Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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Betrayed Bride: The CEO's Contract Marriage
Chloe Sinclair was running for her life in a freezing downpour, tearing her custom silk wedding dress just to escape the security guards her own family had sent to hunt her down. To save their failing company, her father was forcing her to marry Dalton Gray, a notorious junkie from an over-leveraged family. When she refused, her family framed her in a fake sex scandal. They leaked photos to the press, publicly branding her a spoiled, promiscuous disgrace who had suffered a mental breakdown. While she hid in a dark alley, bleeding and frozen, she discovered their ultimate betrayal. Her stepmother had hired a stand-in bride to wear her heavy veil. They were going to forge Chloe's signature at the altar tonight, legally binding her to Dalton's massive debts and selling her into financial slavery. Her trust fund was frozen. Her credit cards were blocked. She was entirely alone. She couldn't understand how her own flesh and blood could be so monstrous. They were willing to bury her alive just to secure a bank loan. The heartbreak and humiliation burned away her tears, leaving nothing but a cold, explosive rage. "I am going to drag them out into the light and ruin them myself." Instead of hiding, Chloe struck a dangerous deal with Carlisle Holder, the most ruthless billionaire on Wall Street. Armed with his resources and wearing a stolen maid's uniform, she hacked the wedding venue's security grid, ready to broadcast her family's filthy secrets to the entire world./1/114988/coverorgin.jpg?v=86a240f051c68541688fcab2d98fd28f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Burned Wife Reborn For Spectacular Revenge
I lived my entire life in a beautiful, naive bubble, completely trusting my husband and my best friend. That was until they tied me to a chair, slit my vocal cords, and set my family's estate on fire. As the flames crept closer, my husband Demarco calmly crushed my diamond wedding ring under his leather heel. My best friend Cristin walked in, leaning against his shoulder and pouring her champagne onto the floorboards to fuel the fire. "Your grandfather didn't just have a stroke. The medication swap was incredibly easy to arrange." Looking down at my bleeding body, they casually confessed to murdering the only person who had ever truly protected me, all to swallow the Bridges empire. I couldn't even scream. I could only suffocate in the thick black smoke as they turned their backs and locked the heavy oak door behind them. Why was I so blind? How could the two people I loved most treat me like disposable garbage? In my final moments of agonizing pain and pure, concentrated fury, I pulled out the detonator my grandfather had secretly left me. I pressed the button, blowing the estate and all of us to hell. But the burning stopped. When I opened my eyes, I was staring up at a pristine crystal chandelier. I was fifteen years old again, lying in my childhood bedroom, right before my treacherous uncle and those parasites started tearing my family apart. And I didn't come back empty-handed. This time, I am not the naive heiress./1/103957/coverorgin.jpg?v=826938fa2d6147a359ff89b8580da6c0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Beneath The Glass Tower
He was a ruthless CEO who always got what he wanted until he noticed her, a homeless girl surviving outside his office building. Quietly proud, clever, and impossible to read, she became the one woman who refused to fall at his feet, forcing him to chase for the first time in his life. As she steps into his workplace, she faces ridicule, betrayal, and a wealthy woman determined to erase her from his world. While his family pushes him toward an arranged marriage with an entitled heiress, his heart is already bound to the girl everyone underestimates. In a world ruled by power and status, she must prove her worth through strength and integrity, while he learns that love cannot be bought, controlled, or inherited./1/106553/coverorgin.jpg?v=8889eeed04bf2059e93df62eb432abff&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Stolen Sapphire: His Fake Girlfriend
I returned to New York after three years in Paris, sick and broken, with nothing but a venomous vow to reclaim my life. I looked like a total disaster in my scuffed boots and ripped jeans, a far cry from the Stanton heiress I once was. On the flight home, a glossy magazine headline hit me like a physical blow: my half-sister Aryana was celebrating a fairytale engagement while wearing my dead mother's sapphire pendant. The necklace was my only legacy, stolen by the interlopers who had usurped my place the moment I vanished. Things spiraled into a nightmare before I even landed. I accidentally spilled milk all over a powerful billionaire, Denis Stephens, and then fainted directly into his arms during turbulence. At the hospital, my ex-boyfriend's new girlfriend mocked my illness, snapping photos of me looking like a "pregnant" mess to ruin my reputation. When I finally fought my way to the family manor to snatch the necklace back, my father tried to hit me, and my ex accused me of becoming a whore in Europe. I couldn't understand how my own father could freeze my bank accounts and treat me like a criminal while my sister played house with my mother's jewels. I was back in the orbit of the Manhattan elite, but I was a pariah with a target on my back and a body that was failing me. Then, the final blow came. I rear-ended a Bentley belonging to Denis Stephens-the same man I'd humiliated on the plane. With six figures in damages and zero dollars in my pocket, I was completely at his mercy. "You're going to be my date tonight," He commanded, pulling me into a high-stakes game of fake romance and cold revenge that I wasn't sure I'd survive./0/43610/coverorgin.jpg?v=aa4fabf48f61e65f94e98e09fabca8c8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
