Modern Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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When The Past Love Knocks
My mom is pressuring me to go on blind dates. On a whim, I grabbed a handsome guy off the street to pretend to be my boyfriend. After taking advantage of him, I dumped him. Two years later, the interviewer turns out to be my ex-boyfriend whom I had abandoned. His face darkens. "Kaelyn, right? How long did your last boyfriend last?" "Less than a month before you dumped him? Your loyalty is questionable." "A girl like you isn't suitable for our company." But he broke down when he found out I got married. The day after the interview was a bust, he was waiting at my doorstep, holding a child. He smiled and asked, "Married? Where's your husband?"/0/80683/coverorgin.jpg?v=2c1b7f4ad559ac5f0dad7ac2ff2ef8ef&imageMogr2/format/webp)
No More Miss Nice Wife
My husband Ethan and I had built a life together. Ten years of marriage, my career and inheritance poured into his rising tech venture, Innovatech, all from our beautiful Hamptons home. On our tenth anniversary, a young woman named Chloe Washington arrived, her words like a knife: "I'm pregnant. It's Ethan's. You need to divorce him." She had photos. Ethan confirmed it, unapologetically stating he needed an "heir" due to my infertility. He publicly paraded Chloe, even setting her up in an Innovatech office next to his. When I confronted him, Chloe feigned a fall, and Ethan, in a fit of rage, threatened to call security on me, the woman who built his empire. My decade of sacrifice—my youth, my money, my identity—all dismissed as he gaslit me, calling me "hysterical." How could he betray me so utterly, then demand I remain "reasonable" while he erased me from our life? As Ethan extended his hand for the phone, a chilling calm replaced my heartbreak. The broken wife was gone. I dialed the only number that mattered, initiating a battle he never saw coming./0/93661/coverorgin.jpg?v=40907a3d7ca916da100f73601d72ddf2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Betrayal, Her Unbreakable Love Story
On my twenty-second birthday, I held my future in my hands: a prestigious fellowship to Cambridge, paid for with my entire life savings. But my brothers decided that future belonged to our adopted sister, Ava. They took every penny I had to pay for her "emergency" cosmetic surgery. When I protested, they called me selfish and cruel. "If you can't be compassionate," my brother Dante sneered, "then get out." They chose a liar's crocodile tears over their own sister's dream. Days later, while they were on the luxurious Hawaiian vacation they had always promised me, I saw the pictures. Ava, radiant and scar-free, smiling between my two doting brothers. My future had been traded for her nose job and a beach trip. That was when the call came. A top-secret, fifteen-year medical research project. No contact with the outside world. A life sentence for some, but for me, it was a lifeline. I packed a single bag, left the proof of Ava's lies on the table for my brothers to find, and walked away forever./0/84252/coverorgin.jpg?v=e4b596915d628c3f993118783d333343&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Twin They Tried To Erase: My Mother's Million-Dollar Lie
My final ballet scholarship audition was supposed to be my destiny. Instead, I found myself in a police interrogation room, accused of stealing from a sick girl. My own mother sat beside me, dabbing fake tears, whispering for me to confess to a "moment of weakness" while orchestrating my ruin. They showed me a security photo of a girl who looked exactly like me stuffing cash from a donation box. I denied it, but the overwhelming evidence, coupled with my mother' s performance, painted me as a desperate thief, shattering my ballet dreams and reputation. I couldn' t understand why my mother, the one person who should have supported me, was so determined to destroy my life. For years, she had subtly sabotaged my auditions-a slippery substance on my pointe shoes causing a career-ending injury, a powerful laxative in my "power smoothie" making me miss another crucial tryout. Now, she was pushing me to confess to a crime I didn't commit, driving me to the brink of suicide. Lying in a hospital bed after a desperate overdose, a chilling truth clicked into place: my grandmother' s multi-million dollar trust fund, accessible at 21 or upon "significant professional success," would go to my mother if I died or was deemed incompetent. It was never about my ballet; it was about the inheritance, and every "accident" was a calculated attempt to break me. In that moment, I knew I had to fight back, not as a victim, but with every fiber of my being./1/113777/coverorgin.jpg?v=6c9d1da076ddba0fc40c9e17cdbb180b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Late For Regret: The Assistant's Revenge
