Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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Jilted Wife, Billionaire's Daughter Rises
My husband, Dalton, publicly humiliated me for the tenth time, flaunting his pregnant mistress, Justine, at a conference for the company I built. I was trapped, paying for my mother' s endless medical bills. But then Justine took it a step further. She went to my mother' s hospital and cruelly told her everything-all the affairs, all my sacrifices. My mother, in her despair, jumped from the rooftop. At the funeral, Justine crashed the service with a brass band, showering my mother' s casket with confetti. "She's just trying to be thoughtful!" Dalton yelled, shielding her as I lunged forward in a blind rage. He shoved me back, his eyes blazing. "Don't you dare touch her! She's carrying my child!" He raised his hand to strike me, and I braced for the impact, my world completely shattered. But the blow never landed. A chillingly calm, powerful voice cut through the chaos. "I wouldn't advise that, Dalton." My estranged, billionaire father had just arrived./1/108034/coverorgin.jpg?v=f7add1a8e5a6a29def14bb1314f8a9a2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Silent Bride's Billion Dollar Contract
My bank account showed exactly $42.18, and my student loan notifications were flashing red. I lived in a sweltering Queens apartment with my Aunt Lydia, where the air was thick with the smell of stale frying oil and the constant threat of being homeless. Lydia handed me a grainy photo of a man twice my age and told me she had already "sold" me to him. He was a dry cleaner looking for a wife, and in exchange for my hand, he would pay off her credit cards and my debt. If I didn't show up for the date that night, my boxes would be on the curb by midnight. I arrived at the cafe in a state of panic, my selective mutism making it impossible to even breathe. In the crowded room, I accidentally sat at the wrong table. Instead of the man from the photo, I found myself facing Gerhard Holcomb—the cold, terrifyingly handsome billionaire whose family owned the very museum where I worked. He didn't send me away; instead, he studied my trembling hands and offered me a different deal: a two-year contract marriage, a two-million-dollar payout, and a strict clause forbidding any children. I signed the papers and moved into his Park Avenue penthouse, thinking I was finally safe. But when I went back to the old apartment to retrieve the only memento of my dead parents, Lydia lashed out, leaving me bleeding from a head wound. Gerhard’s retaliation was absolute—he had her arrested and her building foreclosed on within hours, claiming he was simply "protecting his assets." As I recovered in his silent, glass-walled home, I saw a call from a famous socialite flash on his phone, and a cold truth settled in my gut. I wasn't just a wife; I was a placeholder, a silent shield used to fend off the women from his past. I looked at the massive pink diamond on my finger and realized the silence I had lived in my whole life was about to become my most expensive prison. I had traded a life of poverty for a high-stakes game of shadows, and now I had to survive the man who claimed to own me./0/89418/coverorgin.jpg?v=20250814210353&imageMogr2/format/webp)
He Drove Me Away, Now He's Hunting Me Down
My husband, Liam Goldstein, was publicly the perfect man. He donated a kidney to save my life and named the new tower of his corporate headquarters after me. The world saw us as the ultimate power couple, a love story for the ages. But in private, he was cheating on me with an influencer. He arranged a "romantic evening" with private fireworks, only for me to discover it was a birthday party for his mistress, Ava. I overheard him promise her my "Maya's Horizon" necklace, the one he gave me after the transplant. His friends were all in on it, laughing behind my back and calling me "the main course." After a car accident, I found them together at the hospital. She was pregnant with his child. When I lunged at her, he grabbed my wrist and snarled at me to apologize to his pregnant mistress. Then came the final blow. A text from Ava with a picture of the sonogram. "Our baby, Maya." Underneath it, a photo of her wearing my necklace. "He says it looks better on me." On our anniversary, I had his prized rose garden bulldozed. Then I had the divorce papers delivered to his office, along with every single taunting message Ava had ever sent me. By the time he read them, Maya Goldstein was already a ghost./1/101933/coverorgin.jpg?v=ef3ee342e86f0746fbb73a197830f548&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Unfortunate Card of Lies
