, shattered a mirror in a defiant act, and ran, finally breaking free to call for help. From the depths of betrayal, armed with undeniable evidence from a hidden camera and a desperate revelation that Liam, not I, was the adopted one, I watched as Liam, Tiffany, her mother, and the building manager were arrested, their carefully constructed lies crumbling on national television. This was not just about reclaiming an apartment. It was about rebuilding a legacy, reshaping my family's future, and redefining my own purpose./0/18265/coverorgin.jpg?v=20210813193216&imageMogr2/format/webp)
I Like Your Shoes
"Sometimes, we are so smitten with happy endings, that we believe we'll end up with one too." Ambrosia Bellemore never believed in happy endings, even though the books she read said otherwise. The closest she ever came to magic was when she found the most beautiful pair of ruby red heels on Amazon. "Lives aren't stories. Stories end, happy or otherwise. But lives don't. We die, and there's nothing happy or otherwise in dying." Calum Achorn never believed in magic. The closest he ever came to magic was when he met an infuriatingly wonderful woman on a flight to New York, wearing the most beautiful pair of ruby red heels he'd ever seen./1/102741/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106222538&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Fiance's Betrayal, My Fiery Vengeance
My fiancé and my adopted sister framed me for burning down our Hamptons beach house. They had me declared insane and used a forged power of attorney to lock me away in a private facility for four years. While I was drugged, tortured, and systematically broken, they stole my company, my reputation, and my life. When I was finally released, they stood before me, dripping in the wealth they'd stolen. Kelly, my sister, even wore my mother's engagement ring, a glittering trophy on her finger. They saw a vacant, docile shell, not the woman who spent every waking moment meticulously planning their ruin. They thought they had extinguished the fire. At a party meant to celebrate their victory, Kelly held up a dog collar studded with cheap rhinestones. "Wear this," she cooed, "and you can have your mother's watch back." I dropped to my knees and barked. They thought it was my final, crushing humiliation; it was the beginning of their end./1/106652/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260527211752&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Jilted Bride's Revenge: The Valkyrie Awakens
I had been a wife for exactly six hours when I woke up to the sound of my husband’s heavy breathing. In the dim moonlight of our bridal suite, I watched Hardin, the man I had adored for years, intertwined with my sister Carissa on the chaise lounge. The betrayal didn't come with an apology. Hardin stood up, unashamed, and sneered at me. "You're awake? Get out, you frumpy mute." Carissa huddled under a throw, her fake tears already welling up as she played the victim. They didn't just want me gone; they wanted me erased to protect their reputations. When I refused to move, my world collapsed. My father didn't offer a shoulder to cry on; he threatened to have me committed to a mental asylum to save his business merger. "You're a disgrace," he bellowed, while the guards stood ready to drag me away. They had spent my life treating me like a stuttering, submissive pawn, and now they were done with me. I felt a blinding pain in my skull, a fracture that should have broken me. But instead of tears, something dormant and lethal flickered to life. The terrified girl who walked down the aisle earlier that day simply ceased to exist. In her place, a clinical system—the Valkyrie Protocol—booted up. My racing heart plummeted to a steady sixty beats per minute. I didn't scream. I stood up, my spine straightening for the first time in twenty years, and looked at Hardin with the detachment of a surgeon looking at a tumor. "Correction," I said, my voice stripped of its stutter. "You're in my light." By dawn, I had drained my father's accounts, vanished into a storm, and found a bleeding Crown Prince in a hidden safehouse. They thought they had broken a mute girl. They didn't realize they had just activated their own destruction./0/50804/coverorgin.jpg?v=20251014150355&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Love's Second Design
After three years as a dedicated housewife, Jessica's efforts to save her marriage ended in relentless heartbreak. Resolute, she divorced Aaron. Rising from the ashes, Jessica transformed into a renowned designer and business tycoon, building her empire without relying on her family's wealth. Her success and independence attracted many admirers. With pride, Jessica declared, "I'll never regret my divorce." However, Aaron returned, filled with remorse. "I deeply regret it. Please, my dear ex-wife, let's try again. Let's mend our relationship and remarry." Would Jessica, now empowered and at a crossroads, choose to rekindle love?/1/105557/coverorgin.jpg?v=033b26438bf347bdf0a35be7a8c4170d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn To Ruin: The Jilted Heiress's Revenge
