Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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Rise Of The Despised Heiress
Ade had sacrificed the life she loved, the things she liked doing to please James. But it was never enough for him. Somehow, the one woman he just couldn't get, was the price, she was the gem. And so once the opportunity presented itself, Ade became a past chapter of his life. A reject. Betrayed and scorned, Ade is on a quest to reclaim her life back and face off adversaries. But now what is she to do with the two men in front of her. One of them her ex James who can't seem to forget her and keeps stepping in her way, and the other, a billionaire who wants her at all costs./1/120743/coverorgin.jpg?v=6102e0cecbab7ae24aa0d7efe7aecaad&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Dead Ex-Wife's Spectacular Surgeon Comeback
For five years, Adaline Sinclair loved her billionaire husband Julian Thorne with an all-consuming passion, rearranging her entire world just to please him. But on his thirtieth birthday, while she waited until midnight with a handmade cake, he was photographed intimately dining with a famous socialite. When he finally arrived home smelling of sweet perfume and whiskey, he didn't even glance at the dinner she had carefully prepared. Instead, he looked at her with his familiar, dismissive coldness. "Don't play this devoted wife game. It doesn't suit you." He cruelly mocked her family's failing business and reminded her that their marriage was nothing more than a sterile business contract. With her final ember of hope brutally extinguished, Adaline hacked the birthday cake to pieces, threw a signed divorce agreement on the table, and walked out into the night. A month later, her yacht caught fire and sank into the gray Atlantic waters, leaving behind only her warped platinum wedding ring. Julian knelt on the cold sand, roaring in pure agony as his world ended. He had spent years pushing her away and treating her like a nuisance, only to realize too late that he had completely destroyed the only woman who ever truly loved him. But he didn't know that Adaline wasn't actually dead. Five years later, she returned to New York not as a broken wife, but as Dr. Elara Vance, a world-renowned surgeon with two genius children. This time, she was only here to save her dying aunt, and she swore she would never let Julian Thorne drag her back into his hell./0/86327/coverorgin.jpg?v=be1c3e908f18abdd45af365dfceacfe4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Uncle's Reckoning
Young billionaire Geoffrey Smith had it all-until the night his family was torn apart by betrayal and murder by none other than his favorite uncle, Danny Gayle. Blinded and broken, he vanishes, only to return eight years later with a new identity–Carlton Jaz, an intellectual man driven by vengeance. But amid the web of deceit lies a love he had been waiting to embrace his whole life-with Tiana Banks, the girl who saved him with the M3 vaccine the night he was supposed to be killed by a dangerous chemical weapon. Unbeknownst to him, Tiana Banks is right in front of him, working in the same company, but neither recognizes the other as they now look different from eight years ago and now have new identities. Worse still, an accident robs Carlton of his memory just as he uncovers Tiana's new identity as Mia. The storm between love, loyalty, and revenge reaches its breaking point. With billionaire heir, Roy Meyers hell-bent on making Mia his woman, she battles her own heart while Carlton fights to reclaim the life, love, and justice stolen from him. In a world where secrets are inevitable, betrayals, the order of the day, and love the ultimate test, will Carlton triumph?-Or will he lose his love as a price for revenge? A tale of love, power, betrayal, and redemption, 'The Uncle's Reckoning' is a gripping saga of endurance and determination where every choice could mean triumph-or tragedy./0/84137/coverorgin.jpg?v=ff76ed41a22013f073c55df9dc4e8b8c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Silent Liberator
The Hugheses' estate shimmered with white roses and sunlight, a picture-perfect setting for Caleb' s wedding. I stood at the edge of the manicured lawn, a single dark spot in a sea of pastel suits. He was marrying a kind schoolteacher named Nicole, a carefully chosen part of the gilded cage his adoptive parents had built around him. I just looked past them, toward the white tent where Caleb stood, a stranger in his expensive tuxedo. He looked like the town' s beloved veterinarian, the perfect son. But I knew the real Caleb, the boy who hid under flimsy beds in the foster home, the one who dreamed of the ocean. As he cut the cake, I slipped through the guests, a quiet shadow. I leaned in close, lips beside his ear. "It' s okay to be you." For a