For ten years, I waited for my childhood sweetheart, Adonis, to marry me. But every year, our future was delayed by a ridiculous family ritual where he had to draw a "Fortunate" tarot card. For three years, he drew the "Unfortunate" card, enduring brutal penance that left him scarred and broken. I believed it was fate. Then, on the fourth year, I saw him draw the Fortunate card. My heart soared. We were finally free. But in a swift, practiced move, he swapped it for an Unfortunate one, choosing more suffering. I was frozen in shock. Later, I overheard him confess to his cousin. He' d been swapping the cards for four years. He couldn't marry me yet because of his assistant, Ariel. She' d threatened to do something drastic if he left her. He said he owed her. My world shattered. Every lash he took, every moment of pain I shared, was a lie. A charade performed for another woman. He had chosen his guilt for her over his love for me. He even accused me of monstrous cruelty based on her lies, shouting, "I can't believe I wasted ten years on someone so vindictive. Apologize to Ariel. Now." That was the moment I knew the man I loved was gone. So, I left. I flew to Hong Kong and married another man. But just as I found my new beginning, Adonis burst in, his eyes wild with regret, begging me to come back. And right behind him was Ariel, her face twisted with madness, a gleaming knife in her hand./1/113353/coverorgin.jpg?v=96e6802ae444cce78c3c1eaab3ad747a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Fake Heiress Cancels Her Engagement
I woke up in a luxurious private medical room, only to be hit with a crushing realization. I had transmigrated into a novel as the fake heiress of the McConnell family, destined to be the ultimate villain. In the original plot, I viciously bullied the real daughter who grew up in a trailer park, and tortured my adopted brother by using him as a living blood bank. When the truth came out, my fiancé abandoned me, my family threw me away, and the brother I tormented eventually left me to bleed to death in a dark alley. Right now, the timeline had just reached the deadly turning point. The real heiress had been brought home, wearing faded rags and mercilessly mocked by our relatives. My vicious cousin had secretly handed me corrosive acid disguised as expensive skincare, hoping I would melt my own face off. Worse, an anonymously leaked audio of me admitting my fake identity had just gone viral, causing a massive corporate scandal. My elite fiancé immediately marched into the penthouse with his lawyers, throwing the cancellation documents on the glass table. "The Vance family does not merge assets with a fraud. We don't marry fake bloodlines." Everyone waited for me to break down, beg, and viciously attack the real daughter like a hysterical thief clinging to a stolen life. They thought I would willingly walk right back into my predetermined, gruesome death. Instead, I calmly pulled off the five-carat diamond ring, dropped it on the table, and turned to expose the cousin's trap to protect the real heiress. This time, I am rewriting the script./1/101151/coverorgin.jpg?v=6d51f267d40aa118fdcfa53f1bd1943d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Unwanted Mistress Becomes The Rival's Queen
The moment Damien shoved me into a waiter's tray to catch his brother's widow, I knew I had lost. For eight years, I was his sanctuary. But Vivian was carrying the "Family Heir," and that made her a saint. He didn't just catch her; he moved her into the Master Suite—the room he had promised to me—while I was relegated to the guest wing like a servant. When Vivian whispered the truth to me with a smirk—that her late husband was sterile and she had drugged Damien to fake the timeline—I rushed to tell him. "She's lying about the baby, Damien! Aaron was sterile!" But he didn't believe me. "Enough of your jealousy, Estelle," he roared, shielding her. "You will respect the mother of my legacy." To prove my submission, he forced me to take her wedding dress shopping. When a heavy iron rack tipped over in the boutique, Damien moved with inhuman speed. He dove to protect Vivian, wrapping her in a safe cocoon. He left me standing there. The metal crashed down, crushing my ribs and pinning me to the floor. As I gasped for air, tasting blood, I watched him carry her out without looking back once. I woke up in the hospital to the sound of him comforting her in the next room. He hadn't even asked if I survived. That night, I didn't cry. I ripped the IV from my arm, shredded every photo of us in the penthouse, and boarded a plane to a neutral territory where the Don's power meant nothing. By the time he found the engagement ring I left in the trash, I was already gone./1/105062/coverorgin.jpg?v=2f700df43d3b017203159b0511d9fbe6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Secret Heir In Her Arms