I lay on a mildewed mattress in a run-down motel, my body trembling from withdrawal. Once the most feared "Gossip Queen" in Hollywood, I was now a forty-three-year-old ghost staring at a cracked mirror, waiting for the end. The door clicked open, and Brittany Potts stepped in, looking immaculate in a beige trench coat that cost more than my life. She didn't come to help; she tossed a waiver of marital assets onto my bed and handed me a cup of coffee laced with something that smelled like bitter almonds. She laughed, telling me my husband, Bennet, was already in the Bahamas celebrating my death. I froze when I saw the sapphire pendant around her neck—my mother’s necklace, which had vanished the day she died. As the poison began to burn through my chest, Brittany leaned in and whispered her final secret: she was the one who cut the brake lines on the car that killed my father when we were teenagers. My entire life had been a lie. The pills, the scandal, the bankruptcy—it was all a masterpiece of betrayal orchestrated by the two people I trusted most. I died on that filthy floor, suffocating on my own rage and the taste of chemicals, praying for a single chance to make them pay. But when I opened my eyes, the pain was gone. I was sitting in my old bedroom, the morning sun shining on a calendar that read September 15, 2024. My mother’s voice, warm and alive, called me for breakfast from downstairs. I was eighteen again, back in my senior year at Crestview Academy, and the monsters who destroyed me were still pretending to be my friends. This time, I’m the one who holds the shears./1/114474/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260528111127&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Arrogant Ex Is My Gaming Master
Grace finally decided to end her toxic, one-sided relationship with Adelbert, the arrogant heir to a global empire, by texting him to terminate their family trust. His response was a single, freezing word: "Done." When they accidentally bumped into each other in a law firm elevator, Adelbert looked right through her. "I don't know her," he stated coldly to his frat brothers, treating her like invisible trash. Humiliated and completely exhausted, Grace sought an escape in a brutal shooter game called PUBG. But by a sick twist of fate, the random matchmaking threw her into a squad with Adelbert's frat brothers and a god-tier, toxic player named 'Ø'. 'Ø' relentlessly mocked her terrible skills, humiliating her and calling her a "pig" over the voice chat. Yet, during the final shootout, this ruthless player suddenly threw his character in front of hers, taking a fatal barrage of bullets just to keep her alive. Grace soon uncovered the terrifying truth: the top-ranked 'Ø' was actually Adelbert himself. She was utterly confused and furious. Why would the untouchable billionaire who ignored her legal texts and publicly humiliated her suddenly sacrifice himself for her in a cheap video game? Refusing to swallow her pride in both the real and digital worlds, Grace sent a direct challenge to his gaming profile. "I'll prove I'm not a pig." Across the city, Adelbert stared at the notification, a dark smirk curling his lips, and clicked accept./0/81153/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106194929&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Beyond the Stuntman
Jack Riley, a top Hollywood stunt coordinator and a discreet civilian specialist for the Department of Defense, was heading to a classified flight. After six critical months away on a secret vehicle testing project, he' d left his multi-million dollar company, Riley's Precision Stunts, and his personal finances in the seemingly capable hands of his longtime fiancée, Brenda. He thought he could trust her with everything. However, his composure shattered on the freeway when a bright orange McLaren recklessly swerved, brake-checked him, and caused a violent collision. The driver, Kyle "King Kyle" Peterson, a preening social media pest, immediately started boasting about his "sugar mama" buying his six-figure supercar. The cold truth hit Jack: it was the exact McLaren Brenda had cooed about wanting for an anniversary gift – a gift he' d wisely refused. Then came the deeper blow: Kyle called Brenda, and her sickeningly sweet voice confirmed she was his "baby," mocking Jack and his truck, declaring it "worthless." She then shockingly attempted to