Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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He Wanted 50/50, She Took 100%
My six-figure tech career was just wiped out, leaving me, four months pregnant, vulnerable and reeling. But nothing prepared me for the chilling "family budget meeting" called by my husband, Kevin, and his mother, Brenda. They proposed a draconian 50/50 split of every expense, from utilities to groceries, and even my pregnancy and delivery costs. Worse, they demanded I pay Brenda $2,500 monthly for her non-existent "household management" services, effectively turning her into a tenant I funded. Then Kevin delivered the gut punch: any extra cost for a C-section would be "my body's issue," my financial responsibility alone. My stomach churned, not from morning sickness, but from the chilling realization that my husband and his mother saw me not as a partner or a parent, but as a walking ATM and a mere incubator. The air in the room felt toxic. My entire being, my baby, my potential medical needs-all reduced to heartless figures on a spreadsheet. How could the man I loved, the father of my child, and his own mother, demonstrate such ruthless greed and absolute disregard for my well-being? Every hidden red flag from our relationship now screamed in my ear. They watched me, triumphant smiles on their faces, as I calmly agreed to their outrageous terms. But they had no idea. They wanted to play with spreadsheets? Fine. A cold, steel clarity washed over me. The deal wasn't off; it was just about to be rewritten – by me./0/85892/coverorgin.jpg?v=b492e7b511ee0f34cf1f3a5603142533&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Betrayed By Love, Reborn In Vengeance
The biting cold was the last thing I felt, a numbing seeping into my bones as I lay dying in our remote mountain cabin. My husband, Mark, had left me here to freeze and starve, locking the door and cutting the phone line, his eyes devoid of any love. He did it for my groundbreaking eco-city designs, which he planned to steal and present as his own, aided by my own sister, Chloe. I had confronted them, screaming and crying, showing them the printed evidence of their betrayal, but Mark merely looked at me with terrifying calmness. "You can't prove anything, Ava," he' d said, "It's your word against mine. And Chloe's." Then, like a fool clinging to the last sliver of hope, I had agreed to his suggestion of a trip to the cabin to "talk things out." The same cabin where he' d previously dismissed our miscarriage as "bad timing," letting our baby die for his ambition and covering his tracks with Chloe's scent. Now, shivering under a flimsy blanket, my fingers numb, all I could think of was the hidden hard drive containing irrefutable proof of their treachery. But what good was it? I was about to be just another tragic story, while they would have everything. Then, a sudden, violent jolt. My eyes snapped open. I wasn't in the cabin. The air was warm, stuffy, and smelled of stale coffee. I was at my desk at the firm. It was two weeks before the confrontation, before the blizzard, before my death. Impossible. A dream? A hallucination? Yet, it was undeniably real. A miracle. I was back. And this time, there would be no foolish hope. No direct confrontation. A slow, cold smile spread across my face. Mark and Chloe thought they could destroy me. They were about to find out how wrong they were. This time, I' d be setting the trap. This was for revenge./1/103413/coverorgin.jpg?v=2abe4a2a946a4f844fd4f2597b1b6c55&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Her Vengeful Heart: Dangerously In Love With The Dark Prince
Five years ago, my fiancé and stepsister murdered my parents and stole our fortune, leaving me-eight months pregnant-to die. Now I'd returned under a new identity, hiding my beauty and marrying into the richest family. People whispered that I'd soon be cast out, but when I shed my disguise, layer after layer of my true self stunned everyone. My ex-fiancé's family crumbled, and he begged on his knees for mercy. My husband, powerful in both business and the underworld, pulled me close and declared to my ex, "Do you really think my wife needs your love?" Headlines revealed: I was his true love all along. My stepsister's face contorted with fury as she shrieked, "What are you so smug about? You're just a stand-in! Once his true love comes back, you'll be the town's laughingstock, just like I am!"/0/83702/coverorgin.jpg?v=ec7e029482bde83d5bd7da538af466dd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Royalty Trap: How I Beat My Killer Brother