terrifying second, nothing happened. Then, his entire body went rigid. The polite smile shattered like porcelain. He snatched the cake knife and lunged, stabbing Nicole repeatedly. Blood bloomed across her white dress, turning the perfect wedding into a scene of horror. They took Caleb, catatonic, and me, silent. Detective Stevens looked at me, weary and cynical. "You whispered something in his ear, and he butchered his new bride. What did you say?" I stayed silent. They called me a witch, a puppet master, a monster. I watched Nicole' s parents weep on TV, calling for my arrest, and felt a deep, hollow ache for them, for her. No one understood. Five years later, the Hugheses announced Caleb' s "recovery" and a grand welcome-home party, on the anniversary of the wedding. They were putting him back in his cage, this time with reinforced bars. I knew it was time. I pulled out the navy dress./0/99155/coverorgin.jpg?v=cf694b6d77c28af5d78f0e14d2e293d1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Heiress Betrayed: My Sweet Revenge Wedding
For seven years, I hid my identity as a wealthy heiress to be with my boyfriend, Ewing. I followed him across the country and made myself small so he could feel big. On Thanksgiving, he ditched our celebration for his first love, Bree, who supposedly had a "burst pipe." Later, she posted an intimate selfie with him, calling him her "hero." Then she sent me a video of him at a bar, laughing with his friends. "She's just being dramatic," he slurred, smirking at the camera. "A new necklace and she'll forget all about it. She's easy." Easy. Seven years of my life, my love, my sacrifice-all reduced to that one word. I realized I was never his partner. I was just a placeholder. I didn't cry. I packed my bags, booked a one-way flight to New York, and sent him one final text before blocking his number. "Don't bother coming home. I'm getting married."/1/120274/coverorgin.jpg?v=5f300b789b9c1876c1d6ee3a9c80c8e4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Divorcing The Cold Heir: Watch Me Rise
Elena Bailey’s marriage to billionaire heir Barrett Harding had never been a love story. It was a cold arrangement wrapped in diamonds, a beautiful ceremony with no marriage inside it. After months abroad, Barrett returned to New York with a lavish yacht party, champagne, cameras, and socialites hanging on his arm. Everyone knew the Harding heir was back. Everyone except his wife. When Barrett finally came home, he treated Elena like an unwanted inconvenience. At a formal family dinner, he humiliated her in front of his parents, and they watched with cold approval, as if his wife were worth less than the servants who whispered about her behind her back. Then, later that night, he pulled over beside a dark highway exit, unclipped her seatbelt, and ordered her out of his car so he could go meet another woman. That was when Elena finally stopped begging for a marriage that had never existed. But one question refused to leave her alone. If the Hardings despised her so much, why had they insisted Barrett marry her in the first place? When Elena confronted her mother-in-law, the always-composed Eleanor Harding finally cracked. “Name your price, Elena. How much will it take for you to sign the NDA and disappear quietly?” Then Eleanor pushed an eight-figure check across the table. Elena looked at the money and understood the truth. She had never been the lucky orphan who married into power. She had been chosen. Used. Buried inside a secret rotten enough to terrify one of New York’s most untouchable families. So Elena walked away from the money, ordered her lawyer to serve the divorce papers, and made herself a promise. She would uncover the truth. And when she was done, the Harding empire would burn./0/81947/coverorgin.jpg?v=c5ade4668c4c4f3ec498b8016cb7fd6a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Thanksgiving Takedown
My parents' murder left me an empty shell, and my fiancée's abandonment poured salt on the wound. I was drowning. Then, at their funeral, a lifeline appeared: my ex-fiancée's sister, Detective Sarah Davis, publicly proposed, vowing to bring their killers to justice. I said yes, desperately clutching onto her promise. Five years passed. The case grew cold. My world crumbled again when I overheard Sarah, my wife, deliberately stonewalling leads. The killer? Michael Vance, my ex's new husband. My blood ran cold as I heard Sarah pledge to do "anything to protect him," revealing a sickening loyalty that twisted my insides. The truth hit me like a physical blow: my marriage was a calculated performance, every comforting word a lie. She wasn't just covering up; she was protecting my parents' killer, actively erasing me from their family's narrative. How could the woman I trusted betray me so utterly for the man who destroyed my life? After she physically attacked me to shield Michael during a Thanksgiving blow-up – publicly choosing him over me – I knew what I had to do. I systematically gathered irrefutable evidence of their conspiracy, faked my own death, and set the wheels of justice in motion from the shadows. Now, 'Ethan Miller' is dead, but the man he was lives to see justice served, on his own terms./0/84450/coverorgin.jpg?v=d10556cdb717cc794ef41369a7c94e60&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Fiancée's Double Life: I Chose to Disappear