have him "fired" from his own company, even bringing her imposing "assistants" to underscore her authority. Outsiders watched, openly judging Jack, thinking he was just some old, pathetic man. The sheer audacity of her betrayal churned in Jack' s gut. How could the woman he' d loved, the woman he' d empowered and trusted with his entire life' s work and fortune, not only be cheating but actively plundering his company and brazenly siding with a narcissistic opportunist against him, all while he' d been serving his country? The injustice was a suffocating weight. But Jack Riley was no ordinary man. A master of strategic thinking and quiet resilience, he decided then and there, amidst the chaos. He would play their twisted game, allowing them to dig their own graves. He' d meticulously expose every layer of deceit, beginning his calculated, devastating counter-attack that would reclaim everything they thought they' d stolen from him./0/85377/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106210015&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Code Monkey's Revenge
I poured five years of my life into Nexus, the social media giant, building its very soul from lines of code in my quiet apartment. The world knew my live-in boyfriend, Mark Davis, as the CEO of ConnectCorp, the charismatic face of our success, but they didn't know I was the genius behind the curtain. On the eve of our IPO, a critical server failure threatened to derail everything, which I, Ava Chen, single-handedly fixed, only for the doorbell to ring. It was Chloe Miller, my college rival and Mark' s new Head of Product, who sauntered in uninvited, her smile as sharp as her designer suit, to tell me my contract was "terminated, effective immediately." Fired? It was impossible, I was Nexus, the very heart of the company. My call to Mark rang once, then Chloe answered on another phone, locking eyes with me as she faked distress for her "call with Mark," accusing me of aggression. "You' re his mistress," the horrifying realization hit me with the force of a physical blow, confirmed by her cruel smirk and the photo of Mark and me she turned face down. Outside, a crowd of ConnectCorp employees gathered, pointing and whispering, eager witnesses to my public humiliation, confirming my worst fears. Then Mark' s car screeched up, and he stormed out, ignoring me to pull Chloe into a theatrical embrace before yelling, "What the hell did you do, Ava?" Before I could explain, his hand flew through the air, connecting with my cheek, the crack echoing through the silent street. The man I loved, the man I built an empire for, had just publicly slapped me for his mistress. "You' re just the code monkey who got replaced," he sneered, joining Chloe' s cruel laugh as the crowd cheered my downfall. It was in that moment, stripped of everything, that a cold, hard resolve solidified within me. When Mark, attempting a final insult, offered me our old, dilapidated apartment as severance, I grasped the USB holding Nexus' s un-uploaded core. "There' s your data," I declared, throwing the drive to their feet, forcing them to scramble like dogs. Then I walked out, leaving the life I built behind, burning it all down for a chance at true liberation./1/116508/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260528203256&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Shattered Vows: The Ex-Wife's Lethal Revenge
Chloe's husband handed her a brutal divorce agreement, stripping her of everything. "Sign it and get out," Carlisle ordered, his eyes like solid ice, declaring he had never loved her before tossing her aside for his mistress, Harper. Fleeing the penthouse, Chloe was relentlessly hunted down in the freezing rain. Harper's massive SUV rammed Chloe's sedan off a jagged coastal cliff, plunging her into the pitch-black Atlantic Ocean. She survived the abyss, but the crash shattered her face, requiring extensive reconstruction that completely erased the old Chloe. Six years later, the nightmare struck again. Her six-year-old son, Leo, lay dying from severe aplastic anemia. "We are out of time. His only chance of survival is a cord blood transplant from a matched sibling," the doctor announced. The sheer injustice of it burned a hole in her chest. Carlisle and Harper had thrown her away like disposable trash and tried to bury her at the bottom of the sea. Why did they get to live perfectly glamorous lives at the top of the world, while her innocent son gasped for his last breaths in a sterile hospital bed? To save Leo, she needed Carlisle's genes. Burying her striking new face behind thick glasses and shapeless gray suits, Chloe infiltrated his conglomerate as his drab, submissive new secretary. This time, she wasn't just surviving; she was returning to tear their perfect world apart./1/102898/coverorgin.jpg?v=20251224141738&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Career and Love Life Flourished after a Divorce