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The Son Who Chose A Stranger
Three weeks after Mark informed me his "ideal woman" Sarah was moving in, forcing me out, I returned to our house for one thing: the divorce papers his lawyer drafted. As I fumbled for keys I no longer had, heavy, uneven footsteps sounded behind me, a low, slurred muttering growing closer. I pounded on the door, screaming for Mark and our son, Ethan, but through the peephole, Ethan' s shadow moved, then his voice came, muffled and cold: "Go away. You're scaring Sarah." My blood ran cold as my own son chose a stranger' s comfort over my safety, a drunken attacker' s hand clamped down on my shoulder. I screamed, fought, and tumbled onto the lawn, only to hear Ethan tell Mark on the phone, "Mom is making a scene… she's scaring Sarah!" Mark rushed past me, shivering and disheveled, to comfort Sarah, who stood draped in my robe, her face buried in Ethan' s shoulder. He then rounded on me, disgusted: "Look at you, Ava. Making a scene in the middle of the night. You woke Sarah up. She was terrified." They stood united, demanding I apologize to the woman who replaced me, for the crime of being assaulted on my own doorstep, as I realized my phone was dead, useless to call for help. When Sarah offered me peanut butter cookies, knowing about my life-threatening allergy, and Mark merely stared, impatient, without a flicker of recognition, the quiet truth dawned: he didn't remember, or worse, he didn't care. The man who once promised to always be my protector was gone, replaced by a cold stranger, eager for me to sign away our life so he could care for his new love. In that moment of profound betrayal, something shifted inside me. I signed the papers, then looked at Ethan: "I'm going to need to make a statement to the police. I'll need to use your phone." No longer fighting for a husband who despised me or a son who saw me as an inconvenience, I spoke to the police, then blocked Mark and Ethan' s numbers, cutting the last ties./1/107851/coverorgin.jpg?v=2e1b7c1cbb12e8901bb79ea1a3c65147&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Reborn Heiress: Revenge On My Wedding Day
I lay paralyzed in a luxury Swiss clinic, my body a heavy sack of meat I no longer controlled. The heart monitor’s rhythmic beep was the only thing louder than the silence, a mocking countdown to my inevitable end. My fiancé, Jordan, walked in looking impeccable in the custom suit I had bought him for his birthday. He wasn't alone; my best friend, Chloe, followed him into the room, wearing the vintage Givenchy dress I had saved for our anniversary gala. Jordan didn't look like a grieving man; he looked bored as he held up a blue folder confirming that my family's offshore trust had finally cleared. Chloe giggled, leaning over me to ask if I finally realized it was the engagement wine she had spiked seven days ago. Jordan brushed a cold hand over my forehead, calling me a "perfect little asset" before pulling Chloe into a hungry kiss right over my dying body. To ensure there was no turning back, he pulled out a silver lighter and set my living will on fire, watching the only document that could have saved me turn to ash. I tried to scream, to curse them both to hell for stealing my life and my legacy, but all that came out was a wet, rattling wheeze. My own father, I would later learn, had known about the takeover and chose the profit over his own daughter's life. As the darkness swallowed me whole, I made a silent, desperate promise: if there was anything after this, I would come back and destroy every single one of them. I gasped, my body jerking upright as air rushed into my lungs like liquid fire. I wasn't in Switzerland, and there was no poison in my veins. I was back in my Manhattan bedroom, staring at a phone that read June 12—the morning of the wedding, the day I was supposed to die, and the day I decided to burn their world to the ground./1/114340/coverorgin.jpg?v=c1a2fc5c0ecdd4342074c81fd93ee701&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The CEO's Runaway Wife And Secret Heir