For three years, Christina was Jackson Booker’s flawless executive assistant by day and his secret lover by night. That was until she overheard him planning his high-profile marriage to heiress Carson Wall, casually telling his partners that Christina would be easily disposed of. "Once the merger is finalized, I'll cut her a severance check. It's a non-issue." When she tried to resign, Jackson tore up her letter, forcefully assaulted her in his private elevator, and declared she was his property. The nightmare only escalated. At a corporate gala, Jackson literally handed her over to a sleazy, violent client just to secure a logistics contract. "Mr. Boggs is a VIP guest, Christina. Don't disappoint him." While Jackson walked away, the client dragged her into a hotel room and attempted to assault her. She barely escaped with her life, saved only by Jackson's powerful rival, Gaston Carter. But the ultimate humiliation came the next morning. Jackson's new fiancée, Carson, cornered Christina in the office. Carson knew everything. She deliberately pressed her manicured fingers into the fresh, dark bruises on Christina's shoulder, smiling sweetly. "You are a stress-relief toy, Christina. A dirty little secret he keeps on the payroll. And now that I am here, your playtime is over." Christina couldn't understand how the man she loved could treat her like a disposable animal, allowing his bride to torture her for sport. As she sat on the cold floor, her phone buzzed with a text from Gaston. "Let me know when you are ready to stop being a victim." The crushing despair in her chest ignited into a hot, burning fury. She picked up her phone and typed back. "I'm ready. Where do we meet?"/1/117346/coverorgin.jpg?v=2990e3ef9ca62090166c0f3b55c2fce4&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Left For Dead: The Vengeful Ex-Wife
I was bleeding out in the delivery room, begging my husband to save me. Instead, Preston coldly refused the emergency procedure, watching my heart monitor like a stock ticker. My half-sister Sienna strolled in, wearing Chanel and a triumphant smirk, wrapping her arm around him. They had planned this all along to steal my family's company. "Did you really think he loved you?" Sienna whispered, leaning over my dying body to deliver the final blow. "The baby isn't even his. You've been raising another man's child." The betrayal crushed the last breath out of me, and the monitor flatlined into a piercing tone. I died right there, a stepping stone for the monsters I called family. But a mysterious, powerful man named Nox ordered the doctors to revive me with an experimental drug. Three years later, I returned to New York, completely transformed. Preston and Sienna, now facing corporate ruin, were desperately begging for an audience with the elusive Dr. Jocelyn to save their business. They had no idea that I was the doctor's gatekeeper. When they heard my voice denying their request, their faces drained of color. But ruining them was just the beginning. When the ruthless billionaire Damien Sinclair tried to kidnap me, I escaped and accidentally took his son, mistaking the boy for my own missing child. I swore I would take everything from the people who wronged me, and now, the real game had just begun./1/115075/coverorgin.jpg?v=8a0d603fc870d44a5a7dbb9f856c1bae&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./1/102746/coverorgin.jpg?v=0df98c8501124c0c6d6447219fa53ce2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Betrayal, Her Shattered Heart
I lost my leg saving my husband, Kingsley. My ballet career was over, but my dying mother had secured a perfect heart transplant for my sister, Julia. We had hope. Then Kingsley gave her heart away. He and his mistress traded it for a business deal. Julia died. When I confronted him at the hospital, he shoved me against a wall. The fall didn't just shatter my world; it caused me to miscarry the baby I never knew I was carrying. In a single night, he took my sister and my child. As I lay bleeding on the floor, I looked at the man I once sacrificed everything for and made a promise. "You will regret this for the rest of your life." I divorced him and disappeared. A year and a half later, he found me, a broken man begging for forgiveness. I looked him in the eye and gave him my final answer. "There are no second chances for murder."/0/86848/coverorgin.jpg?v=9538a937dba38d39ca235388a370ff26&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Unmasking A Monster: My Husband's Lies