My brother, Derek, stood smirking by our dying father' s bed, demanding the records. He thought he was outsmarting me, believing they held the map to the fortune I' d made in my first life. I just shrugged, letting him snatch what he believed was the jackpot, while I "foolishly" accepted our dilapidated, lien-ridden house. He gloated, flashing his new sports car, convinced he was a millionaire. Meanwhile, debt collectors were banging on my door, threatening to seize the property Derek thought was worthless anyway. He laughed in my face, bragging about the fake demo tapes he'd dug up and sold for a fortune. I knew he was about to crash and burn, just like last time. But the injustice still burned. In my first life, his greed and jealousy didn' t just ruin him; they led him to murder me in cold blood. I remembered every detail, every agonizing second of his betrayal. But this time, I wasn't the naive fool. This time, I' d come prepared. Because when I opened my eyes again, waking up right here, at Dad's bedside, I knew exactly what was coming – and exactly what I needed to do./0/75098/coverorgin.jpg?v=035c2d5dd65c1ab7ce40a6ebbaf27f33&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Abandoned But Unbroken: No More Begging For A Place
A tragic accident left Clara orphaned. Taken in by the Curtis family, she grew up pampered by Declan, their powerful head, mistaking his indulgence for love. That illusion shattered two years ago at her lavish birthday, when a drunken kiss earned her a slap and harsh words. "Who do you think you are?" Only then did Clara realize she was nothing more than a treasured pet, not a beloved woman. When she was diagnosed with terminal cancer, Declan flaunted his affair and forced her to date. The day she left for good, he finally snapped, "You want to leave? I don't agree!"/1/117336/coverorgin.jpg?v=57c6ff254903b383f98366cf47084fff&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Ninety Days Left: The Dying Wife's Revenge
The doctor gave Tessa exactly ninety days to live before her failing organs completely shut down. Stepping out of the clinic, her phone buzzed with a photo from her husband's mistress showing his custom watch on tangled hotel sheets. "Last night was exhausting. He really does not like going home to you, does he?" For three years, Tessa had been treated like a ghost while Lucian showered Vanessa with endless devotion. The cruelty peaked when Vanessa brazenly stole Tessa's masterpiece painting. When Tessa tried to stop the theft, Lucian ordered his bodyguards to pin his sick wife against the wall. "Are you trying to extort more money by staging an assault?" He threw a five-million-dollar check at her face and escorted his mistress away, leaving Tessa collapsing on the floor in physical agony. Why should Vanessa have everything—the love, the health, the future—while Tessa was left to die in pain and utter humiliation? She refused to fade away quietly. She altered their prenup to demand a three-hundred-million-dollar divorce settlement and used his limitless black card to hire the city's most expensive male escort, completely unaware the masked man she bought was her own furious husband in disguise. At the grand society gala, as Vanessa basked in the applause for the stolen artwork, Tessa stepped into the spotlight and held up a silver USB drive./0/82607/coverorgin.jpg?v=8c139ed2cbeae9354d2b288cb22b82a7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Wife's Hidden Fortune
The phone rang near midnight, a jarring sound that sliced through the quiet of my small apartment, a familiar dread seizing me before I even picked up. It was the hospital, informing me my brilliant, valedictorian son, Alex, had been in an accident while working a late-night delivery shift, ending the call with the words no parent should ever hear: "He didn't make it." My world shattered, I rushed to City General, only to stumble upon a scene that made the grief even more unbearable: my seemingly frugal wife, Jessica, in a shimmering gown, showering a stranger's son with a luxury car and a downtown loft at a lavish hotel party. The horrifying realization crashed over me: the "stranger's son," Jake, was the hit-and-run driver who killed Alex, and Jessica knew, choosing to protect him, the child of her old flame, over our own son. At Alex's somber burial, as his small casket was lowered, Jessica abandoned us, rushing off because Jake had a "migraine," her tire crushing the simple flowers our neighbor laid at Alex's graveside. My grief twisted into a cold, unyielding rage, the agony in my chest mirroring the gnawing pain in my gut, later diagnosed as terminal cancer, a life worn down by sacrifices she never needed to make. How could the woman I loved, the partner I trusted for two decades, have maintained such a monstrous charade, building a fortune while we barely scraped by, all for another man and his son? With nothing left but a few months to live, I walked away from the city, from the lies, but the story wasn't over for Jessica, whose own dark quest for atonement was just beginning./0/63991/coverorgin.jpg?v=eccc335572ae0a6ce2629fe0cd76c151&imageMogr2/format/webp)