I was arrested for defending myself against an assaulter, shivering in a freezing holding cell. The man who walked in to bail me out was Keven Armstrong, my billionaire ex-husband. He looked at my bruised wrists with utter disgust, tossed his lawyer's card on the bench, and sneered to his friend. "This is exactly what I was telling you. She always finds a way to make a mess of things." He still thought I divorced him four years ago because he was on the verge of bankruptcy. He didn't know I had secretly sold the only apartment he left me to anonymously save his company from ruin. He also didn't know I was raising his four-year-old son in a cramped house, where my own mother cursed me as a gold-digging disgrace and drove us out onto the street. Desperate to give my son a home, I finally landed a high-paying finance job. But on my very first day, I discovered my new company had just been acquired by Keven's empire. He singled me out in a mandatory staff meeting, publicly humiliating me for my four-year resume gap, and then summoned me to his corner office. He pulled out his checkbook, his eyes full of cold contempt. "How much to make you disappear? Just name your price and get out of my sight." I looked at the man whose empire I had secretly built, swallowing the bitter truth of our child's existence. This time, I refused to run away./1/100389/coverorgin.jpg?v=bfc43c16a7dd59d558c164b4ddda7c8b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Contractual Wife's Silent Comeback
My husband told me I was a contractual obligation, an irritant he was forced to endure after a car crash stole his memory of our love five years ago. He replaced me with a social media influencer, a woman whose lies were as polished as her feed. But when her baby was found with a small cut on her lip, she tearfully accused me of being a jealous monster who attacked an innocent child. My husband, the man I had stood by through everything, didn't hesitate. In a blind rage, he ordered a guard to take a needle and thread and sew my lips shut. "She needs to see nothing. Hear nothing. Say nothing," he commanded, his voice devoid of mercy. He then had me hung upside down in the lobby of my own wellness retreat, a public spectacle for the world to condemn. As I dangled there, bleeding and broken, I finally understood. My blind love and foolish hope had been my downfall. I had loved the wrong man, and he had utterly destroyed me. But they made one fatal mistake. They didn't know about the hidden camera I' d planted in the baby's room. And they had no idea that my family could crush his entire empire with a single phone call./0/19277/coverorgin.jpg?v=c6ffceb1adc4e6fd53c3931622443369&imageMogr2/format/webp)
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Disposable Wife: He Married A Nobody? Think Again
In the third year of marriage, she uncovered a cruel truth-her husband had treated her as nothing more than a pawn in his medical research. Their union was a sham, and his real wife was his childhood sweetheart all along. Evelyn walked away without hesitation. Soon after, she learned she was the daughter of the nation's richest man-and had unknowingly married the continent's most powerful tycoon. Her ex waited for her to beg, only to discover her new status and rising influence. As he pleaded in regret, her new husband pulled her close and declared, "She's mine now."/0/84167/coverorgin.jpg?v=40eca6810e8d745a6ee5d03125090814&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Betrayed Distiller's Triumph
For ten years, I was the unseen force behind Hewitt Distilleries, my family' s secret yeast and unique aging techniques turning a failing bourbon into an industry legend. I even convinced my parents to mortgage their last possession to save the company. Then, at the Kentucky Bourbon Festival gala, my wife, Nicole, stood on stage with her ex-boyfriend, Ryan, stealing all my credit and announcing my dismissal for being "unambitious." She' d set me up, sent me on a wild goose chase while she publicly betrayed me, then tried to activate a non-compete clause from our divorce papers, ensuring I could never distill again. How could the woman I loved, the company I built, treat me like dirt and try to erase my very existence? It wasn't just a professional slight; it was a deep, personal humiliation that curdled a decade of my life. But as they gloated, thinking they' d won, they had no idea I had just handed them a ticking time bomb. The moment Nicole called, panicking about a ruined Japanese deal, I knew my quiet revenge had just begun, and I was finally ready to walk away and build something truly mine./1/107852/coverorgin.jpg?v=5b2db85e6b3564639599090a52183e36&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Bankrupt Socialite: The Billionaire's Revenge Bride
I was the bankrupt socialite everyone pitied, standing in the mud at my mother's grave with nothing left but a pair of old Louboutins and a single white rose. My bank account was overdrawn by three hundred dollars, but I still believed Julian, my fiancé, was the one person who hadn't abandoned the toxic Compton name. Then I saw his Maybach shaking in the cemetery parking lot. Through a crack in the window, I heard the man I loved whispering to my stepsister, Tiffany. "Don't worry about the broke princess. Once I secure her voting proxy for the trust, I'm dumping her." Tiffany laughed, clutching the scarlet coat she'd charged to my own maxed-out credit card. "She's so pathetic, Julian. She actually thinks you love her." I didn't scream; I recorded them. But when I tried to use that leverage, my family turned into vipers. To protect Julian's status, they framed me for causing Tiffany to miscarry a fake pregnancy and planted stolen documents in my bag. My own father stood by as they locked me in a room, planning to sell me to a predatory creditor named Hightower to settle his gambling debts. I ended up in a freezing police cell, my ankle shattered and my reputation destroyed. I sat on that metal bench, shivering as I realized my own blood had traded my life for a check. I called the only