I returned to New York with a broken suitcase and exactly three hundred and forty-two dollars in my bank account. My mother was dying in a public hospital, and the only treatment that could save her required a fifty-thousand-dollar deposit I didn't have. While I was pleading with the billing department, I ran into my billionaire ex, Gannon Sharpe, and his cruel fiancée, Aleta. Without a second thought, Aleta slapped me so hard my lip split, kicking my belongings across the floor and calling me a gold-digging thief in front of the entire staff. I looked at Gannon, the man I once loved more than my own life, hoping for a shred of mercy. Instead, he looked at me with pure revulsion and told me I belonged in the gutter. He believed the lies his grandfather told him—that I had abandoned him after his car crash and vanished with millions. He had no idea I was the one who actually pulled him from that burning wreckage, or that I was currently skipping meals in a moldy motel just so our secret son could have formula. He called me "disgusting" and walked away, leaving me to rot. I wanted to scream that I was the genius scientist who wrote his company’s core algorithms, and that the child he didn’t know existed was shivering with a fever only blocks away. But the ironclad NDA I signed to save my family kept me silent, even as Gannon looked at me like I was something he’d stepped in. Desperate for health insurance to save my mother and son, I took a bottom-tier data entry job in the basement of Gannon’s own tower, intending to stay invisible. But when a billion-dollar error threatened to bankrupt his empire, I couldn't stop myself from hacking the system to fix the code. Now, the man who hates me is standing in my cubicle, demanding to know how a "dropout" knows his most guarded secrets. Gannon is finally digging into my past, and he’s about to find out exactly what—and who—I’ve been hiding for the last four years./0/82848/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106201223&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Their Secret, His Silence
My wife, Isabella, spoon-fed me, helped me dress, and assured everyone my hands were useless after the accident. They didn't know I' d secretly regained full strength weeks ago, my dexterity sharper than ever. And they certainly didn' t know I was stone-cold awake that night as Isabella brought Liam into our bed, whispering about my 'dependence' and 'broken' state. Then, on her unlocked phone, the messages flashed: "Our baby, our secret. Ethan will never know. He' s too broken." My breath caught, but my practiced smile remained mildly confused as she handed me back my phone, reminding me not to wait up as she left for "girls' night." The humiliation of being a cuckolded, disabled husband burned, but it was quickly replaced by a cold, meticulous resolve. They thought me broken, a helpless burden? Good. Let them continue to underestimate the architect who was meticulously designing his escape, piece by agonizing piece. The first step was dropping the pretense, and then, slowly, deliberately, dropping the bomb on their perfect betrayal./0/82379/coverorgin.jpg?v=99b357238a3d6eb8563c738cf7b9ec48&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Stepsister's Dark Gift
I was Olivia Miller, the quiet, studious pre-med student from a prominent family. My stepsister, Izzy, was the dazzling socialite, everyone' s favorite, effortlessly getting what she wanted. Then, the unexplained began. Dark bruises marred my skin, then alarming hickeys appeared on my neck, though I hadn' t been with anyone. My family's judgment quickly fell, and Izzy, with sugary sweetness, presented me with an antique silver locket-a "family heirloom for protection." New marks appeared the very next day. The humiliation peaked at a prestigious university conference. Mid-speech, I collapsed at the podium, bleeding inexplicably, as gasps rippled through the auditorium. Doctors found no cause, yet whispers of a "wild lifestyle" and "secret abortion" turned me from star student into campus scandal. My fiancé, Ethan, suggested our engagement be "transferred" to Izzy, citing my "embarrassing behavior." My appearance-obsessed parents believed every lie. How could these things happen? Why did Izzy always look so perfect, radiating health, while my body and reputation disintegrated under the weight of these bizarre, unexplainable marks? The injustice and confusion were unbearable, trapping me. But then, the world reset. I was back at the podium, exact same moment, the same horrific pain beginning. As my vision blurred, I saw Izzy' s face in the crowd: a sliver of dark satisfaction beneath her practiced concern. This time, I wouldn't just collapse. I understood the curse. Izzy had just handed me the weapon to turn it back on her./1/103498/coverorgin.jpg?v=4b4dbcbefa522cf22d61634941a00903&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Prophecy, Her Shattered Spirit
