Best Modern Novels

The best way to get back at a cheating bastard? Make him sick to his stomach for the rest of his life! Days before her wedding, Corinne caught her fiancé cheating with his coworker in what she thought was their future home. Furious, she tore everything apart, ended the engagement, and decided on a bold revenge plan. To make him regret it for life, she set her sights on marrying his powerful uncle. Confident in her scheme, she tried to win over the cold, untouchable man, only to realize too late that she had mistaken his identity. The man she married was far more dangerous than she imagined! Corinne decided to make a quick escape. "Let's get a divorce. We're clearly not right for each other... " He cornered her with a knowing smile, "Not right for each other? Funny, that's not what you said last night in bed. Want me to remind you how wrong you are?"

Vera thought her life was over the moment she caught her fiancee cheating with his ex. Broken and filled with pain, she is approached by a billionaire who presents a simple contract to her. Let's get married. Sylas Gold is the man admired by the entire world. He is untouchable, powerful and incredibly controlled. Their marriage was supposed to be a contract. A performance. It was a way for both of them to win. When Vera is kidnapped by a man who looks at her like she's already his, she learns the truth Sylas never told her, about his mafia empire, the blood, and the brother who was supposed to be gone. Cassian Gold is the man who wants everything his brother has, including Vera. Now caught between two brothers bound by hatred, power, and obsession, Vera must decide who to trust in a world where love is dangerous, loyalty is fragile, and desire might just be her downfall.

I bought an antique four-poster bed at Sotheby's, said to be the final resting place of a long-dead European king. A week later, I woke up to the thick smell of blood, only to find a massive, heavily wounded man in my bed holding a forged steel sword to my throat. He was dressed in ruined velvet and gold, bleeding out from a massive abdominal gash. When I tried to save him with modern medicine, he called it sorcery and nearly choked me to death. He destroyed my expensive appliances, treating my home like a witch's lair. I thought he was a lunatic cosplayer who broke in, until he tossed me a massive ruby ring as a down payment for my help. I looked it up online. It was the lost coronation ring of King Cain the Cruel, valued at thirty million dollars. I was terrified of this savage who could snap my neck in an instant. I couldn't comprehend how a tyrant who had been dead for 135 years was breathing in my attic, until he lay back down on the antique mattress and literally vanished into thin air before my eyes. The bed was a time portal. The police would lock him in a psych ward and confiscate the priceless artifact, leaving me with nothing but bloodstained sheets and trauma. "I can give you more wealth than you can imagine." So, when he reappeared and offered me the lost Fabergé eggs of his fallen empire in exchange for modern shelter, I didn't call 911. I took his hand and became the 21st-century gatekeeper for a time-traveling king.

I endured years of humiliation and forced sedatives from my billionaire husband's family, hoping my quiet obedience would eventually win his heart. When I finally discovered I was pregnant, I thought the child would be our anchor. But when I rushed to his office to tell him, I found his untouchable first love sitting in his chair, rubbing her own swollen belly. She smiled and whispered that she was the one who orchestrated the car crash that left my adoptive mother in a vegetative state. When I lunged at her in a blind rage, my husband shielded her and shoved me backward with brutal force. My spine slammed against a marble table, and blood pooled at my feet. "Kingston, please! I'm pregnant too!" I sobbed, clutching my stomach. He just looked down at me with profound disgust. "I had a vasectomy five years ago," he hissed, condemning me as a cheating whore before ordering his men to lock me up and forcibly abort the child. I had never touched another man. I couldn't understand how the man I loved could order the murder of his own flesh and blood without a second thought. To save myself, I stole his prized Aston Martin and drove it off a bridge into the freezing Atlantic, letting his pathetic, obedient wife drown in the wreckage. Five years later, I returned to New York as a powerful European executive, ready to burn his empire to the ground.

