Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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Rising From Hell: The True Heiress's Revenge
I survived three years in a hellish military facility, enduring shrapnel wounds and nerve damage just to finally return home to my wealthy family. But the moment I stepped out into the sun, my ex-fiancé looked at my scarred body with pure disgust, coldly asking if I had "learned my lesson" for stressing out my fragile sister, Cassie. At the family estate, my mother had already given my bedroom to Cassie. My brother shielded her from me like I was a wild animal, and my father publicly called me an ungrateful wretch just because Cassie accidentally splashed a drop of coffee on her own hand. They ignored my life-threatening, jagged scars, casually offering me Cassie's leftover burn cream for my "old marks." I couldn't understand how three years of my blood and agony meant absolutely nothing to the people who were supposed to love me. They had willingly sent me to hell just to keep their precious, manipulative darling happy, systematically erasing my existence from their lives. When they shamelessly handed me the annulment papers and demanded I graciously bless Conrad and Cassie's new engagement to protect the Beaumont family brand, the last flicker of my affection turned to ash. I calmly agreed to step aside, but as my mother smiled in triumph, I looked at them with ice in my eyes. "You want me to be the sacrificial lamb for your perfect little family? Fine. But it will cost you."/0/80110/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106193232&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Divorce She Demanded
"Sarah, about that Chicago job…" Mark’s words echoed, triggering a chilling deja vu. He was about to tell me my dream job, the history department head role in my hometown, had to be sacrificed for his needy sister-in-law, Jessica. Twenty years ago, I acquiesced, losing my path, my husband, and ultimately, myself to Mark’s relentless prioritization of Jessica and the town’s pitying whispers. This time, my defiant "I'm taking the job" was met with accusations of selfishness and indifference from him, and feigned sweetness from her. Our escalating conflict climaxed when a violent ice storm collapsed our house; trapped under debris, I watched Mark abandon me to save Jessica and her son. The searing pain in my leg was nothing compared to the gut-wrenching realization: he had chosen them, fully expecting me to die, his ultimate betrayal a stark and final message. But in that wreckage, a new resolve solidified: this wasn't an end, but liberation. From my hospital bed, I vowed to reclaim my life, refusing his eventual, posthumous apologies and compensation, finally free to forge my own destiny in Chicago./0/84021/coverorgin.jpg?v=0125b021b26074e6d0430b6ff7e865dc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Beneath the Texas Sun, A Mother's Sin
My marriage to Nicole Chadwick was a business deal, but I fell in love with her, and together we had our son, Caleb. I thought we had a chance at a real family. Then, in one horrific instant, my five-year-old son was gone, drowned by his own mother, Nicole, with her high school sweetheart, Wesley, egging her on. As paramedics fought for Caleb' s life, Nicole and Wesley shopped for saddles and laughed. Later, she even tried to send peanut butter cookies to his hospital room, knowing he had a severe peanut allergy. I watched her celebrate a new pregnancy with Wesley, declaring Caleb a "mistake" and mocking me as I lay bleeding in a ditch, pushed by her. She then publicly whipped me with a riding crop on sharp gravel, spitting venom and telling me I was nothing. My world shattered, built on a foundation of lies and unfathomable cruelty. How could the woman I loved, the mother of my child, be such a monster? But then, Mr. Chadwick, Nicole' s father, revealed a truth so shocking it peeled back every layer of deceit. Wesley didn' t just instigate Caleb' s death; he had lied for five years about saving Nicole' s prize horse, a feat I secretly accomplished purely out of love for her. Now, as Nicole shattered, confronting the horrifying reality of what she had done and lost, I finally understood. There was no making it right, no forgiveness. And my refusal to forgive her set in motion a chain of events that ended in her tragic, solitary demise years later./0/86524/coverorgin.jpg?v=afe0981aa856623b9eaadf4d905869f6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Shattered Crystal, Broken Love