My fiancée, Jocelyn, lost her memory in a skiing accident three months ago. At least, that's what she told me. She conveniently forgot all seven years of our life together, but no one else. I spent my life savings on neurologists, desperate to bring back the woman I loved. Then, one evening, I overheard her on a speakerphone call with her best friend. "It's just a summer fling to get it out of my system," she laughed. "Ethan's my endgame, but he's a little boring. He'll be waiting like a sad puppy when I'm done playing." My blood ran cold. The sleepless nights, the pain, the constant worry-it was all a joke to her. Her friend asked what she would do if I ever found out and tried to leave. Jocelyn's reply was chilling. "He's not going anywhere. He's mine. If he tried to leave, I'd find him and lock him up so he could never escape." I realized our entire history was a lie. I wasn't her partner; I was her property. A safe bet she could put on a shelf while she had her fun. My suffering wasn't a tragedy to her; it was the price of her entertainment. That night, I didn't cry. I booked a one-way ticket to the other side of the world. Then, I walked into the courthouse and filed a petition to legally change my name. She wanted to play a game? Fine. Let's play hide and seek./1/124185/coverorgin.jpg?v=fc3cf2defbbd0121472f4d15fb882347&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Came Back Hotter With The Heir's Love
Three-year-old Adria Carlisle was dragged out of a warm car into the freezing rain by her father, Herman Rich. He shoved her small body into the mud outside a dilapidated orphanage, stuffing a crumpled fifty-dollar bill into her teddy bear. "From today on, you don't have a father," he said coldly. He abandoned her in the storm just to steal the Carlisle family's vast fortune for his own wife and daughter. For seventeen years, Herman erased Adria's existence, officially declaring her dead in a tragic accident. Using her stolen inheritance, he elevated his biological daughter, Dolores, to the dazzling heights of New York high society. He even arranged for Dolores to marry Hudson Davenport, the ruthless king of the city's financial empire. Dolores was about to take Adria's rightful place in an ancient, ironclad marriage contract between the two powerful families. Did Herman really think a fabricated death could bury the truth forever? Did Dolores truly believe that stolen wealth and a stolen fiancé could belong to her without any consequences? On the day of the grand wedding, just as the priest asked if anyone objected, the heavy oak doors of the ballroom were thrown open. Adria Carlisle, now a terrifyingly powerful figure, walked down the aisle with the original contract in hand. "I'm not here to cause trouble," she announced to the stunned crowd. "I'm just here to take back what's mine. Including this wedding, and the groom."/0/85858/coverorgin.jpg?v=2b039051a6ed837cac269f721325ff76&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Unraveling A Family's Poison
The soft glow of fairy lights was supposed to mark a perfect first birthday for our daughter, Lily, in the grand living room of the Vance mansion. Then the front door burst open, and in walked Brenda, the nanny we' d just fired, her face a mask of bitter resentment. "Quite the party," she sneered, "A party for my granddaughter." My husband, Liam, stiffened beside me, while I tried to process her insane claim: granddaughter? "Brenda, what are you doing here?" I asked, my voice shaking slightly. "You need to leave. Now." "This is my son' s house, after all," she declared, pointing at Liam, "Liam is my son. My long-lost son." My mind reeled at the absurdity, as she brazenly twisted reality. She then called me a "gold digger" and the "help," her words dripping with venom. Before I could even respond, her hand shot out, slapping me across the face with a painful crack. Liam roared, grabbing her, "Don' t you ever touch my wife again! Get out of my house!" But Brenda simply smiled, unhinged, before her son Ethan and his thuggish friends appeared, a silent, menacing reinforcement. "This is my real family," she declared, "And we' re here to stay." She pulled out a faded photo of herself with a young Richard Vance, Liam's father, announcing, "This is the proof! Richard was there, he knows