man powerful enough to burn them all-Julian's uncle, the "Butcher of Wall Street," Alden Stark. The phone just kept ringing. He wasn't coming. To the world, I was just a walking bankruptcy filing, a girl who had finally run out of luck. I didn't wait for a savior. I escaped custody and ran barefoot through the rain, leaving a trail of blood on the marble floor of Stark Tower. When I collapsed at Alden's feet, he didn't look at me with pity; he looked at me like a rare, damaged artifact he finally owned. "Inform the board that this is my fiancée," he announced, lifting me into his arms. I signed the marriage contract that night, trading my freedom for the power to ensure my family's liabilities exceeded their assets for the rest of their natural lives./0/86763/coverorgin.jpg?v=bba8c17adc63419bf4c92e87fc13123d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Betrayal, My Unmaking
"Not guilty." The judge' s words ripped my world apart. Chloe Davis, the woman who ran over my five-year-old daughter, Lily, was free. Then, my estranged husband, David Chen, Lily' s father and Chloe' s lawyer, pulled her into a triumphant embrace right there in the courtroom. My breath caught. It was a physical blow to see them, a perfect, powerful unit, while I stood shattered. He even blamed me for Lily' s death, saying I wasn' t watchful enough. Back in our silent apartment, every object screamed Lily' s name. I remembered David missing Lily' s preschool play, prioritizing work. Then, the day of the accident, a flash of silver, a sickening thud, and Lily' s last words: "Look, Mommy! So pretty!" David' s voicemail the whole time. At the hospital, his first words weren' t about Lily, but about a lawsuit. Later, I discovered he was with Chloe Davis at a restaurant at the time of the accident. The betrayal was a fresh wound, but then a friend sent me a link. A gossip blog, clearly showing David and Chloe celebrating his "victory" with champagne. When I confronted him, he dismissed me, gifting Chloe a diamond bracelet and a lingering kiss, making it clear she was now his priority. I woke up in a hospital, a new text message on my phone. It was from her. "Heard you put on quite a show tonight. You should really learn to handle your emotions better. By the way, the bracelet is stunning. It almost makes running over your kid worth it. Almost." The words twisted my gut. But then, the confession. "I didn't even slow down... And for all my trouble? A 'not guilty' verdict and a new life with your husband. He paid all my legal fees with the money from that joint account you thought was for Lily's college fund... David planned the whole defense, you know. He told me exactly what to say, how to cry for the jury. He even got a guy to fix the front of my car before the cops could impound it." He blamed me for Lily's death, but he orchestrated Chloe' s freedom, using Lily' s college fund. The rage was a blazing fire. I ripped out my IV and walked out. I went straight to the police station with the text message, ready to expose him. But David arrived, smooth and authoritative, claiming I was unstable and fabricating things. The police believed him. He dragged me out, threatening to commit me to a psych hospital if I didn' t drop it. He told me he' d give me the insurance settlement money from Lily' s "accident" if I disappeared. But I wouldn' t be bought. Instead, clutching my father' s Medal of Valor and Lily' s urn, I went to Police Headquarters, to Chief Peterson, my father' s old partner. I would make them listen./1/106230/coverorgin.jpg?v=a8e8f32d2cc54557c255eafbd361ce4a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Billionaire's Medicine: His Silent Obsession
My stepmother sold me like a piece of inventory to a man known for breaking people just to plug the financial crater my father left behind. I was delivered to the Morton estate in the middle of a freezing storm, stripped of my phone, and told that if I didn't make myself useful, my senile grandfather would be evicted from his care facility by noon. The master of the house, Adonis Morton IV, was a monster living in a silent mausoleum, driven to the brink of madness by a sensory condition that turned every sound into a physical assault. When I was forced into his suite to serve him, he didn't see a human being; he saw a source of agony. In a fit of animalistic rage, he pinned me to the wall and nearly strangled me to death just for the sound of a shattering teacup. I only survived by using my grandfather’s secret herbal blends and pressure-point therapy to force his overactive nervous system into a drugged sleep. But saving him was my greatest mistake. Instead of letting me go, Adonis moved me into a guest suite connected to his own bedroom by a hidden door. He didn't just want me as a servant; he needed me as a human white-noise machine to drown out the demons in his head. The nightmare deepened when he took the promissory note that defined my freedom and tore it into confetti. By destroying the debt, he destroyed my exit strategy. He replaced my maid’s uniform with a silver silk dress that clung to my skin but did nothing to hide the dark, ugly bruises his fingers had left on my neck. He branded me as his "primary care associate," a title that was nothing more than a gilded cage. I felt a sickening sense of injustice as he forced me to sign a contract that banned me from contacting