On the third day after my unexpected miscarriage, my husband, George Wood, brought home my stepsister, Savannah Ahmed. She was eight months pregnant. My stepmother, Julia Ahmed, said, "The Food family needs a child to continue the family legacy." My father added, "Clara, you must learn tolerance." When Savannah had an accident, George dragged me to the hospital and said, "We must save Savannah, even if we have to drain every last drop of Clara's blood. Clara, you should feel honored that you are still useful." George's cold words pierced through my heart. "You may leave now." I lay alone in the hospital corridor, waiting to die, but no one knew that I had already made a deal with George's most formidable rival, who was like a devil from hell./1/117916/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260601144034&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Rejection, Her Billionaire Engagement
My boyfriend of two years and I were a team. Both scholarship students, we pinched pennies and dreamed of a future we would build from nothing. I thought our love was real. Then I discovered he was cheating on me with my best friend. The truth was uglier: our entire relationship was just a cruel, two-year-long fraternity bet. I overheard him mocking me to his friends. "She's a gold-digger who didn't find the gold," he laughed. When I broke up with him, he retaliated by leaking our intimate photos, destroying my reputation and branding me a manipulative user. Betrayed and publicly shamed, I had lost everything. So I left town with a single suitcase. But my new life brought a shocking twist: I wasn't an orphan, but the long-lost heiress to a powerful family. At the gala celebrating my return, my ex crashed the party to beg for me back, only to watch in horror as the powerful CEO Cristian House got on one knee and asked me to be his wife./1/102429/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106222343&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Ocean's Grave To Queen
Fifteen years. That' s how long my fiancé, Blake, and I spent building our empire from nothing. On the night he was supposed to propose, a single phone call shattered our perfect future. He publicly abandoned me for a young art student, Hayleigh, who then framed me for violent attacks and faked a pregnancy to win his sympathy. The nightmare ended on a cliff's edge, where our rival forced a choice: save me, or save her. Blake screamed her name. Even my own birth parents, tech billionaires who had only just found me, chose her over their own flesh and blood. As I plunged into the icy ocean, I didn't understand. Why would the man I built a life with, and the family I just found, abandon me for a web of lies? They all thought I was dead. But two years later, I walked back into Miami, ready to take back my city and burn their world to the ground./1/109938/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260312155749&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Moment I Broke Off the Engagement, My Ex's Uncle Claimed Me
My grandmother died in a car accident. Ethan Griffin forced me to operate on his mistress, Tessa Langley's dog. At the family banquet, he looked down on me like a king. "Kneel and apologize to Tessa," Ethan said coldly. "Then I might forgive you." I, Nina Sterling, said nothing. In front of everyone, I lit the engagement contract and dropped the burning paper into a champagne glass, watching it curl into ashes. Then I turned and walked toward the man sitting in the corner in a wheelchair, Adrian Griffin, the one the Griffin family treated like their greatest disgrace. "Adrian," I said, bending slightly to meet his eyes. "Do you have the guts to gamble on this with me?" Ethan exploded in rage and lunged toward me. With a sharp click, the lighter in Adrian's hand snapped shut. He caught Ethan's wrist in a firm grip. Adrian lifted those dark, brooding eyes and spoke to Ethan in a voice that cut through the room. "Watch your manners. She's my wife."/1/102742/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106222528&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Ballerina's Vow: His Empire Will Burn