After we made love, my husband Ethan always did the same thing: he'd pull out papers for me to sign, saying it was just business. I trusted him completely, signing without reading, believing he was handling the boring paperwork so I could focus on my tech company. Then, one night, I heard him on the phone with his childhood friend, Sarah Jenkins. "It' s done, Sarah. I got the last signature." They were draining my accounts, framing me for fraud, and planning to leave me bankrupt and facing prison. My world shattered. This wasn' t just about money; they had meticulously planned this revenge for five years, fueled by a petty college misunderstanding. Every kiss, every "I love you" had been a calculated lie. The man I married was a monster. The betrayal deepened when I discovered I was pregnant. Before I could process the news, Ethan, knowing how my absence for doctor' s appointments would raise questions, took me to the hospital, ostensibly for confirmation. But on the way, he sped up, deliberately causing a car crash that made me lose our baby. Temporarily blinded by the impact and drowning in grief, I was coerced into signing away everything, believing they were insurance forms. It wasn't an accident. I overheard him tell Sarah, "The accident worked perfectly… No more baby to complicate things." He murdered our child. How could the man I loved, the father of my child, be such a cold, calculating killer? How could I have been so blind, so trusting? My love had been his weapon, and his every act, a betrayal beyond imagination. But they had underestimated me. I was Chloe Miller, CEO. And I wasn' t just a broken woman; I was a woman scorned, ready for war./1/115724/coverorgin.jpg?v=d1a0d897dcea4cf2ef1dc7f1a4e51e3f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Too Late For Regret: My Billionaire Savior
Charlotte checked her location-sharing app when her fiancé Bradly claimed he was stuck in bridge traffic. Instead, she found him parked two blocks away, letting his first love playfully twist his silk tie. "Charlotte is just a safe backup plan." Hearing him say those words shattered her completely, but throwing the ring in his face was only the beginning of her nightmare. Her parents stormed into her apartment, furious that the broken engagement ruined their corporate funding, and tried to physically assault her. When that failed, her family rushed to the hospice where her grandmother was dying. They dragged the frail woman up by her armpits, forcing a pen into her trembling hand to steal her only apartment building. When Charlotte threw herself over the bed to protect her, her own mother clawed her neck, and her father swung a metal IV pole at her head. The sheer terror was too much, and her grandmother's heart monitor flatlined. Charlotte wept on the floor, unable to understand how her own flesh and blood could trade her for investments and torture a dying woman out of pure greed. But at the funeral, when her parents smugly handed her a lawsuit to seize the assets, Charlotte didn't shed a single tear. "If you don't drop this suit by tomorrow, I will counter-sue you for malicious prosecution." She pulled out a ten-year-old property deed with her own name on it, crushing their greedy dreams instantly. Then, she put on her sharpest black suit and headed to her ex-fiancé's company to completely dismantle his family's empire./0/83928/coverorgin.jpg?v=5d2a230e1fa678fec12ae5798f6fc503&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Her Billion-Dollar Betrayal
My hands were calloused from years on construction sites, every ache a testament to the future Gabrielle and I were building. That future shattered when she burst into tears, claiming our life savings – eighty thousand dollars – had vanished in a crypto scam. "It' s okay, Gabby," I told her, holding her tight, even as my world crumbled. I promised we' d make it back, taking extra shifts, my mom Maria even offering to help clean at the Rittenhouse Grand. Then the hospital called. My mom, Maria, was in the ER, her hands brutally crushed by a hammer. The hotel claimed she' d "accidentally spilled a drink" on a guest. My blood ran cold, a rage I never knew I possessed simmering beneath the surface. I stormed to the Rittenhouse, my fury set on finding the monster who did this. But hidden in a private dining room, I found Gabrielle. My wife. She was laughing, adorned in silk, handing a man a "bouquet" of rolled-up hundred-dollar bills. "That old hag who bumped into you?" she cooed, "I had security take care of her. They broke her fingers and threw her out." My mother. Not an accident, but a cruel, calculated act. And the $80,000? "It was for that custom suit of yours," she told the man, "the one the old cleaner ruined." My world didn't just tilt; it imploded. Everything I believed, everything I loved, was a lie. My mother, now maimed, screamed for me to save her bone fragments from being fed to dogs. And just moments later, Gabrielle was demanding tequila for her Four Seasons suite. How could the woman I vowed to love be such a monster? How could my mother' s agonizing pain be the cost of a suit and a twisted game? I carried her secrets, her fears, as the doctor confirmed her hands were permanently destroyed. But when Gabrielle, in the same hospital, offered to buy my dying mother' s organs for Ethan' s family, claiming she was a "disgruntled ex," then hung up on me because Ethan' s mother was critical, a cold resolve settled deep in my gut. What kind of hell was this, and how could I make her pay?/0/90417/coverorgin.jpg?v=c57bc683720a4d152af6468b6f8b79cb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
