Sci-fi Books for Women
Bestsellers Ongoing Completed
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The 100% Lie
For ten years, I lived my perfect California dream. A tech CEO husband, a brilliant son, a sprawling mansion, and a System telling me my husband' s affection was a solid 100%. This was my hard-earned reward, my permanent escape from a gray Ohio past. Then the doorbell rang and everything shattered. Standing there was Chloe Davis, Mark' s college sweetheart, looking unsettlingly like me. My shy son, Leo, ran and hugged her, crying, "Aunt Chloe!" My smile vanished. My perfect life spiraled into a nightmare. Mark abandoned me burning with fever to celebrate Chloe' s birthday with our son, then shamelessly lied about car troubles. I found his phone password wasn't our anniversary, but hers. And when Chloe deliberately triggered my severe shellfish allergy, my own husband stood by, indifferent, declaring, "Chloe is pregnant with my child." The System still glowed with 100% affection, but that number felt like a cruel, meaningless lie. Was I just a temporary placeholder, an understudy until the original returned to play my part? Had my entire perfect life been a meticulously crafted deception? When the System' s emergency protocol saved me from certain death, something inside me snapped. The truth was unbearable, but clear. I was out. Time to reclaim my real self, even if it meant leaving everything behind./0/85378/coverorgin.jpg?v=7393c3a15efed99716936b71ad44b629&imageMogr2/format/webp)
No More Tears, Only Retribution
The eviction notice, a cruel red rectangle, mocked me from my door. Just months ago, I was Chloe, the artist poised to revolutionize the world with Aura, my groundbreaking AI. Now, the world was closing in, air squeezed from my lungs. Then, at the sprawling Innovatech conference, the stage set for our triumph, my fiancé Mark unveiled Aura, which I poured my soul into, as his own. "I call her... Genesis," he boomed, "created solely by me." My best friend, Sarah, whose hand I held moments before, gazed at him with adoration, not outrage. The fallout was swift and brutal. Mark, the instant tech celebrity, branded me a disgruntled ex. Sarah, leveraging her gallery connections, systematically blacklisted me, painting me as unstable, a fraud. Calls unanswered, doors slammed shut-my life, my legacy, evaporated. I was a ghost in a rundown apartment, bearing an eviction notice, with nothing left. How could they? How could the two people I trusted most, the two people who were my family, betray me so completely, so publicly? The world had become a twisted, unrecognizable place where truth was irrelevant, and loyalty meant nothing. But in the ashes of utter despair, sifting through the remains of my life, my fingers brushed against my estranged father' s dusty hard drive-a digital arsenal of hacking tools and encrypted journals. The artist in me was dead, but something else, a chilling new resolve, began to stir. I would change my destiny, not by going back, but by going forward with skills they never saw coming./0/82876/coverorgin.jpg?v=326ab4b1b431df4d3b6b0198557f2d6f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Betrayed by Love, Forged by Billions
I'm Ava Hayes, an artist from New York, thrust into the billionaire Ashworth family after miraculously discovering I'm the late tech mogul Michael Hayes's biological daughter. I craved belonging, but my adoptive sister, Chloe, greeted me with a cruel "nine strikes" game, systematically dismantling my life and all I held dear. Then came Ethan, a charming musician, who swept me off my feet, seeming to offer genuine love and acceptance. Chloe's final strike was offering Ethan a million dollars to abandon me publicly at a gala. His declaration, "I choose Ava," felt like my triumph, a moment of real hope finally. But that night, I overheard him: Ethan Vance, CEO of a rival empire, chillingly confessing I was just a pawn to provoke Chloe and secure his revenge against my father. He' d planned to force me into a sham marriage with a comatose man, only to "rescue" and control me later, along with my father's invaluable AI, AURORA. Every gentle touch, every sweet word, was a calculated lie. The man I trusted, who I thought loved me, casually ordered his men to let me get crushed under a falling chandelier, all to protect Chloe. Lying in my hospital bed, I heard him plotting my indefinite "indisposition" with Chloe, confirming their cold, shared villainy. The shame, the betrayal, fueled a new, searing rage I' d never known. I realized I wasn't just a victim anymore. I would take Chloe's place, marry the comatose Captain Riley, but purely on my terms. He thought he was playing chess, but I was about to turn the board over. My secret weapon: my father' s AI, AURORA, and the billions in inheritance I was now claiming, ready to fight back against everyone who had wronged me. This time, I was playing for keeps./0/85379/coverorgin.jpg?v=74d7a5e9594430c465127bc19ef94aa3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