Four miscarriages had shattered my spirit, but it was my husband Blake' s silence that truly killed me. I was supposed to be his destined partner, the vessel for the twin sons who would secure his family' s real estate empire, all according to his spiritual guru. Then I discovered the truth at a secret celebration. There stood Blake, beaming beside his high school sweetheart, Chyna, who held two newborn sons. "The prophecy is fulfilled!" the guru declared. My world imploded. Blake called me a "placeholder," admitting he' d orchestrated my miscarriages because those weren't the "destined" children. He moved Chyna into our home, gave her sons the names I had chosen for mine, and even destroyed my mother's rose garden, claiming its "negative energy" was making the babies sick. He then forced me into a brutal "purification" ritual that left me scarred and broken, all to "cleanse" the house for his new family. My agony was just an inconvenient part of his twisted plan. I escaped and built a new life, finding love with a kind man and his son. But just as I accepted his proposal, Blake found me, his eyes blazing with obsession. "You're mine, Amelia," he growled. "And you will return with me, or I will make sure you regret it!"/0/77686/coverorgin.jpg?v=4598cf76ea4ab53bef338c8e9e8ad116&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Marry The Ceo Politician
"Which politician will marry a woman who went to prison for murder?" Vivian Shelton just got out of prison and she received the shock of her life – she found her boyfriend in bed with someone else. Her devastation made her end up in the bed of an unknown man but life wasn't about to treat her right. Kurt Nelson is a 47 years old billionaire who has his chains of investments all over New York. The moment he goes into politics, he needs just one thing to win against his opponent. A bride. But he is old, rich and good looking. After his past relationships, Aiden didn't just want any woman, he wants a classy woman that meets his own standard. But having a woman came at a great cost Aiden didn't even have the money to pay for./1/101934/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106222101&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Seven Years, A Secret Family
I took a bullet for my husband, Colt, a decorated Delta Force operator. The injury left me barren, but he swore I was all he ever needed. Seven years later, I found him in a restaurant with another woman and a six-year-old boy who looked just like him. The boy called him "Dada." My world shattered when I learned his family, his friends, and even my own father knew about his secret life. They all watched as he paraded his mistress, Chelsey, and their son, Jemal, in front of me. He even admitted I was just a "means to an end" for his family's legacy. When Jemal went missing, Chelsey accused me of kidnapping him. Colt believed her. He locked me in our cellar for three days, a punishment for a crime I didn't commit. "He's not a bastard!" Colt roared when I questioned if the boy was even his. "He's my son! My blood!" But his eyes darted away, filled with uncertainty. As I stumbled out of the cellar, bruised and broken, my best friend arrived. "The divorce papers are filed, Em," she whispered fiercely. "It's done." I looked back at Colt, standing stunned on the porch. His empire of lies was crumbling, and I was finally free./1/113354/coverorgin.jpg?v=56d3308a3230fe4ceaa4b7059ea5f1d9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
He's The Last To Know Her Power
"I want a divorce." I was eight months pregnant. He didn't know. For three years, I fixed every SEC filing he signed. Caught every error. Kept his billion-dollar firm clean. He never once asked what I did all day. When he said those three words over dinner, I didn't cry. I didn't beg. I just smiled and said, "Okay." Then I went upstairs, unlocked my study—the room he never entered—and pulled out a lease for a Brooklyn apartment. Incorporation papers for my own firm. And a folder full of evidence that could send his company up in flames. He thought he was divorcing a wife. He was actually firing the only person keeping him out of federal prison. Now his partners want to sue me. His mother is panicking. And he's been sitting in a hospital waiting room for seven hours—just for a chance to hold our daughter. He spent three years not seeing me. Now? He can't look away. My name is Nora Kidd. And I'm just getting started./0/94738/coverorgin.jpg?v=6349b18e21ae72fdf395350c85092221&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Prisoner No More, Queen Of The Game