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When Innocence Masks Deceit
The memory was seared into my brain. The stale air of the abandoned warehouse, the terrified breathing of the hostage, and the shrill, righteous voice of rookie Emily Davis. That was my first life, a life that ended in disgrace because of her. Emily insisted she could calm the kidnapper, disregarding my direct order to stay put. She broke formation, stepped into the open, and a single gunshot echoed. Chris Walker, a college kid with his whole life ahead of him, slumped to the floor. Then, Emily started to cry, loud, gut-wrenching wails, as if she were the biggest victim. Our colleagues rushed to her side, offering sympathy while I stared at the cooling body of Chris Walker. My rage, cold and hard, filled my chest. "You wanted to help? You got him killed. You broke every rule in the book." Emily looked up, her face a mask of tear-streaked innocence. "Why are you so mean, Sarah? I was just trying to save a life." She theatrically banged her head against the wall, whimpering, "It should have been me!" Lieutenant Miller, my superior, cradled her like a child, then turned his cold eyes on me. "Jenkins, what the hell is wrong with you? Can't you see she's suffering?" The department needed a scapegoat. The media was having a field day, and it was easier to blame the cold, no-nonsense veteran, Sarah Jenkins, than the sweet, innocent rookie who "just wanted to help." They threw me to the wolves. My career was ruined, my name was mud. I died with that weight on my soul. Until I opened my eyes. The same stale air. The same sense of dread. I was back in the warehouse, moments before everything went wrong. Emily Davis was repeating the exact same words, getting ready to make the same fatal mistake. But not this time./0/35676/coverorgin.jpg?v=8a1d88479e36be06bc38c21689610233&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Love and Letters (Ari and Sebastian's Story)
In school, she is the brightest, most cheerful girl you'll ever meet. The one who was lucky enough to be one of the boys. But Ari has held secrets her entire life; the darkness of her home life, and the fact that she has been in love with her best friend David for years. Those were hidden within her heart, locked even from her closest friends...until she lost a diary. One by one, her treasured secrets started spilling out, and her other best friend Sebastian, the one who was being forced to marry her, seems to be in on it./0/80417/coverorgin.jpg?v=80a6dffeda70604a6ad0c079f3319aa4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
After My Death, His Sight Returned
The October chill was nothing compared to the silence of my house as I returned from Alaska, desperate for my daughter, Sophia. "Sophia... there was an accident," Ethan, my husband, said coldly, instantly shattering my world. My little girl was gone, punished for breaking a trivial toy boat he cherished, a supposed memento from his childhood "savior," Chloe. I soon found Ethan’s laptop open, revealing Chloe Jennings, whose seductive purr confirmed the sickening fantasy that had overshadowed Sophia's life and our marriage. Even after Chloe burned Sophia's mementos and brutally assaulted me with a fire poker, Ethan defended her, offering "compensation" for my "inconvenience." His chilling pragmatism, viewing our dead daughter solely as a tool for his mistress’s agenda, unleashed a profound, bitter injustice within me. But after Chloe’s sadistic taunts and Ethan’s infuriating pleas for me to be "considerate" while she jabbed me with a syringe, mere escape wasn't enough. To truly shatter this monstrous delusion, I would stage my own death, vanishing completely and forcing Ethan to face a terrifying reality./0/84328/coverorgin.jpg?v=814760e3fb4451b7c9b7e035e8676b65&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Soul Survivor: Building Hope From Hell