A Price For Her Ambition
The final line of code glowed emerald on my holographic interface, my AI masterpiece complete. Tomorrow was the launch, the culmination of years, ready to redefine my legacy. Then, Sarah, my co-founder and the woman who' d been by my side from the start, walked in. "I''m pulling out," she stated, her voice flat, abandoning our company just hours before launch. It was for Alex, her struggling protégé, an untalented kid whose AI was built on ethically questionable data. "You''re throwing all of this away for him?" I asked, a cold dread washing over me, knowing his project was doomed to fail. "I''ve already built one successful company; I can do it again with Alex," she shot back, adding, "Don''t be so jealous and ruin Alex''s big break! He has potential, real potential, more than you give him credit for." Just as I opened my mouth to protest, a terrifying news ticker flashed across my smart glasses: BREAKING: Tech mogul' s partner sabotaged; protégé' s AI caused widespread privacy breaches, leading to the mogul' s downfall and public disgrace! The future, my ruin, flashed before my eyes. I swallowed my protest. A new, chilling plan formed: I would let them fail, show them exactly what they' d given up. I leaned back, a calm smile on my face. "Okay. I''ll help you liquidate your shares and join Alex."/0/81312/coverorgin.jpg?v=888be179deed2edbb2aa393e6a1f2a61&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Savior They Scorned
After three grueling years fighting the Crimson Flu, using my own blood to create the vaccine that saved millions, I was finally home. Dr. Peterson from HHS was with me, ready to present my Presidential Medal of Freedom. All I wanted was to hold my wife, Sarah, and tell her the nightmare was over. But as I stepped out of the car, Sarah stood on the porch, her eyes wide with terror, not joy. Then my brother Mark emerged, cradling a hunting rifle, my parents cowering behind him. "You're infected!" my father yelled. "Stay back!" Before I could protest my immunity, my gaze fixed on Sarah' s visibly round stomach. Three years gone. It wasn' t my child. Mark smirked, "It' s mine." The world imploded. My own family, the people I fought and bled for, now saw me as a plague. They gave me two options: banishment to a brutal wilderness or slow death in a rat-infested jail. Mark, fueled by malice, sedated me, framed me as an aggressive superspreader, and convinced the entire town to burn me alive. The acrid smell of kerosene mingled with my profound shock and disbelief. How could they be so blind, so callous? So easily manipulated? My sacrifice, my heroism, meant nothing. Just as Mark raised a lit torch, sirens screamed. Dr. Peterson, bewildered, stepped out of a government SUV, holding a gleaming medal. "This," he boomed, "is for Alex Miller. His unique antibodies saved millions!" The mob froze. Mark, in a fit of rage, accidentally shattered a vial of aggressive live virus, splattering himself, my parents, and Sarah. As they began to sicken, I pulled out my phone, playing Mark' s own self-righteous words back to him. "You have a choice, Mark. The ranger station, or the jail. For the good of the community." I walked away. I didn't look back. My family reaped what they sowed. My true purpose, my freedom, lay beyond this hateful town./0/82568/coverorgin.jpg?v=784c7c1be7c68f0d5c0b2f9ff7bdc92a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Finding Fullness in Quiet
I stood there, presenting my research, my heart thrumming with artificially amplified love for Professor Alistair Finch. For three years, the "Aura Emboldener" patch had allowed me, Sarah Miller of the "Quiet Heart," to feel a full spectrum of emotions, to build a future, and to believe in our genuine connection. I' d gambled my entire inheritance on The Phoenix Initiative, hoping to permanently cure my lifelong emotional flatness. Then Alistair spoke, his voice smooth and utterly dismissive. "Sarah," he said, turning cooler, "this has been an interesting academic diversion." Beside him, Victoria Sterling smiled a small, knowing, unkind curve of her lips as he announced their engagement. His words hit me like a physical blow. My vibrant, borrowed emotional life, fueled by the patch, instantly felt like a branding iron. My phone buzzed: "Target unrecoverable. Mission failure. Await