Elliana and her six-year-old daughter Clara were trapped in a horrific, bloody car crash. A private medical helicopter bearing her husband's family crest touched down on the wet asphalt, but the paramedics ran straight past her crushed SUV. They rushed to the sleek sports car that had rear-ended them. Sitting inside were her husband Devontae's mistress and her daughter, suffering from nothing more than a minor scratch and a panic attack. Trapped under twisted metal, Elliana dialed her husband's number with bloody fingers, begging him to save their dying child. "Stop being so dramatic, Elliana," Devontae snapped impatiently over the phone. "I am sick of you using Clara to play the victim. Kyle needs to get to the hospital immediately." He hung up, and the helicopter lifted off into the night sky, leaving Elliana and Clara in the absolute dark. Elliana watched her daughter's tiny hand drop lifelessly. In absolute despair and suffocating hatred, she dropped a lighter into the pooled gasoline, letting a wall of fire consume them both. As the flames blistered her skin, she felt a profound, agonizing injustice. She had hidden her brilliant talents and played the submissive, perfect wife just to protect his fragile ego, but her endless sacrifices had only bought them a fiery grave. Why did her devotion end with her child bleeding to death in the cold rain while the mistress flew away to safety? Opening her eyes, Elliana violently gasped for air in her massive velvet bed. She stared at the glowing date on her phone screen. It was exactly six months before the crash. The phantom pain in her crushed legs reminded her of the hell she had just crawled back from. She got out of bed, her eyes as cold and sharp as broken glass. This time, she would send them all to hell first.

Evelina Barrett was the legitimate daughter, yet she was framed for a disgusting sex scandal, expelled from the Ivy League, and locked out of her late mother's massive trust fund. While she was thrown out to rot on the streets with a jagged, hideous red scar covering half her face, her father and step-family were throwing a lavish charity gala to celebrate her total ruin. They laughed as they officially published her disownment notice in the Times to cut her off forever. "Without the school halo, that ugly freak will be begging on the streets by tomorrow," her sister Aspen sneered. Her stepmother Annabella toasted to taking out the trash, perfectly happy to steal Evelina's inheritance while ignoring the fact that Evelina knew exactly how they had murdered her mother. For years, Evelina had been locked in a dark basement, abused by bodyguards, and treated worse than a stray dog. Why should she, the true heir, suffer in the gutter while the leeches who destroyed her life enjoyed the wealth that rightfully belonged to her? She refused to be their victim anymore. Washing away her fake scar to reveal her true, breathtaking face, Evelina blackmailed New York's most lethal billionaire into marriage to secure the ultimate shield. Then, she put on a black mourning dress, ordered a dark web ghost crew, and climbed into a heavy semi-truck. At exactly 6:00 PM, she smashed through the iron gates of her family's elegant gala, delivering three pure black coffins directly to the lawn.

I opened my eyes to a tearing pain and an unfamiliar ceiling, lying next to the most powerful man in the capital. Foreign memories crashed into my mind. I had transmigrated into the body of Irena Frost, a woman who had just drugged and trapped the cold, ruthless heir Evertt Barton into a scandalous marriage. The original owner did it to escape being sold to a murderous old merchant by her own cruel father. But Evertt didn't know that. When he woke up, his eyes were full of absolute disgust. He threw a prenuptial agreement at my face, demanding a quiet divorce in two years and warning me not to use a pregnancy to blackmail his family. Everyone in the estate treated me like a greedy, pathetic joke, just waiting for the day I would be thrown out onto the streets. The original Irena had died in despair, terrified and hated by the man she chose as her only shield. I felt a deep ache for the girl who had to ruin her own reputation just to survive. I absolutely refused to let this second chance be dictated by a man who despised me. I looked right into Evertt's icy eyes and demanded an astronomical divorce settlement to play his perfect wife. "Deal. I consider it a job." With millions wired to my account and a magical spatial ring from my past life suddenly awakening on my finger, I stopped crying. I was going to use his money to build a massive commercial empire in secret, and when the two years were up, I would leave without looking back.