The air around me reeked of gasoline, a sharp tang that somehow mixed with the familiar scent of ancient leather from my family' s priceless library. My phone buzzed, Maria's name flashing on the screen, but I ignored it, focused on the tiny, dancing flame of the lighter in my hand. Then came her text: "Jocelyn, what the HELL are you doing?! The staff is freaking out! They said you have gasoline! Are you insane? I'm calling the police to have you committed!" Insane. That' s what they' d label me. A cold smile touched my lips. Let them. They had no idea what was coming. Seven days from now, "The Veiling" would tear our world apart, merging it with a nightmarish spirit realm. I knew this because I had already lived through it. And died in it. The last time, I was naive, trusting my best friend, Maria, and my boyfriend, Ethan. I shared my meticulously prepared sanctuary, gave them everything. They rewarded me by pushing me outside to a monster. They feasted on my supplies, while I, disfigured and broken, became their pet. Then, they tortured me, sacrificing my very life force to empower their stolen haven, watching with triumphant glee as my world went dark. I died believing I was utterly alone, used, and discarded. I died wondering how those I trusted most could become such monsters. But I came back. Reborn. And this time, I remembered everything. This time, their twisted game was just the first step in my ultimate revenge./1/103257/coverorgin.jpg?v=9199f92790825f2c2e865f1a5d38ef83&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Billionaire Who Called Me Boring
He was the billionaire who called me "boring" and paid me to disappear. Three years later, Gage Schwartz came back begging, promising me the world he'd denied me for seven years. I took him back, and soon, I was pregnant with his twins. Then I heard the voicemail of him and his ex-wife, Brylee, laughing about how I was just a "comfortable placeholder." The shock caused me to miscarry. When I tried to leave, he launched a smear campaign, painting me as insane to the world. Then he locked me in our penthouse. He thought he could break me. So I faked a complete mental breakdown, escaped into a blizzard, and vanished. I built a new life, found real love, and became the artist I was always meant to be. But now, he's standing in my studio. And he wants me back./1/103570/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106223348&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Broken Wife, Billionaire Husband's Vengeance
My step-brother and his girlfriend ambushed me in my own penthouse, their eyes burning with a hatred I' d never seen. They called me a thief, a whore, and accused me of trying to steal their inheritance with the "bastard child" I was carrying. Their fists and stilettos rained down on me. A final, vicious kick to my stomach ended everything. I felt the life inside me slip away, a crimson tide staining the marble floor. They celebrated, believing they had protected their "family honor." My desperate pleas that the baby's father was the powerful Jerimiah Mcpherson were met with scornful laughter. "That old man can' t have kids!" they sneered. As they bound my hands and threw me into the pool to finish the job, the door exploded inward. It was him. Jerimiah. My husband. The look on his face as he saw me, bleeding and broken, and understood what they had done to our child, was not just rage. It was the promise of a slow, agonizing hell they had just unleashed upon themselves./1/101380/coverorgin.jpg?v=9c319ee0bfb09a7d09cb57b5124b5e25&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Seven Years His Hidden Heartbreak
For seven years, I was the secret wife and ghostwriter for the famous author Holden Gillespie. I built his literary empire with my words, all while our marriage and our son, Leo, were kept hidden to protect his "single genius" image. Then he began a public affair with his new publicist, Kassidy. When I finally quit, he tried to kick me and our son out of our home to make room for her. The breaking point came on Leo's birthday. Holden showed up with a cake to "make things right." It was mango chiffon. He had forgotten-or never cared to know-that our son has a life-threatening allergy to mangoes. He almost killed his own child out of sheer, selfish negligence. In that moment, I knew it was over. I took our son, disappeared, and filed for divorce, cutting off all contact. But now, months later, he' s standing outside my new home in Santa Fe, looking desperate. "I'm not agreeing to this divorce," he says, his voice raw. "I never will."/0/80887/coverorgin.jpg?v=2fd6180d15ee6e63e70a3c26253a86e0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Second Chance: The Heiress Who Chose Freedom