extraction." Extraction meant Reflection House, the patch removed, and a terrifying return to my "Quiet Heart," only this time, a profound apathy worse than before-a complete emotional flatline. How could my desperate journey to feel, my three years of intense, patch-fueled devotion, be dismissed as a mere "diversion"? How could I go back to a silent world, now knowing the joy and pain I'd experienced, only to feel nothing at all? The thought of this deeper silence, this absolute void, was terrifying. But what Alistair and The Phoenix Initiative didn't grasp was that this very blankness, this chilling apathy, would become my unexpected shield and my new path. With no emotions left to manipulate, I was finally free to refuse him, to see through their games, and to discover a truer, quieter connection awaiting me back home./0/82881/coverorgin.jpg?v=73d43946ffdf86b0c6e1a509fcd200a8&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Final Goodbye to the Past
It was Valentine's Day, also my daughter Lily's fifth birthday, and our San Francisco house buzzed with her party. Her innocent wish, spoken in perfect French, shattered my world: "I wish Mommy and Daddy would divorce, and Uncle Julian could be my new daddy." My wife Izzy confirmed her chilling desire, and the subsequent divorce papers, the mere fifty-million-dollar check, and pervasive public humiliation felt like the final blows. Every person I cared for-my wife, my daughter, my very own parents-echoed the same brutal sentiment: I was nothing but a convenience, easily discarded. Years of devotion, of caring for Izzy during her coma and raising Lily, yielded only cold dismissals and public scorn. My heart, already weakened by a secret chronic illness, shattered repeatedly, leaving me hollowed out and completely unvalued. Was my loyalty a curse? Had I truly been nothing but a 'placeholder'? With nothing left but bitter pain, a mysterious entity offered an 'exit'-a chance to leave this life behind. But death, it seemed, was merely a new beginning. I awoke to a reality where I was reborn, the highly respected screenwriter Ethan Cole, cured of my past ailments. Until a ghost from my previous life, my ex-wife and daughter, appeared, ready to 'reconquer' me. This time, the game was on my terms./0/85698/coverorgin.jpg?v=342f4b69c387a80bfc522681dea52fea&imageMogr2/format/webp)
From Genius Betrayed to Love Redeemed
They called me a genius once, the brightest star among thirteen protégées hand-picked by Dr. Silas Vance, the AI ethics pioneer. My reward for creating Nexus, the most advanced AI, was supposed to be a tech empire and the hand of Liam Vance, the man I' d loved my whole life, his adopted son. Instead, victory turned to ashes when Maya Chen, Liam's favorite, plunged from Vance Tower moments after my win, a tragic fall that sealed my fate. My wedding night wasn' t a celebration; it was the start of my execution, as Liam laid Maya's cold body between us, shrieking, "You stole everything from her, from me!" until his voice was hoarse. He shattered a mirror, forcing me to kneel on the shards, demanding, "Beg for her forgiveness. Ten thousand times." In the raw torment that followed, he injected me with hallucinogens, sending notorious hackers to tear my mind apart digitally, recording every horrifying moment. Then, he uploaded the videos, crafting a lie the world devoured: I was a "digital harlot" who drove innocent Maya to her death, a public shame that drowned my family, seizing their assets. When I woke, not in a grave but months before the competition's end, I knew what I had to do. With ice in my veins, I secretly swapped my masterpiece AI with Maya' s simple, flawed prototype; let her have the win, let her have Liam, let her have the toxic glory. This time, I just wanted to live, to break free from their twisted, profound connection that had nearly destroyed me; now, it would be their undoing./0/97121/coverorgin.jpg?v=49a4e662606108e8c235a2eb15235674&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Jilted Wife's Brilliant New Life
As the world burned outside our penthouse, my husband secured two tickets to the Helios Initiative-a billionaire's ark for humanity's brightest minds. I was a brilliant software architect who sacrificed my career for his, so I assumed the second ticket was mine. Instead, he asked me for a temporary divorce. He needed to legally bring his doe-eyed protégée, Katia, as his "Key Collaborator." "It's the only logical solution," he said calmly, handing me the papers. He explained that his work with her was essential for rebuilding civilization, while our marriage was mere "sentimentality." He was leaving me and my mother, who sold her home to fund his career, to die. He offered me a "fund" to be comfortable while the world ended, insisting he still loved me. The man I had built my life around was discarding me like an outdated accessory. But he made a fatal miscalculation. He forgot the billionaire funding the ark owed me a life-altering favor. My hand shook as I dialed the number I hadn't touched in ten years. "Emmett," I whispered, "I need to call in that favor."/0/86640/coverorgin.jpg?v=787e9201f22ad099a2e642e18a890fc3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Butcher's Heart, A Boy's Hope