She Destroyed Her Husband's Family to Take Revenge
Five years ago, Dinah Flynn married Jeffrey Scott, although everyone had objections. She loved nothing but his face, especially his eyes. She loved him so much that she could tolerate his infidelity. Even when she found out he had brought a mistress to their home for three days and nights, Dinah was not angry. "Jeffrey has gone too far! Dinah, have you truly fallen for him?" Dinah looked at her furious friend and answered earnestly, "As long as I can see his face, I can always forgive him and will always love him. I owe him this." A day later, Jeffrey and his mistress were in a car accident while they were out on a trip. He was left with a scar on his face that would never heal. Dinah left him coldly and disappeared from his world completely. Later, he got down before her and asked her why. She gently traced the scar by his eye and felt her heart ache more. "Jeffrey, he died one more time because of you."/1/116373/coverorgin.jpg?v=65e3ac760d407dfe90893f575eacb7f8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Forced Marriage To The Possessive Tycoon
My cousin and my ex-fiancé drugged me and locked me in a luxury hotel room with a stranger. Two weeks later, I sat on my worn mattress, staring at the two pink lines on a pregnancy test. Suddenly, my front door was violently kicked off its hinges. Axel Sterling, a ruthless billionaire, stepped through the shattered wood. He threw surveillance photos at my feet, accusing me of being a calculating gold digger who set him up. "You have twenty-four hours to terminate it, or I will end you both myself." He dragged me to a private clinic and forced me onto a cold examination table. His grandmother intervened just in time, forcing him to marry me to protect the family bloodline. But my nightmare only deepened. Axel locked me in his sprawling estate, treating me like a prisoner and a temporary incubator. His wealthy relatives bullied me daily, mocking the horrific chemical burns on my face and trying to scald me with boiling food. I was an innocent victim, yet I was trapped with a husband who threatened to throw me in the river and a family that treated me like a repulsive monster. But none of them knew my real face. In the dead of night, I locked my bathroom door and peeled off the silicone burn prosthetic to reveal my flawless skin. I pulled out an encrypted burner phone and checked my hidden offshore bank accounts. I would play the weak, disfigured victim for now, because I was going to use the Sterling family's immense power to completely destroy everyone who framed me./0/84577/coverorgin.jpg?v=d250a4bcf8c39a692ae50c03381e245d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
A Perfect Lie
The house was eerily silent, the kind of quiet that sinks into your bones. Ethan searched every empty room, calling her name, but only the silence echoed back. Then he saw it on the kitchen island: a divorce agreement, her elegant signature a final, chilling statement. He raced to all their special spots-the bookstore, the café, the park where he proposed-but she was nowhere. Finally, he arrived at the art studio he' d built for her, a sanctuary poured out of his millions, only to find it as desolate as his heart. Her drafting table was bare, canvases gone-everything that made it hers, vanished. He remembered her warning, words brushed off as a lover's insecurity: "I don't tolerate betrayal. Even once, and I'll vanish completely." He' d laughed then, sure he' d never give her cause. But the words now echoed, a haunting judgment. Thousands of miles away, the woman who was once Ava whispered, "From now on, there is no Ava. Only Olivia." A news article flashed on her phone: "Real Estate Mogul Ethan and Architect Wife Ava: A Perfect Partnership." Perfect, she scoffed, a bitter laugh in the quiet taxi. It had all been a perfect lie, and she, the architect who built dreams, was about to meticulously dismantle his./1/104044/coverorgin.jpg?v=a94acb3a1839ba0e646c29dda32dc1f2&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Curse, Their Endless Guilt