Imprisoned at twenty and freed at twenty-three, she spent three years sharpening her skills-enough to crush her enemies. In her previous life, she was betrayed by her parents and brother, taking the fall for an impostor's crime. Tortured in prison while the impostor lived in luxury, she died with hatred in her heart-only to awaken at the start of her sentence. This time, innocence abandoned, she mastered finance, combat, and power behind bars. Three years later, she emerged as a force in business. Her revenge set in motion, a ruthless tycoon appeared. He cornered her against the wall, his fingers tracing her neck as his voice dropped to a low, dangerous whisper. "Let me join your quest for revenge."/1/105063/coverorgin.jpg?v=b90b70bf7c2465a9ef2023d3e7250f3b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Billionaire's Secret Heir: Sign the Divorce
I spent three years as the perfect, silent wife to billionaire Ezequiel Sanford, enduring a marriage colder than the marble floors of our Manhattan mansion. The day I finally saw two pink lines on a pregnancy test was the same day my world burned down. I found Ezequiel at the hospital, but he wasn't there for me. He was cradling his ex-girlfriend, Alexa, with a gentleness he had never shown me, while my own father was being rushed into the ICU after a suicide attempt triggered by our family's bankruptcy. Instead of comfort, Ezequiel handed me divorce papers. He had checked a box that read "No Issue of Marriage," effectively erasing any claim I had to his legacy. He blackmailed me, promising to save my father’s company only if I signed away every cent of alimony and walked away with nothing. When Alexa called him claiming an emergency, Ezequiel shoved me aside so violently I hit the sharp corner of his glass desk. As I collapsed to the floor, clutching my abdomen in sudden, searing pain, he didn't even look back. "Stop acting," he sneered, his voice dripping with disgust. "It’s pathetic. I will never love you, Claudia, no matter how many times you fall down." He walked out to be with her, leaving me bleeding on his office carpet with the secret he had spent years trying to avoid. He thought I was a gold-digger faking a crisis, never realizing I was actually carrying the Sanford heir he claimed didn't exist. Now, I’m hiding in a private clinic while my husband’s security team scours the city for me. My childhood friend just handed me a one-way ticket to Paris and a chance to restart the medical career I sacrificed for a lie. The money just hit my father's account. I’m signing the papers and disappearing. By the time Ezequiel realizes what he’s lost, I’ll be a world away, and he’ll never even know my child’s name./1/115075/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260507194615&imageMogr2/format/webp)
A Yale Scholarship For His Lies
My boyfriend, Jefferson, convinced me to give up my Yale scholarship for him. He was my secret, my escape from the shame of my mother's past, and I threw away my future for our love. Then, at a gala, he publicly announced his engagement to Aubrey Carroll-the girl who made my high school years a living hell. He trapped me in his mansion, forcing me to become her personal servant. She tortured me daily, culminating in her brutally killing our dog, Charlie, with a garden trowel. When her friends arrived, they joined in, stripping me half-naked and live-streaming my panic attack for the world to see. The man who once promised to protect me watched as they destroyed me. But as I lay bleeding out on the floor, it wasn't an ambulance that arrived. It was the private security of Alexzander Stevens-my estranged, billionaire grandfather. He revealed I was his sole heiress, and now, we were going to make them pay for every last tear./1/106471/coverorgin.jpg?v=4c036505d498e02449e73c06276225ad&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The CEO's Substitute: Love In London