the truth!" She spun a wild tale of a secret baby swap at the hospital, claiming Richard stole Liam from her. Then, Eleanor Vance, Liam' s formidable grandmother, descended the stairs, proclaiming, "Brenda is telling the truth. Liam, she is your birth mother." She denounced my mother-in-law, Lisa, as "too plain" and "not our kind," commanding Liam to "honor your true mother." She dismissed my marriage, declaring, "This family needs a proper heir, from a proper woman!" My plea for a DNA test was met with her furious command, "You will be silent! You are a guest in this house, and you have no standing here!" Eleanor then turned to Brenda, giving her an order, "Put her in her place!" As Ethan and his friends pinned Liam, Brenda advanced on me, her eyes gleaming. She slapped me again, harder, sending me crashing to the floor, my wrist screaming in pain. Lily' s terrified wail pierced the air, and Brenda snapped, "Shut that brat up." My blood ran cold as she approached my daughter, pulling a dark vial from her pocket. She forced a few drops of dark liquid onto Lily' s tongue, casually stating, "It' s just a little something to help her sleep." Lily' s cries choked off, her body went limp, eyes fluttering shut. A primal, icy fear seized me; my daughter was silent, still./1/114486/coverorgin.jpg?v=7581e06e766ca0bc6631695233ea72b5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Broken Voice, My Undeniable Power
The camera flashes felt like a firing squad, dragging me back to the night I lost my baby five years ago. My husband, Faron, sat in the front row, his hand on his mistress Kassie’s thigh, utterly ignoring my public humiliation. This was the thirtieth time he’d made me a joke, and it would be the last. For three years, I played the dutiful Blackwell wife, shielding Faron from his endless affairs. At a press conference, a reporter’s question about his yacht booking with Kassie shattered my facade. Faron, smiling at his mistress, completely ignored me. The last filter I viewed him through instantly shattered. Later, Kassie deliberately spilled champagne on me at a gala. Faron, instead of helping, tenderly wiped it from her. She hissed, "Faron said you just lay there. Fucking you is like fucking a dead fish." This venomous taunt, after thirty public betrayals, snapped my sanity. Chained by my mother-in-law's threats, my pain was expected. My silence demanded. But I was finally done. With a cold, empty void, I slammed the folder shut. I dropped the family crest. "Have a wonderful evening, Faron," I said, turning and walking out. I left him and his suffocating charade behind./0/82260/coverorgin.jpg?v=75184434baf2eadf81fb1d6fbd4a64ee&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Ninth Life: Breaking Free
I' d died eight times already, each a brutal end, all thanks to Caroline Hawthorne. Now, I was on my ninth life, cold in a dusty attic room, a flat digital voice repeating its impossible command inside my head: "Secure Caroline Hawthorne's genuine, exclusive romantic devotion." But this wasn' t just about winning her love; it was about survival itself. This time, the System' s chilling ultimatum echoed with no emotion: "Failure in this iteration will result in permanent dissolution." No more chances. My tormentor, Caroline, then entered, pregnant with her fiancé Derek' s child, and immediately imposed her latest cruelty: I was demoted to the gardener' s shed, while Derek' s prize-winning show dog got my warm room. She kicked me. Memories of my past deaths, stark and agonizing, flooded me: freezing in a wine cellar, drowning after being pushed overboard, a shank in prison, botched medical procedures where she watched me bleed out. I' d endured skin grafts from my own thigh because Derek faked an injury, been forced into life-threatening blood transfusions for his "recovery," and suffered public humiliation at her hands. Her blind devotion to Derek was absolute, her cruelty towards me boundless. I was broken, tired of the endless loop of torture and failure. Why did I have to suffer endless agony for a devotion she clearly didn't deserve, a woman who treated me as less than human? I just wanted it all to end, for oblivion to claim me. My silence became defiance against her rage. That yearning for freedom, once a desperate wish for death, hardened into something cold and resolute: revenge. If the System demanded her "devotion," or her "permanent removal from the equation," then I would choose freedom. After her last threat-to harm the only person who cared for me-I knew what I had to do. This time, I wouldn't just survive; I would ensure her downfall, and finally, truly break free./0/83668/coverorgin.jpg?v=a520f41e2ac067809d61061083c7fcd6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Unstoppable Brilliance: She Has The World On A Leash