The crystal shattered, a scream tearing through the quiet afternoon. It was followed by a tiny, terrified gasp from my four-year-old daughter, Lily. I found her frozen in the doorway of Ethan' s study, surrounded by the glittering shards of his limited-edition crystal set. When Ethan appeared, a cold presence blocking the light, he didn' t look at Lily or me, only the broken crystals. "This was a gift," he said, his voice dangerously calm, "From Chloe." Chloe Davis, his spiritual mentor, the ghost in our marriage. "Ethan, it was an accident," I pleaded, shielding Lily. But he ignored me, pulling Lily from my grasp. "Discipline is not a punishment. It is a teaching." He dragged her toward the soundproof meditation room, her panicked sobs echoing: "No, Daddy! Not the quiet room! It' s dark!" "Ethan, no! She' s terrified of enclosed spaces!" I cried, but he pushed her inside. The heavy door clicked shut, sealing off her screams. When he finally let me out an hour later, Lily was gone. No pulse. No breath. Nothing. Hours later, the TV in the living room showed Ethan on a stage, smiling, declaring his devotion to Chloe. My heart shattered, replaced by a cold, hard thought. I called my lawyer. "It' s Sarah Miller. Please draft a divorce agreement for me." The doorbell rang. It was Ethan' s mother, Mrs. Hayes, offering me a staggering check for his "carelessness." "He wasn' t careless," I said, pushing it back. "He was cruel. Your son killed my daughter." I expected shock. I didn' t expect Chloe Davis to walk through my front door, looking like a distressed angel, instantly comforted by Ethan. As she hugged him, she looked at me with a flash of pure, triumphant victory. This wasn't an accident. This was an execution, and she orchestrated it. The cold emptiness inside me ignited into a white-hot rage./1/104045/coverorgin.jpg?v=0befe166cea017ecc693ff430911aa78&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Vengeful Ex-Fiancée Returns Strong
On my birthday, I went to the resort I designed to tell my fiancé, Elias, that I was pregnant with his child. Instead, I found him at the altar, marrying my stepsister in a ceremony officiated by my own mother. When I confronted him, he laughed. "Pregnant? You're delusional, Aubrie. Kallie is dying, and you're here spreading malicious lies." My entire family agreed. They called me a jealous monster. During a wildfire at the resort, he shoved me to the ground to save her, breaking my leg and causing me to lose our baby. They left me there, alone and broken, convinced I was insane. They thought they had destroyed me. But from my hospital bed, I made a single phone call to my lawyer. I didn't just want to disappear from their lives-I wanted to erase them from the world. And I had the evidence to do it./0/85429/coverorgin.jpg?v=4e14bcfb864dcc2dbee986bdb98b1744&imageMogr2/format/webp)
She Chose Power Over Our Love
The rain beat a mournful rhythm against the chapel windows, a fitting backdrop for my son Leo' s funeral. It was too small, too quiet for a boy who deserved the world. Then, through the numbing haze of grief, I heard it-my wife Sarah' s voice, cool and utterly devoid of sorrow, conversing with her ex-fiancé, Mark. "He was an obstacle, Mark," she' d said, her words slicing through me. I listened as she confessed she' d withheld Leo' s life-saving medicine, calling him "an accident" and "a sacrifice" for her career ambitions. My own wife had murdered our son. The revelation twisted my world, leaving me gasping for air in our silent, empty house. She returned home, a mask of the grieving widow, and proceeded to erase every trace of Leo from our lives, throwing away his toys, his clothes-his very existence. "He was going to get better, Sarah," I pleaded, the memory of his hopeful eyes burning. "He said you were taking him for special medicine." Her callous dismissal, a wave of her hand, shattered any semblance of the woman I thought I knew. Who was this monster wearing my wife' s face? "You' re a freeloader, David," Mark sneered, as they openly plotted their corporate takeover, built on my stolen AI, "Project Chimera"-a project I' d named for Leo. "It' s going to get ugly, Sarah," I promised. "You have no idea." My revenge wouldn' t be for me; it would be for my son./0/57114/coverorgin.jpg?v=8c0c7e1d7f02a6239a31d4878de6f93c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Mr. Billionaire Boundless Love
Marry a billionaire after a one-night stand： “We have agreed to leave each other to our own business. I hope you have a good reason for coming here.” “Yes, we agreed to that, but not to a sexless marriage. Sex is essential for a lasting marriage.” Selene chuckled. Clint also smiled, then sneered. “Do you like sex without love? Did you marry me because you enjoyed the sex that much?” Selene frowned, aware of the implications of his words. But she did not know why he said it. And the unopened file named “HER” appeared in her mind again. “I believe it’s important for a healthy relationship.” “Only the sex?” “I thought we agreed on it.” “Nonsense!” Clint exploded with anger. After thinking for a while, Selene replied, “Okay, sorry for disturbing you. I’m going to bed.” Before she went back to the bedroom and lay on the bed, Clint suddenly caught up with her and pushed her onto the bed. “What are you doing?!” Selene was frightened. Clint was violently tearing Selene’s home dress and groaned. “Fulfilling my obligation as a husband!”/1/116873/coverorgin.jpg?v=7537d001b254b13633ad9558e9195841&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Genius Heiress Plays The Fool