My husband Kamden and I were the most powerful couple in New York, an unbreakable alliance of wealth and influence. To the world, we were perfect, especially with our new baby daughter, Penny, waiting for us at home. But the illusion shattered at the Jasper Stone gala when Cason Vincent walked in. He wasn't just a rival; he was a dead ringer for Kamden—a cruel, predatory mirror image who seemed to know the secrets of the year I spent in London. In front of the city’s elite, a socialite screamed that I was a fraud, accusing me of using Kamden as a "substitute" for the man I truly loved. The music stopped, and the room turned into a sea of judgmental whispers. I expected my husband to shield me, but the paranoia in his eyes was sharper than any rumor. He grabbed my scarred left hand—the one I had ruined to save his life years ago—and squeezed it until I winced in pain. "Am I just a replacement?" he hissed, his voice trembling with a terrifying insecurity. He didn't see the wife who had sacrificed her world-class piano career for him; he saw a woman who had settled for a copy. The injustice of it felt like a physical blow. I had destroyed my body and my future to keep him safe, yet he was ready to believe a stranger’s lies over three years of marriage. He didn't want the truth; he wanted me to beg for his forgiveness for a sin I never committed. I realized then that my silence wasn't an admission of guilt, but my last shred of dignity. I pulled my hand away and walked out of the gala alone, leaving Kamden standing face-to-face with the man who had come to dismantle our lives./1/100370/coverorgin.jpg?v=3bf922497a568e09cf4f0ea5cf1b615b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Eight Years Of His Lies
For eight years, I gave up everything to protect my son from his deadly peanut allergy. This meant three months of crushing loneliness every winter while he and his father, Greg, lived in a separate "allergy-free zone." I called it lonely; my doctors called it seasonal depression. But the allergy was a lie. I overheard them through the apartment door-Greg, my son Josh, and Brittany, his high school sweetheart. They were feeding my son his allergen on purpose. "Just a little bit to keep the allergy strong," Greg coached him. It was their ticket for a secret life. When Josh was later hospitalized for a reaction, he cried for Brittany, not me. "Mommy's always sad," he whimpered, as she swept in to play the hero. Then I discovered the pills Greg gave me for my "depression" were actually powerful sedatives. He wasn't just lying; he was drugging me to keep me docile and confused. The final blow was our marriage certificate-a worthless fake. He had built my entire world on a foundation of deceit. So I walked out, leaving him to the mess he created, ready to reclaim the life he stole from me./1/105376/coverorgin.jpg?v=ef1db1b43ca908dd55a0bdf9bb4d35d4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Billionaire's Genius Wife's Ultimate Cold Revenge
My five-year-old daughter was turning blue in my arms, her body rigid with a 104-degree fever. I called my billionaire husband, Clifton, dozens of times as I rushed to the hospital, but he declined every single call. While I was screaming at doctors and fighting to save our child’s life, a news alert flashed on my phone. Clifton was at the Met Gala, looking devastatingly handsome as he intimately draped his tuxedo jacket over the shoulders of his mistress, Eleanora. The nightmare didn't end at the hospital. Clifton used a secret clause in our prenup to snatch Lily from her bed and move her to a private facility without my consent. When I finally found her, my own daughter shrank away from me in terror. "Go away, bad Mommy!" she sobbed, while the mistress fed her oatmeal and whispered that I was the one who made the doctors hurt her. Clifton stood by and watched, telling me I was too "hysterical" to be a mother. But then I discovered the real reason they were hiding her. My husband was illegally using my late mother’s rare bone marrow samples to treat Eleanora’s secret blood disorder. Now that those samples are failing, he is taking Lily to a secluded castle in Germany to harvest our daughter’s marrow for his mistress. I sat in the dark, watching them play happy family with the child they plan to sacrifice. I realized then that my marriage wasn't just a lie—it was a biological harvest. They think I’m just a broken trophy wife who doesn't understand the science they are using to destroy me. They have no idea that I am "Ghost," the anonymous medical genius behind the very research they are trying to steal. As we board the private jet to Germany, I’ve stopped crying and started calculating. If they want to play with life and death, I’ll show them exactly what happens when a mother stops being a victim and starts being a predator./0/86760/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106212356&imageMogr2/format/webp)