Hidden for years by the state despite a fortune worth billions, Grace bounced through three foster homes. At her fourth stop, the wealthy Holden family showered her with care, sparking spiteful claims she was a despicable grifter. Those lies died when a university president greeted her. "Professor, your lab's ready." A top CEO presented a folder. "Boss, our profits soared by 300% this year!" An international hacker organization came to her doorstep. "The financial market would crash without you!" Colton, a mysterious tycoon, pinned her softly. "Fun's over. Let's go make some babies." Grace's cheeks flared. "I didn't agree to that!" He slid a black card into her hand. "One island per baby."/1/117302/coverorgin.jpg?v=10e28b171ab3e6dc7c1eca9a542d2bc2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Billionaire's Runaway Genius Heiress Fiancee
For years, Annabell was treated like the dirt beneath the Richmond family's shoes, forced to endure their arrogance while the favored daughter, Carisa, was handed the world. When Annabell slammed a financial report on the desk, exposing that the family's offshore accounts were completely empty, they didn't thank her. Instead, Julian tried to strike her, and Carisa played the weeping victim. Ethan Richmond pointed a trembling finger at the door, stripping Annabell of every cent and throwing her out into the freezing rain. "You are done in this house! You get nothing!" They sneered, expecting her to crawl back and beg on the streets, mocked by the entire elite circle as worthless trash. They thought she was just a helpless orphan with nothing left to her name. They had no idea that the quiet girl they just discarded was the financial genius who secretly controlled all their leverage trading codes. Annabell didn't shed a single tear. She calmly signed the inheritance renunciation, walked out, and froze 80% of the Richmonds' assets with a single keystroke. And just as her former family prepared to watch her starve, a convoy of armored Range Rovers pulled up. The patriarch of the ultra-wealthy Dixon family stepped out with tears in his eyes, handing over deeds to Manhattan skyscrapers. The true billionaire heiress had finally returned, and New York's hierarchy was about to be violently rewritten./0/82573/coverorgin.jpg?v=ffc35c8a8b1fc54c3c65fce4114af265&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Sweet Poison, Cold Revenge
My sorority sister, Brittany, always seemed like the perfect friend – sweet, glamorous, always ready with a helpful suggestion. But that sweetness was a lie, a poison. It started with a phony survey, then quickly escalated. My SSN, my bank details, all stolen overnight for a "$3,000 loan" I never truly asked for. That loan spiraled to $9,000, and soon, Brittany' s "help" forced me into something far darker – an "escort service" tied to her family's hidden cruelties. The fabricated photos, the rumors, the shame – it all broke my parents. Their car crash, the one that erased them from my life, was no accident. It was the crushing weight of their daughter' s fabricated ruin, orchestrated by the girl who smiled in my face. My rage burned even hotter than the fire in my gut when I finally collapsed, only to realize, in that fleeting moment between life and oblivion, the bitter truth: their entire scheme was illegal. Unenforceable. A sham. Knowledge that came too late. They stole everything: my future, my family, even my last breath. But then, my eyes snapped open. I was back. September 14th. The day it all began, the day Brittany first whispered about that loan. And this time, she wouldn' t just trick me. This time, I knew her game. Every single move. My blood ran cold as her sugary voice called from the door. "Kayla? You in there?" The nightmare was vivid, but so was my resolve. She thought I was an easy mark. She thought wrong. This time, I' m the one setting the trap./1/118710/coverorgin.jpg?v=14c6ae250ec806a7b5d13fd8e575f1fb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Late For The Billionaire's Regret
I was happily preparing to tell Harlan, my lover of five years, that I was pregnant with our child. But when I pushed open his study door, I heard him ordering the ruthless liquidation of my father's company. He wasn't just my family's head of security; he was Harlan Sinclair, a Wall Street predator. He threw a hostile takeover agreement at my feet and sneered that the baby in my belly was a bastard. "Take the money, get rid of that child, and get out of my sight forever." My best friend Kali had forged a DNA report and drugged me to steal him, and he believed every word. Stumbling out into the pouring rain, I was violently struck by a speeding truck. As my blood pooled on the wet asphalt and my baby's life slipped away, Kali stepped out of a luxury SUV just to smile at my agony. Later, in a grim underground clinic, a fake nurse raised a lethal syringe to finish the job. I didn't understand how five years of deep love could be shattered by a single cheap lie. I understood even less how the man who once swore to protect me could so coldly condemn our unborn child to death. Rescued by my father's loyal guards at the last possible second, I vanished into the shadows. Four years later, I stepped off a private jet in New York. The naive, broken Cora was dead; I had returned to make them all crawl./1/117615/coverorgin.jpg?v=5f58001e903e231f28a1f8a07453d879&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn From Ashes: The Obsessive CEO's Claim