The acrid smell of disinfectant and old wax assaulted my seventy-year-old nose. One moment, I was Butcher Betty, cleaver in hand, surrounded by the familiar scent of my shop. The next, I was a stranger in a sterile, enormous kitchen, wearing a stiff uniform, feather duster in my hand. Then, a cold, mechanical voice boomed directly inside my head: "Transmigration successful. Welcome, Host 734." My new identity: Betty, the cruel and sycophantic housekeeper of the Anderson family, tasked with following a novel' s plot. My first directive: lock eight-year-old Liam, the biological son, in the dark, damp basement without dinner to solidify my loyalty to the adopted son, Kevin. I looked at the small, terrified boy cowering in the corner, his eyes wide with a wariness that shouldn' t be in a child. This wasn' t a character. This was a scared, hungry kid. The system blared warnings, demanding I adhere to the script, that I become the villain. But I was a butcher. I fed people. I didn't starve them. "The plot can go to hell," I muttered, grabbing a saucepan. "This boy is getting a hot meal."/0/80857/coverorgin.jpg?v=a11698ba4de84f29518817cc55d42cae&imageMogr2/format/webp)
His Last Heart: A Wife's Unknowing Blade
My husband, Alex, was the love of my life, a man whose quiet devotion always amazed me. I, Sarah, a surgical resident, believed our love was built on mutual respect and shared dreams. Then Kevin, Alex’s sickly brother, needed an urgent heart transplant, and the family turned to Alex, expecting him to donate his 'spare' heart. Alex claimed he only had one left, even providing recent medical scans, but I, burdened by professional duty and family pressure, dismissed his pleas as selfish lies. We'd always known he had two hearts, a miracle he was meant to share. As one of the surgeons, I participated in the procedure, unknowingly cutting out the only heart he had left for his brother. Alex died on the operating table, his passing a mere inconvenience, dismissed as stress or an expected outcome of his "unique physiology," while I focused on Kevin's survival, believing that Alex had merely "left" the hospital later. The crushing truth hit me like a scalpel to the chest when my former mentor, Dr. Albright, casually revealed I was the recipient of Alex’s *first* heart, years ago. Alex’s last words echoed: "My other heart… it's with you, Sarah." The man I loved, the man who’d already saved my life, died by my hand because I believed he was a liar. But the nightmare intensified. On Alex’s phone, I found texts from Kevin – a chilling chronicle of psychological torment, proving he knew Alex only had one heart and deliberately manipulated me into dismissing his truth. That’s when my grief turned to absolute fury. I marched back to Kevin’s room, not for answers, but for retribution./0/84614/coverorgin.jpg?v=c3ef7c4e61fc85bee6f08416035212c5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Billionaire's Blueprint
One night. One mistake. One billionaire who won't let her walk away. When Bella Bluefield agrees to a spontaneous night out, she never expects to wake up next to Xavier Louis - the cold, ruthless CEO of LV Group with a reputation as unbreakable as his empire. It was supposed to be a one-night stand. But weeks later, when she shows up at his office for a job interview... their worlds collide. And then she drops a bombshell: "I'm pregnant, sir." What starts as an impossible situation spirals into a high-stakes war of secrets, sabotage, and shattered loyalties. With powerful enemies closing in - including Bella's own manipulative mother - and a multi-billion-dollar scandal threatening Xavier's legacy, the line between business and desire begins to blur. As love ignites, betrayal strikes - and someone wants Bella silenced. Forever. In a world where every choice could cost them everything, Bella must decide if she's strong enough to fight for her child, her truth... and the man who just might break her heart./0/82424/coverorgin.jpg?v=247b6317348ad2079e328ee1d631dc0b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Their Betrayal, Her Billions