In my past life, I was treated like a mentally defective piece of trash by my family and forced to marry the paralyzed, ruthless billionaire, Charlton Moreno. I thought he would despise me, but when the yacht exploded, this terrifying man threw his massive body over mine. His blood soaked into my clothes as the blast tore us apart. Before I died, the cruel truth finally came to light. My family had been slowly poisoning him with a neurotoxin for years, turning his legs into dead weight. They only used me as a filthy pawn to humiliate his bloodline and steal his fortune. And when I was no longer useful, I was stripped of everything and left to die in the gutter. Why did he protect a broken, uninvited stranger like me? Why did I let those greedy traitors destroy the only person who ever truly made me feel safe? Opening my eyes again, I was back on the day my family shoved me, wearing a torn wedding dress, into the freezing foyer of the Moreno estate. "This is what you bring us? A mental defective?" I kept my head down, hiding the cold, calculating hatred in my eyes, and let my facial muscles go completely slack. This time, I will play the perfect idiot, I will cure his legs, and I will take back everything./1/103263/coverorgin.jpg?v=0d03f8d25074e9bf27861e0af8d9ba8f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Seven Years, One Heartbreak, New Love
For seven years, I was the perfect girlfriend to Hollywood star Ethan Cleveland. I put my life on hold, baked his favorite pastries, and silently endured the online hate from fans who wanted him with his co-star, Keira. Then came my 29th birthday. He said he had a late-night script meeting, but I discovered the truth: he was at a private clinic, comforting Keira as she confessed her feelings for him. He publicly defended Keira from online harassment, calling for kindness. But when I received death threats from his fans, he called me "dramatic" and "insecure." He was capable of empathy and protection, just never for me. The man who claimed to love me was systematically destroying my self-worth while playing the hero for the world. So I left. And when he finally tracked me down, trying to reclaim what he'd lost, I did something I never thought I would. I turned to the new man by my side-the one who truly saw me-and kissed him right in front of my ex./1/113275/coverorgin.jpg?v=2b3c8bde39fd9db7549bf59f2d8f9d2e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
He Held The Sun, Then Lost It
Five years. Four hundred million dollars. And the wedding dress was never mine. I found out on a Tuesday—a C-list actress draped in my custom Vera Wang, hanging off my fiancé's arm. Six months of French lace. Six meters of Italian silk. Every stitch a promise I had made to myself: someone finally chose me for me. He locked the doors of that boutique. Froze my cards. Threatened my friends. Told the world I was just a delusional former assistant who didn't know her place. The internet called me crazy, a liar, a desperate woman who couldn't take a hint. His name trended everywhere. My accounts got suspended before I could say a word. What he never knew: his empire ran on my capital. His patents were mine. His executive assistant had been feeding me evidence for months—emails, recordings, a paper trail of fraud stretching back years. I dialed the encrypted phone. A voice said, "I've waited five years." "Then wait three more days," I said. "I'm going to tear his head off."/1/103576/coverorgin.jpg?v=8ff46ddd2b1c3dd39dfe20fa6f4b162e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Broken To Beloved, My Journey
My husband, Andre Grimes, was a newly-elected senator, and I was a celebrated chef pregnant with our first child. On the night of his victory, our world was supposed to be perfect. Instead, I watched him on live TV, his arm around his pregnant mistress, as he announced their relationship to the world. He then looked into the camera and called my own pregnancy a lie, a fabrication to create a scandal. His powerful family, along with my own adoptive parents, locked me in our home. They moved his mistress into my bedroom and planned to force me to have an abortion to protect his career. His mother looked at me with cold eyes. "It's for the best, Kyra. No loose ends." I was trapped, betrayed by everyone, facing the murder of my unborn child. But they made one mistake: they gave me back my phone. With trembling hands, I found a long-forgotten number and dialed. A man's voice answered. "My name is Kyra Moore," I choked out. "I think you might be my father. They're going to take my baby."/0/99978/coverorgin.jpg?v=03eaefa37e70c3dc02b16c4673ad3203&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Blind Angel Turns Out To Be A Sweet Demoness
Three years ago, a fire gutted Gordon family, killing Lindsay's parents and leaving her blind. As the anniversary neared, she learned Kyra—the killer—had been spared, and that her supposedly loving husband Matthew had hidden her overseas, then slipped her back to live in their house as his "cousin." Grief hardened into rage. She went in secret to Anthony, Matthew's rival and an eye surgeon, who restored her sight and joined revenge. Matthew assumed a blind wife was harmless. Until Lindsay seized the CEO seat, exposed the past, and sent Kyra to justice. Afterward, however, Anthony wouldn't let go. "Don't use me and leave. I want your love."/0/80267/coverorgin.jpg?v=6b1ac4b4e658d60845ae2d4859c61eda&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Fake Divorce to Real Fortune