My fiancé took me to an abandoned warehouse for what he called a private surprise proposal. There was no ring. Only champagne laced with drugs, my adoptive sister stepping out of the shadows, and the sound of them laughing while I collapsed at their feet. Ethan told me I had never been his choice. I was only the obedient foster daughter the family needed for a merger. Seraphina was the woman he loved. The woman he had always loved. Then he told me my brother Julian was dead because of him. A staged truck accident. A convenient tragedy. One less person standing between them and everything they wanted. By the time the truth finally sank in, the warehouse was soaked in gasoline, my body was failing, and the family I had spent my life trying to please had already buried me in their minds. So I stopped begging. I struck a lighter. If they wanted a funeral, I would give them one. The flames took the warehouse, my sister, and me with it. Then I opened my eyes. I was back in my bedroom. Seven days before the betrayal. Seven days before Ethan would try to murder me. Seven days before everyone who had used me would learn that the girl they buried had come back wrong. My phone rang. Hayes Decker. The ruthless Wall Street billionaire. The man powerful families feared, banks obeyed, and enemies disappeared beneath. The man whose obsessive marriage proposal I had once laughed off because I thought Ethan was my future. This time, I answered. His voice was cold, possessive, and dangerously calm. "Marry me, Aria." In my last life, I called him insane. In this one, I smiled. "Yes," I said. "Come get me right now." I was not running to him for love. I was choosing the only monster in New York terrifying enough to help me destroy the ones who killed me. But Hayes Decker did not want a temporary alliance. He wanted me. Body, soul, name, future. And the most dangerous part? The longer he burned the world for me, the harder it became to remember that I had only meant to use him./0/85389/coverorgin.jpg?v=91d3996bad4f95bf3cf0cb7afe324c64&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Revenge Wears a Wedding Ring
The sterile scent of antiseptic always brought me back. It was the smell of my last death – broken and bleeding in a dark alley. But this time, I wasn\'t dying; I was walking into Senator Maxwell' s garden party, my husband, Professor Ethan Thorne, adjusting his tie beside me. To the world, he was a rising academic star. To me, he was my future murderer. Just hours ago, in a lifetime I' d miraculously escaped, his accomplices left me for dead after his brilliant scheme to have his lover, Holly Summers, "save" the Senator' s granddaughter backfired, permanently disfiguring little Lily Maxwell. His last words echoed in my mind, "Make sure she doesn' t talk." I\'d loved him, trusted him with my life, and he' d thrown it all away for power and wealth. Now, he asked, his smile perfectly crafted but his eyes calculating, "Liv, are you ready? Holly is already in the garden." He saw his naive wife, the talented musician. He couldn\'t see the ghost in my eyes, the cold resolve that now fueled me. He had no idea he was looking at the woman who would orchestrate his ruin. I had been given a second chance. Not for love, not for happiness, but for justice. The game had just been reset, but this time, I was writing the rules./1/114017/coverorgin.jpg?v=038fd605a3e752a280af36f880f3acdb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Heart That Gave Up, Found Its Way
My husband stood me up on the biggest night of my career—my first solo art exhibition. I found him on the news, shielding another woman from a storm of cameras while the entire gallery watched my world collapse. His text was a final, cold slap in the face: "Kacie needs me. You'll be fine." For years, he'd called my art a "hobby," forgetting it was the foundation of his billion-dollar company. He had made me invisible. So I called my lawyer with a plan to use his arrogance against him. "Make the divorce papers look like a boring IP release form," I told her. "He'll sign anything to get me out of his office."/1/100720/coverorgin.jpg?v=bff26f621647b9443114206b14c00e4d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