I was born with a curse. I see a shimmering, crimson timer above everyone's head, counting down to the exact moment of their death. For this, my family has treated me like a monster for eighteen years, blaming me for every tragedy I foresaw. On my 21st birthday, the timer finally appeared above my own head. I had twenty-four hours left to live. I spent my last day preparing a feast, a desperate plea for one final family dinner. With only minutes to spare, I called my eldest brother, Fredrick, my voice breaking. "Please, just come home," I sobbed. "I'm going to die tonight." His response was colder than the grave. "Are you really so desperate for attention that you'd stoop to such pathetic lies?" Then, I heard the click of the line going dead. I died alone at that table, surrounded by the food no one came to eat. But my death wasn't the end. It was the beginning of their nightmare, a personal hell of guilt they could never escape./1/104693/coverorgin.jpg?v=ed7824500d422c910ea50d95931ed25a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
He Chose His Secret Wife Over Me
I reached for my fiancé's phone to silence an alarm and found a hidden folder named "The Protocol." Inside was a spreadsheet that systematically dismantled my entire existence. Task 399: Buy blue hydrangeas. Note: Her favorite. For Denzel. Task 400: Schedule anniversary dinner. Note: Make sure she feels special. For Denzel. In that heartbeat, I realized the man I had loved for three years hadn't looked at me once without seeing a chore list left by his dead brother. I wasn't Elfrieda Stewart, the woman Jaxon Tate loved. I was a legacy project. The truth turned lethal at our engagement gala. When a massive chandelier detached from the ceiling, Jaxon didn't lunge for me. He tackled his "ex" Janice—who I later discovered was his secret wife—to safety. He left me standing in the center of the target to be crushed by shattering glass. But the cruelty didn't end there. On a "reconciliation" yacht trip, Janice pushed me overboard. Jaxon looked at me struggling in the freezing black water, then threw the life preserver to her. He saved the shark and left me to drown. I lost everything in that water, including the unborn child I hadn't even told him about. He thought I was dead. He thought he was free to play house with Janice. But my brother pulled me from the darkness. And when I resurfaced in Norway, wearing the ring of a man far more dangerous than Jaxon could ever dream of being, Jaxon realized too late that he had destroyed the only thing that could have saved him./0/85875/coverorgin.jpg?v=3b31b19a2a2e01658b12d44c746c332c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Live Stream Slut No More
The fluorescent hum of the hospital room mocked the silence where my joy should have been. I had just given my son, Liam, a kidney, a piece of myself to save his life. My husband, Robert Sterling, texted me heart emojis, calling me a hero. Then, a detective called, informing me Robert had been kidnapped. An unknown number sent a video: Robert, bruised and tied, a distorted voice demanding a humiliating live-streamed performance from me to save him. For three nights, I became a public spectacle, the "Live Stream Slut," watching my hard-earned reputation, my mother's esteemed design firm, crumble into dust. Robert returned, weeping, promising forever, while the police found nothing, and the world condemned me. I lost everything, my life shrinking to a quiet existence, shielded by what I thought was their love. Five years later, I overheard Liam and Robert. Liam's voice was cold, talking about Scarlett, my stepsister. Robert chuckled, a cruel sound, revealing the "kidnapping" was a fake, a brilliant scheme to destroy me, hand my company to his mistress, and give my precious kidney to her instead of our son. My heart shattered, then hardened. They thought they had broken me. They were wrong. I quietly began to mend my wings, searching for jobs far away, connecting with the best divorce lawyer, and plunging into their meticulously crafted financial labyrinth. I wasn't just leaving. I was going to burn their world to the ground./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./0/84253/coverorgin.jpg?v=dfb6c395f1865336bb7ad0ae4ca7d245&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My Sweetest Escape
My last breath was a ragged gasp at 48, my heart giving out from sheer exhaustion. The final image burned into my mind: my husband, Matthew, laughing at a lavish birthday party with Stella, his mistress, who had gotten rich from a real estate boom built on my stolen money. Then, I woke up, 23 again, weeks before my wedding to that very man. In my first life, I was a trusting fool, sacrificing everything for a man who drained me dry and used my inheritance to fund his mistress's rise. I realized the cruel irony: his opulent life was built on my hidden sweat, my endless labor, while I toiled for a family that wasn't even truly mine. This time, things would be different. This time, I would protect what was mine and claim the life they stole./0/86200/coverorgin.jpg?v=46a7b12cb36164a4aabaef0d56f5049e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