It started with a casual scroll through a Facebook parenting group. My husband, Jack, came home that evening, his face alight with an excitement I hadn't seen in years. He spoke of a monumental career opportunity with BMW in Germany, a chance to elevate our family's future. Then came the chilling caveat: for obscure corporate reasons, he explained, participants needed to be officially single, so we’d need a “symbolic divorce.” My heart plunged, because only days before, I’d read an anonymous post in that very same group detailing how a man planned to trick his wife into a fake divorce to run off with his new girlfriend; the parallels were undeniable. He swore it was just paperwork and a formality, that nothing would change between us. His palpable relief when I, feigning compliance, agreed to this monstrous charade was truly sickening. Less than a week later, with the divorce decree in hand, he flew overseas with his much younger, blonder colleague, vanishing without a trace. I soon discovered our joint bank account, earmarked for our dream house, had been emptied of nearly $50,000. “Trust him?” the word felt like ash in my mouth. My mind reeled with the audacity of his betrayal, and how he could orchestrate such a cruel plot to leave his family destitute for a fleeting fantasy. The urge to scream, to ruin him, was overwhelming, but a colder, more calculated anger began to take hold. A “symbolic” divorce? There’s no such thing; a divorce is a divorce. But Jack, blinded by his perceived freedom, had made a fatal miscalculation. He had completely underestimated the wife he thought he’d outsmarted. He didn't know about my meticulously squirreled-away hundred thousand dollars, my ultimate, secret safety net. As his car disappeared down the street, a singular, potent thought solidified in my mind: Go enjoy your "freedom," Jack, because getting back in won’t be so easy, and you’ve just signed away more than you know./0/21916/coverorgin.jpg?v=f31fba3a95e9d93a499f298d57e2bfe5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Love Towards You
'Are you Bipolar?' A story of a girl whose infinite love for a person who is not part of the human world. Her love is boundless. She has no boundaries when it comes to her love. 'You’re still the one I run to, the one that I belong to, you’re still the one I want for life!!' An unknown creature approaches her because of the past reprisals, but unfortunately she falls in love with him. 'I want to dig your grave next to mine.' His love is an enormous danger for her, but she doesn't have a clue about it. The girl is blind to her love. He saves her from other enemies, but he is her biggest enemy. 'Die for me!' Jung-Kim-Hea is the apple of the eye for her three handsome brothers. She's a weakness to her brothers. She believes her brothers lead a normal life, but she has no knowledge of their mafia world. Her third brother is a foster brother who eventually falls in love with her at a young age, but she is not capable of seeing his love for her. 'You are a danger to my heart.' . . Where does the roller coaster of her destiny get her? A/N: Kindly check the trailer of the book on Instagram I'd: Merry Author./0/64154/coverorgin.jpg?v=20241018090112&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Bar Encounter: The Ex-Husband Regret
Here is the translation into English: "I am Oliver Xingyi’s wife, in a marriage of convenience. I heard that he has started dating another girlfriend again. I saw her once, and she looks 90% like his short-lived first love. This time, I’m tired, so I filed for divorce. With the divorce, I can get half of his wealth, and thinking about it no longer makes me sad. That day, Oliver Xingyi was at the bar, looking carefree with his new girlfriend. He caught sight of me sitting on another man's lap, drinking. He went completely mad and smashed the bar. With rage in his eyes, he questioned me, 'Who is he?' 'He is my boyfriend.' 'Ji Anran, then who am I?' 'You are my husband.' Zhou Yanli, standing next to me, laughed and corrected me, 'A husband in the divorce cooling-off period, considered an ex-husband!'"/1/113901/coverorgin.jpg?v=3e0bf30ae63552478660ee9794e9b1fc&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Billionaire's Secret Midnight Obsession
I was a broke freelance copywriter, tortured for three sleepless nights by an impossible corporate client. Needing to vent, I typed out a wild, highly inappropriate rant mocking the brand's stiff heritage. But in my exhausted, sleep-deprived blur, I accidentally sent the massive block of text to the wrong chat. The recipient wasn't my friend. It was Emerson Beard, the elite, ruthless brand consultant I was supposed to desperately network with. I waited for the professional execution, terrified of the massive five-figure penalty fee hanging over my head. Instead, he didn't block me. He critiqued my unhinged draft. He saved my career through late-night, encrypted phone calls, his deep, commanding voice becoming my only lifeline. But when I heard a woman with a sultry French accent knocking on his hotel door during our call, my ugly jealousy flared. I yelled at him and hung up, completely humiliating myself. I thought I was just a pathetic, annoying workaholic interrupting his romantic getaway. But he texted back to clarify he was entirely single, and in the process, realized I was actually twenty-five, not a fresh-out-of-school teenager like he had assumed. The cold, distant mentor instantly vanished. In his place was a man radiating a raw, aggressive, and predatory energy that bled right through the screen. "Texting is too inefficient. The full integration requires face-to-face communication." He dropped a location pin for an ultra-exclusive Manhattan club, demanding I meet him to save my contract. Wearing a desperately bought emerald silk dress, I pushed open the heavy oak door, stepping right into the trap of a man who had just taken off his leash./0/78077/coverorgin.jpg?v=d01e45e947c02b26fb0aa93ba26228e8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