other men and required me to sleep wherever he slept. He looked at me with a possessive heat, calling me his "medication" rather than a woman. My family had sold my body, but Adonis Morton was intent on owning my very presence, using my grandfather’s medical bills as a leash to keep me within twenty feet of him at all times. Standing in a neglected greenhouse with mud staining my expensive silk, I realized I was no longer a victim waiting for rescue. If I was going to be his medication, I would learn how to be his cure—or his undoing. I began clearing the weeds with a cold, calculated frenzy, determined to turn this prison into my laboratory. He thinks he has trapped a helpless girl, but I am going to pry open the cracks in his stone walls until his entire world comes crashing down./1/116937/coverorgin.jpg?v=2a1b0658c3d3beab368b7ceb8adea209&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Second Chance With The Obsessive CEO
She died in the flames. Then she woke up three days earlier-with a second chance and a list of names. Stella Thorne remembers everything. The fire. The betrayal. The cold smile on her fiancé's face as he pushed her into the inferno. But when she opens her eyes, she's not dead. She's back at the Vanity Fair gala, three hours before her nightmare began. This time, she's not playing nice. She humiliates her step-sister on live television, destroys her ex-fiancé's plans, and does the one thing no one expects: she kisses Axel Sterling-the cold Wall Street heir she publicly despised in her first life-in front of the entire world. Axel Sterling has loved her for ten painful years. He knows she's using him. He knows this sudden obsession is probably a lie. But he doesn't care. He marries her at midnight. He locks her in his penthouse. He calls it protection. But when she whispers another man's name in her sleep, the fragile peace shatters. Now Axel faces a choice: confront the woman he loves, or destroy the ghost she can't forget. One of them won't survive the truth./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."/0/98768/coverorgin.jpg?v=5b796fdf23f79244775d4e640818030c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Broken And Betrayed: A Billionaire's Regret
My ten-year contract marriage was over. I had saved my sister's life by playing wife to a billionaire and mother to his two sons. Today, I was finally free. But at my stepson's birthday party, my public execution began when a deepfake porn video starring my face was broadcast to all of New York's elite. Then, my husband's ex-wife, Carolina, orchestrated my downfall. She stabbed herself and blamed me. The boys I raised screamed that I was a monster. And my husband, Justin, believing her lies, beat me so brutally that I miscarried the child I never knew I was carrying. He chose her. He chose the lie. He let our child die. But his mother, the woman who orchestrated our marriage, saved me. Months later, my ex-husband and stepsons found me in LA, crying and begging me to come home. I looked at the men who destroyed me and smiled. "No," I said calmly. "I don't need you anymore."/1/106555/coverorgin.jpg?v=490e09a3cdffbd03eb259a804ef8066b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Woke Up Married To My Mysterious Boss
I woke up to a rhythmic thumping against the wall of our luxury apartment. I thought it was just a nightmare, but when I pushed open the bedroom door, the reality was much worse. My fiancé, Ignacio, was entangled with a blonde on the very sofa I had paid for three months ago. When he saw me, there was no guilt in his eyes, only cold annoyance. "I'm bored of the 'good girl' act, Aria," he said, standing up with terrifying casualness. "And frankly, I'm bored of waiting for your stepfather's money to clear." Before I could even process his words, he grabbed my arm and shoved me out into the hallway. He didn't let me grab my shoes or my phone. He just tossed my trench coat at my face and slammed the door, locking me out of my own life. Barefoot and shivering in the October rain, I wandered into a speakeasy and drank until the world blurred. That’s where I met him—a man who looked like a prince and radiated a dangerous kind of power. In a drunken, desperate haze, I asked him if he was for hire. I needed a husband to spite Ignacio, and he was the most expensive-looking man in the room. "Marry me," I pleaded, and to my shock, he agreed. We hit a twenty-four-hour chapel, signed the papers, and I passed out in the back of his Maybach. The next morning, I woke up in a penthouse on Billionaire’s Row. The man, Burke, stood there in a towel and handed me a bill for fifty thousand dollars for his "overnight services." I was terrified. My family was bankrupt, I was homeless, and now I owed a massive debt to a high-end escort I had accidentally married in a blackout. I fled to a job interview at Justice Group, hoping to earn enough to pay him off and disappear. But when I sat down in the waiting room, the "gigolo" was sitting right there, wearing a suit and holding a newspaper. "Don't tell anyone we know each other," I hissed, thinking he was just another desperate applicant. "Why? Ashamed of your husband?" he teased. Then the HR assistant called our names together, and I realized my nightmare was only just beginning./0/82546/coverorgin.jpg?v=ac1b59f1c1691c02694b9974d76b013e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