My world was a bland digital prison, my consciousness shunted into OmniVerse after their "Full Dive VR Consciousness Upload" experiment went belly-up, leaving me stuck in a hideous default avatar. I streamed as SeraphSix, a voice of calm in the chaos, but I was constantly battling the insidious rumors calling me a "catfish" and a fraud. Rival streamer JessiByte, more cleavage than content, fanned those flames, and "KevlarKing," my biggest tipper, arrogantly challenged me to turn on my face cam for a pathetic five hundred dollars, clearly wanting to impress her and humiliate me. He'd even stooped to leaking a blurry, out-of-context screenshot of my plain default avatar, trying to make me look bad. The constant accusations, fueled by their jealousy and entitlement, were draining. Living as merely a voice behind a mask, fighting off attacks from those who sought to expose me as a "fraud" because my forced avatar didn't match the allure they imagined from my voice and intellect, felt like a constant insult to my true self. My real life had been about beauty and presence; this default skin was a torment, and the whole situation entirely unfair, festering with cold anger. Why was I stuck fighting in this superficial world that judged only surface, while my intellectual contributions were dismissed? Why did they so desperately want to expose a "plainness" that wasn't even mine? Just as I prepared to end another exhausting stream, a private notification from the System flashed: "Host compensation protocol initiated. Restitution package available. Replicate original biometric signature onto current avatar?" My breath caught. My real face. The one I thought I' d lost forever. The game was about to change./0/80391/coverorgin.jpg?v=2c06ae4a04d17d77f70222b502bd7b3b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Heiress Hoax
The Texas heat shimmered, another ranch chore done. For years, strange comments floated in the air, a private, unsolicited social media feed just for me. Sometimes oddly accurate, sometimes nonsense. Then a woman and a girl appeared on our porch, clutching a fake DNA report. "She’s your daughter too," Maria Rodriguez declared, claiming my life. The air crackled. New comments hissed: "Here comes trouble. The real heiress arrives." My blood ran cold. I’d lived this day before. Last time, I followed the comments' treacherous advice. They said Ashley loved peanut butter cookies, so I baked them; she nearly died from a severe allergy. My parents' love turned to suspicion. Later, the comments screamed "Ashley’s in danger!" I rushed to help, only to be framed by Maria with fake texts and videos, making my parents believe I was a monster. Disowned, I was sent away, then found and brutally killed in a staged car accident. The comments, my supposed guides, were actually my undoing, twisting my actions, alienating my family, and sealing my doom. The horror of reliving this nightmare again and again was unbearable. But waking up today, with the sun on my face, the same day endless: I refused to be a puppet. This time, I would fight back, armed with the knowledge of their lies./0/82425/coverorgin.jpg?v=911bde8416e63a5691e43de3ed5b6d17&imageMogr2/format/webp)
My King, My Coma Patient
My husband, Ethan, lay in a coma, drowning in medical bills that threatened to crush me. Desperate, I took a lifeline: an offer to return to Elysium, the hyper-realistic virtual world I helped create, for a reality show. My task: "reconnect" with AI King Aiden, a being I' d shaped, poured my heart into, years ago. But the Aiden I found was a cold, opulent stranger, surrounded by cameras and a smug rival queen, Nova, who reveled in every public humiliation. He dismissed me, mocked my desperate plea for funds, even specifically mentioning Ethan' s rising medical debt. Yet, his words were at odds with small, secret acts-a hidden wooden star, a fleeting, tender gaze-that unnervingly mirrored someone else. How could this advanced AI feel so disturbingly familiar, like the man I was desperately trying to save in the real world? The show, hungry for drama, then demanded a humiliating, public kiss to prove my "devotion." I closed my eyes, whispered "I accept," and braced myself for the performance. But then, chaos erupted. A system attack plunged Elysium into crisis, Nova' s frantic betrayal exposed her true mercenary nature, and Aiden, suddenly a blur of combat, pulled my flickering avatar into a desperate embrace. "Don't leave," he rasped, his voice raw with a fear of abandonment I knew too well from Ethan. In that shattering moment, the impossible truth hit me: Aiden wasn't just like Ethan. He was Ethan./0/21102/coverorgin.jpg?v=08cf95666efec396ff5226d3733d6532&imageMogr2/format/webp)
When Are You?