My husband, Alexander, systematically destroyed my career as a prima ballerina. For years, I was the star of the New York City Ballet, but he ensured every major award went to his mistresses. The final insult was watching him hand my Starlight Award to his latest plaything, Cassie. Then I discovered a truth far more monstrous. He had helped Cassie' s brother escape justice after brutally assaulting my fragile sister, Grace. For two years, he used Grace' s expensive medical care as leverage, holding her hostage to ensure my obedience while he paraded his affairs in my face. At a public gala, Cassie tormented my sister with the truth of her assault until Grace, broken and terrified, jumped from the rooftop to her death. In a desperate attempt to save her, I leaped after her into the abyss. I had endured everything for Grace. His cruelty, the public humiliation, the death of my career. Now she was gone, murdered by his twisted games. But I survived the fall. And as I lay in that hospital bed, I made a new vow. I wouldn't just get a divorce. I would gather the evidence, expose his crimes, and burn his entire empire to the ground./1/106653/coverorgin.jpg?v=f7debc7cb3f26bae7fb224d35bddc712&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Incubator No More: The Billionaire's Secret Heir
I sat in the VIP waiting room of the fertility clinic, clutching the report that confirmed my implantation was a success. After years of struggling, I finally had a reason to make my marriage with Garnett work. But when I went to find him in the lounge, I heard a woman’s laughter coming from behind the door. It was his mistress, Alison. I froze as I heard Garnett’s cold, dismissive voice. "She’s just an incubator." "Once the heir is born, we kick her out. The trust fund only requires a legitimate heir born to my wife. It doesn't require the wife to stick around afterwards." The betrayal went deeper than I could have imagined. I soon discovered the clinic had botched the procedure—the baby I was carrying wasn't even Garnett’s. It was donor sperm from Sterling Sharp, the most powerful tech mogul in the world. When my in-laws forced me to move into their estate for "monitoring," I realized I was entering a cage. Garnett and his mistress were paying the family doctor to inject me with hallucinogens to mimic a mental breakdown. They planned to declare me legally incompetent and commit me to an asylum the second I gave birth. I stood in the shadows of the East Wing, realizing my husband wasn't just stealing my child—he was trying to delete my mind. The people I called family were poisoning me daily, waiting for me to break so they could claim a legacy that wasn't even theirs. They wanted a madwoman, so I decided to give them one. I turned the doctor into my double agent, faked every symptom of a breakdown, and began building a secret empire from the shadows. Garnett thinks he’s trapped an incubator, but he’s actually locked himself in with a nuclear weapon./0/84439/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106204648&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Angel Who Burned: A Small Town's Inferno
Sarah Miller was the epitome of small-town success: valedictorian, destined for a full scholarship at State University, a beacon of hope. Everyone in our tight-knit community called her an angel, a ray of sunshine, always with a bright smile. Just hours after delivering a graduation speech full of dreams, she was supposed to be celebrating with friends and family. But as the community hall burned, its roof collapsing in a fiery roar, Sarah stood across the street, motionless, her face illuminated by the inferno. The smell of burning wood, and something else, something sickening, filled the air, as sparks flew like angry fireflies. When Officer Kowski grabbed her arm, she showed no fear, only an unsettling calm, soot smeared on her hands. Then, she whispered the chilling words: "They all deserved to die." Her parents, reeling from disbelief, watched their daughter admit to mass murder, their tears mingling with raw, ragged pain. The town, still mourning their "heroes"-Pastor David, Mr. Henderson-couldn't reconcile the angelic Sarah with the monster she confessed to being. Her subsequent suicide attempt in her cell only deepened the mystery, pills traced back to Henderson's private stash. The discovery of burned journal fragments suggested hidden truths, a desperate, unspoken anguish. What unspeakable evil could turn a scholarship-bound valedictorian into a mass murderer? How could the very men lauded as benefactors, who "loved her like their own daughter," inspire such cold, vengeful fire? The town saw kindness and support, but Sarah' s hollow whisper of "Care?" hinted at an unimaginable betrayal. What dark secret did this 'angel' carry, hidden beneath years of forced smiles and perfect grades? Then, Sarah finally shattered the silence, not with tears, but with a guttural scream: "They deserved it! They all deserved it!" And the terrifying, heartbreaking story, a torrent of buried pain, began to pour out, revealing the true horrors lurking beneath their idyllic small town./1/108061/coverorgin.jpg?v=30cc17b28487e4afc530d7ddcb2dfe21&imageMogr2/format/webp)