I Refuse to Be a Slave to my Ex and Husband
Aria, the ambitious heir to a prestigious family empire, has always dreamt of breaking free from her family's oppressive expectations and forging her own identity. But when she uncovers a chilling conspiracy that sees her framed for financial misconduct, her world spirals into chaos. The betrayal runs deep- her charming ex-fiancé, Julian, is not just a casualty but a mastermind behind the plot orchestrating her downfall, alongside her own family members whc prioritize legacy over loyalty Determined to reclaim her freedom and rightful place in the business, Aria embarks on a treacherous journey filled with emotional turmoil and shocking revelations. As she navigates a treacherous landscape of deception, she must build alliances with unexpected allies, face painful truths about ner family's dark past, and confront her unresolvec feelings for Julian, who struggles with his own demons. With each step, Aria transforms from a woman burdened by her lineage into a force of nature, ready to defy the constraints imposed upon her. Yet, as the battle for her identity intensifies, she must grapple with the fine line between revenge and justice. Will Aria rise to claim her power, or will the very bonds that tie her to her family keep her shackled in a life she refuses to accept?/0/83083/coverorgin.jpg?v=61ad894fbb4acf2da354f713a00d48ae&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Stolen Life: The Billionaire\'s Revenge
The black SUV pulled up to my childhood D.C. estate after ten years away. I stepped out, expecting a quiet, perhaps strained, family dinner. Instead, a lavish party was in full swing, music and laughter spilling from the open doors. Then I saw her: my cousin, Chloe, wearing my dress, laughing with Julian Vance-my fiancé from a decade ago. My research. My fellowship. She was claiming it all as her own, right in front of me. Just as confusion ripped through me, my mother, Eleanor, appeared, her face hardening into an icy mask. "Ava," she said, her voice a chilling whisper. "What are you doing here?" Before I could demand an explanation, she cut me off, announcing Chloe' s engagement and achievements as if I didn't exist. When I protested, claiming my stolen life, my own mother publicly declared me "unwell" and "confused," a danger under medical care. My father, David, stood silent, then sided with her, allowing security to drag me away and lock me in a secluded wing of my own home. Betrayal ripped through me, a suffocating blanket of disbelief. How could my family do this? Erase me, steal my entire existence, and frame me as insane? But then, my father returned, a tray with sedatives in hand, and a flicker in his eyes-a silent warning, a hidden promise. This wasn't abandonment. This was a staged escape. I took the pills, publicly "dying" as Ava, knowing I was about to be reborn./0/83396/coverorgin.jpg?v=78f3eec69bf669eb84fd5a06de25c42b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Hidden Heir's Revenge
I, Ethan, had one rule: make it on my own merits, no family help, despite my parents being Silicon Valley legends. For three years, I poured my soul into "Project Prometheus," a project meant to launch my career to new heights, all while planning a future with my fiancée, Chloe. Then, a single LinkedIn notification shattered my world: Chloe's smirking intern, Leo, was taking credit for my project, my invaluable work. When I confronted Chloe, she looked at me with tired annoyance, not guilt, casually dismissing it as "just a title" for Leo's career, before brazenly asking me to endorse his fake "contribution." My furious refusal only made things worse; suddenly, I was the subject of office whispers and Marcus, my director, inexplicably sided with Chloe, burying my name on the project and putting me on a death-sentence Performance Improvement Plan. Chloe publicly smeared me as "non-collaborative," then privately texted: "You lost." How could the woman I planned to marry so casually steal my life's work, mock my integrity, and try to make me an accomplice in my own professional execution? The unfairness was a physical weight, suffocating me, watching them twist the truth while my irrefutable evidence was ignored. My integrity was utterly worthless against her malicious lies. Backed into a corner, my reputation destroyed and career hanging by a thread, I finally made the call I swore I never would: "Mom, Dad," I choked out, "I tried to handle this myself, but I can't anymore. I need your help."/0/84022/coverorgin.jpg?v=283a97c9bd2fc836db0a78c98fb2f179&imageMogr2/format/webp)