Three years of marriage were all Olivia needed to learn that love alone could not hold Theo. She gave him everything, only to find another woman's photo in his phone after a night of passion. When she confronted him, he coldly told her Jennifer was disabled and could never compete with her. That answer ended the marriage. After the divorce, Olivia rose like a storm-becoming a dazzling musician, the world's leading accordionist, and a woman whose talents amazed everyone. Too late, Theo saw her worth and begged with reddened eyes, "Babe, please come back to me, will you?"

When Claire agrees to play her cold-hearted boss's girlfriend for a weekend, she never expects a fake romance to turn into a nine-month marriage contract worth millions. She becomes trapped in the world of the ultra wealthy and her abusive ex resurfaces to blackmail her with millions. She also falls in love with her cold-hearted boss, leading to an affair that gets her pregnant. But the reason for the contract marriage is no longer necessary. What happens now that Claire has no reason to stay married to her cold boss?

Calista was the despised wife of billionaire Jett Holder, humiliated daily for not producing an heir. Even her biological parents treated her like garbage, giving all their love to their adopted daughter, Kassandra. At a high-society gala, Kassandra maliciously framed Calista by slapping her own face in the restroom. Without asking a single question, Calista's biological father shoved her into a marble wall, cracking her skull open. Bleeding and unconscious, she was saved by a passing surgeon. But when Jett saw another man holding her, he didn't care about her severe head trauma. He violently dragged her away, tearing her fresh stitches. He threw a check at her blood-stained face. "Go beg Kassandra for forgiveness. If she doesn't forgive you by sunrise, you're getting divorce papers." Calista stared at the man she had slept next to for three years, her heart finally shattering into dust. She didn't understand why her own family would rather see her dead, or why her husband blindly protected a venomous liar while treating her like a disease. Sitting in the hospital bed, her best friend handed her a sleek black card for Manhattan's top divorce attorney. A powerful surgeon had also offered her the resources to completely disappear. Looking at the torn check on the floor, the freezing numbness in her chest turned into a spark of rebellion. She wasn't going back to that house; she was going to make all of them pay.

Kaia was diagnosed with late-stage bone cancer, with only three months left to live. She wanted to give up her family's entire trust fund just to have Gerrit play the role of a loving husband for her final days. But before she could show him the biopsy report, he looked at her with absolute disgust, declaring that their three-year marriage made him physically sick. He only loved Seraphina. To force Kaia out, Seraphina constantly framed her. When Seraphina faked a fall, Gerrit pushed Kaia so hard she tore her waist open on a glass table. When Kaia writhed in agonizing pain from her failing organs, he stood over her coldly, mocking her pathetic acting. Even when Gerrit finally discovered Seraphina had hired a fake stalker and maliciously burned Kaia's skin with boiling tea, he still chose to protect his mistress. "I already signed the divorce papers with Kaia. We are going to bury this story temporarily to protect the company." Hearing those words from behind the wall, the last shred of hope in Kaia's chest completely died. She had endured his cruelty for three years, only to realize his bias for another woman defied all logic and morality. Lying in the bathtub, coughing up mouthfuls of dark blood that turned the water crimson, Kaia picked up her phone and dialed her lawyer. "Julian, initiate the final plan." Since Gerrit despised her existence, she would make sure he never found her body.

For nine years, Arianna was the loyal girlfriend and lead engineer who built Gregory's tech company from the ground up. But coming home early from a business trip, she overheard him laughing with his friends about how he would never marry her. "Arianna is useful. She's convenient for my physical needs. That's all it is." He was just using her while waiting for his untouchable stepsister to get a divorce. The betrayal didn't stop there. Days later, she caught him buying Cartier diamonds for a twenty-two-year-old intern. When she secretly checked his phone that night, the truth was even uglier. Gregory wasn't just cheating; he was plotting corporate sabotage. He planned to steal the proprietary code she had poured her life into, kick her out of the company without a dime, and hand her executive title to his mistress. Nine years of blind devotion and endless sacrifices were nothing but a cruel, calculated joke. She had excused his emotional distance for years, never realizing he was intentionally draining her dry while keeping his soul loyal to another woman. But instead of breaking down, the weak, devoted Arianna died in the dark. She quietly locked her core engine code in a biometric safe, hired an elite private investigator, and put on her sharpest suit. It was time to burn his empire to the ground.