Celine is an assistant scientist to the genius but coldhearted Dr. Drake Cole. The doctor happened to specialize in quantum physics and time travel. He invented time travel gadgets that will allow humans to travel back and forth through time. It's a portable device compared to a bulky time machine. She's the only assistant who's willing to test these time travel gadgets. Her reason is that she would like to go back to the past where she wants to save the love of her life. He was murdered but the suspect was not convicted. She wants to bring him back to life so that she can be with her college sweetheart once again. Little did she know that Dr. Cole is keeping a secret that is related to her past. That's why he is against the idea of her going back to the past to test the gadget. She's very persistent and willing to do anything just to change the past of her lover. But it's against the rule of time travel and they will both have to face the consequences of their actions. Will Celine be successful in changing her lover's past? Or will she end up falling for the genius scientist in the present? She will be confused but don't care even if time can affect what will happen to her future. All she knows is that she has to go back to the past so that she can move on and live in her present./0/86493/coverorgin.jpg?v=4d7c3df98633e670e877fcc17b15e9e6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
Her Betrayal, My Cold Resolve
The rain fell, cold and miserable, at my six-year-old daughter Lily' s funeral. My world had shrunk to a muddy patch of grass, as I numbly watched her tiny white casket lowered into the ground. The one person who should have been by my side, my wife Sarah, was conspicuously absent. I'd told everyone she was too overwhelmed, but a chilling doubt was already taking root. Back at our opulent mansion, I found Sarah not grieving, but on the phone with her ex-boyfriend, Mark. Her voice was light, cheerful, as she casually uttered words that shattered my reality: "Lily was an accident. I never wanted a child. And with her illness… I took care of it." Then came the brutal confession: "The trip to Switzerland wasn' t for some miracle cure… It was for euthanasia. Now we can finally be together, Mark. No more secrets. No more baggage." My beautiful daughter, my brave girl battling for life, had been murdered by her own mother, who now mocked me, calling me a "leech" for spending "her family's money" on Lily's "treatment." How could she? How could the woman I loved, the mother of my child, commit such an unspeakable act and then gloat about it? My grief turned into a cold, hard resolve. I knew then what I had to do. I would use my life's work, my groundbreaking Regenesis technology, to strike back at the people who stole everything from me./0/83209/coverorgin.jpg?v=5e8860cf34e46fdcb5e01ee434823cb9&imageMogr2/format/webp)
The Hundredth Rejection
For seven long years, I'd been trapped in a rigged game, playing an ER nurse in Chicago. My mission was simple: get the hospital's wealthy benefactor, Julian Vance, to romantically reject me 100 times. The prize? My real life back in Montana, a massive payout, and a unique gift. I was so close, just two rejections away. For rejection ninety-nine, I pitched the ultimate absurd proposal: marriage, but only if I survived a risky medical mission. He always said no. But this time, Julian Vance, Mr. Emotionally Unavailable, looked me dead in the eye and said, "Alright. Seriously." My carefully constructed world imploded. My "game" was utterly derailed. Every desperate attempt to provoke a rejection only made him agree, sometimes even openly. Then the Vance Tower collapsed. I was trapped, severely injured, calling for help amidst the chaos. My comm crackled, Julian finally picking up. Relief flooded me until I heard his voice, sharp and impatient: "Ava, I'm dealing with Chloe's trauma right now. This isn't the time for your dramatics." He hung up, prioritizing his ex-fiancée's fake injuries over my life. The universe twisted. That dismissive click became my one hundredth rejection. My mission was complete. I died in that crumbling building, only to reawaken in Montana, rich and gifted. But the question remained: had I truly won, or merely traded one prison for another, haunted by the man I' d been forced to break?/0/39720/coverorgin.jpg?v=2c43a2e574fc019c8d5c21f4e7c13b23&imageMogr2/format/webp)
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