The judge’s dull voice droned through the quiet courtroom, a familiar echo from a life I’d already painfully lived. My parents, Brenda and Rob, sat on opposite sides, their strained silence a prelude to the crucial decision before us. This was it, the pivotal moment my life would splinter once more. My younger brother, Kevin, piped up without hesitation, "I choose Mom!" A sickeningly smug grin spread across his face as he briefly met my eyes, a look that sent a chill down my spine. It was the exact same pronouncement, the same twist of fate, that had occurred in my previous, tragic existence. That first time, my own choice to cling to Mom had spiral-downed into years of agonizing hunger, her volatile, bitter moods, and eventually, my gruesome death at Kevin’s hand. His petty jealousy hadn't just festered; it had exploded after Mom’s ill-fated marriage to a rich man. He still carried this delusion of grandeur, convinced he held the blueprint to quick riches. He truly believed his warped memory of a future that never materialized for him, dreaming of hitting the jackpot with Mom. The irony was almost unbearable; he had no clue of the true misery his path would lead him to, nor the cold, cruel betrayal that ended my first life. The unfairness burned, that he was here, just as oblivious, just as dangerous. But unlike that former existence, I stood here now, armed with shattering foresight. When the judge’s gaze finally landed on me, "Sarah, and you?", I made a sharp, deliberate break from the past. I looked at my weak, easily-manipulated father, and with a quiet, unwavering voice, I sealed my new destiny: "I'll go with my father."/0/98408/coverorgin.jpg?v=00b875101e555ca7dda7a77fa5751edc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Devil's Lover: Be Mine Or Be Lost Forever
Dangling off a balcony ledge, Juliana heard Braydon murmur, "Be mine, and I'll save you." Only later did Juliana learn they had already shared one reckless night-a setup by her two-faced boyfriend chasing promotion. Sweet and compliant, she fit the mold of a perfect lover. He ruled the underworld, sharp and merciless, and she, an orphan, made easy prey. He taught her to kill and conquer, and she yielded to his every demand. When a damning tape surfaced and prison loomed, he sneered, "Know your place." By the time she let go, he broke down, begging, "Please... just one more chance."/1/103414/coverorgin.jpg?v=aebec728d2bce1d8e74c2086050b225f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Curvy Ex-Wife's Revenge: The Divorce He Gave, The Regret He Earned
Nicole had entered marriage with Walter, a man who never returned her feelings, bound to him through an arrangement made by their families rather than by choice. Even so, she had held onto the quiet belief that time might soften his heart and that one day he would learn to love her. However, that day never came. Instead, he treated her with constant contempt, tearing her down with cruel words and dismissing her as fat and manipulative whenever it suited him. After two years of a cold and distant marriage, Walter demanded a divorce, delivering his decision in the most degrading manner he could manage. Stripped of her dignity and exhausted by the humiliation, Nicole agreed to her friend Brenda's plan to make him see what he had lost. The idea was simple but daring. She would use another man to prove that the woman Walter had mocked and insulted could still be desired by someone else. All they had to do was hire a gigolo. Patrick had endured one romantic disappointment after another. Every woman he had been involved with had been drawn not to him, but to his wealth. As one of the heirs to a powerful and influential family, he had long accepted that this pattern was almost unavoidable. What Patrick wanted was far more difficult to find. He longed to fall in love with a woman who cared for him as a person, not for the name he carried or the fortune attached to it. One night, while he was at a bar, an attractive stranger approached him. Because of his appearance and composed demeanor, she mistook him for a gigolo. She made an unconventional proposal, one that immediately caught his interest and proved impossible for him to refuse./0/83703/coverorgin.jpg?v=0ce166c803c714bb222fef0688ceed60&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Built From The Ashes
My last memory of my first life was Ethan, standing over my grave. He wasn't crying; he was smiling, that cruel twist of his lips I knew all too well. "I forgive you, Chloe," he' d whispered, putting his arm around Jessica as they walked away with the son I' d raised, leaving me to rot. They stripped me of everything: my apprenticeship, my dignity, decades of my life wasted raising their abandoned baby, "Lucky." When I got sick, they threw me away like trash, only to reveal their truth: Lucky was their child, conceived in a twisted plan to steal my future. I gasped, my eyes flying open, not in a coffin, but back in my 1995 body, young and alive, standing on a desolate back road. Just feet away, a baby carrier, and the wailing infant inside. In my past life, pity had washed over me, and I' d rushed to save him, unknowingly signing my own death warrant. This time, as I looked at the carrier, I felt nothing but a cold, hard fury. I turned my back and walked away, choosing a path of ice instead of kindness./1/106230/coverorgin.jpg?v=a8e8f32d2cc54557c255eafbd361ce4a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