For three years, I endured being treated like a walking ATM and a maid by my husband's family, biting my tongue to keep the peace. Then, my husband's buddy suddenly dropped off a nine-year-old boy at my front door. The crumpled note from my husband casually explained it was his illegitimate son, blaming me for being barren and demanding I raise the kid as our own. My mother-in-law was absolutely thrilled, parading the boy around as the true heir at the dinner table. "Some trees just don't bear fruit, no matter how much water you give them," she sneered. My brother-in-law cheered, and my drunk father-in-law demanded I cook a feast to celebrate. They actually expected me to continue paying the mortgage, buying the groceries, and cleaning up their endless messes, all while raising the living proof of my husband's betrayal. I looked at the parasites who had drained me dry for years, acting like they were doing me a favor by letting me stay in a house that my money paid for. I didn't scream, and I didn't cry. I simply called my lawyer to file for an immediate divorce, froze every single bank account and credit card they relied on, and drove off to my grandmother's secluded cabin in the woods. Let them see how long they survive without my money.

She saved a dying boy and forgot his face. He survived and memorized hers. For a decade, Rob Stark was a shadow. He was the anonymous donor at her mother's funeral. He was the silent investor who saved her career. He was the reason every man she ever dated disappeared without a trace. Chloe Bishop thought it was fate. But fate doesn't break into your house and leave a marriage license on your pillow. "You tried to escape me three times, Chloe. There won't be a fourth." The man she saved didn't grow up to be a hero. He grew up to be her captor.

For eighteen years, Arielle was raised in a cramped trailer park, treated as nothing more than a walking blood bag to keep her sick sister, Kimora, breathing. But today, her adoptive family hurled her belongings into a muddy pothole and kicked her out into the freezing rain. "Get the hell out, you ungrateful parasite! You'll rot in the gutter!" Kimora’s wealthy biological mother threw a check at her chest, warning her to stay away, while Kimora stepped out of a Porsche to mock her in the mud, flaunting her upcoming violin solo at Lincoln Center. They didn't care that Arielle was the one locked in a basement, forced to write that very violin piece until her fingers bled. They had drained eight hundred milliliters of her blood every month to keep up the illusion of Kimora's health, and now that they were done using her, they threw her away like garbage. Did they really think she was just a fragile, broken country girl who would starve without them? They had no idea she was a top-tier hacker who had just frozen a third of their offshore assets with a single keystroke. As a massive, armored Maybach pulled up to take her back to her true bloodline—the ultra-wealthy Chandler empire—and her terrifyingly powerful billionaire fiancé, Arielle wiped the mud from her face. Manhattan was waiting, and she was going to burn their world to the ground.

For three years, I played the perfect, uneducated housewife to my billionaire husband, Bradley. Then I received a photo of him sleeping in our custom bed, a woman's hand resting intimately on his bare chest. It was my half-sister. When I confronted him, he didn't apologize. He defended her, saying she was just scared of thunderstorms. "You are her sister. Why is your mind so dirty?" I handed him signed divorce papers, leaving with absolutely nothing. He sneered, pointing at the door. "A woman who didn't even finish high school? You will be begging on the streets in a week!" Later, he violently dragged me away from a friend's house, only to kick me out of his car on a freezing, pitch-black mountain road just because my half-sister called crying about a power outage. Standing alone in the dark with bleeding heels, the last ounce of warmth in my heart turned to solid ice. He truly thought I was a helpless nobody who would eventually crawl back to him in tears. He had no idea who he had really married. The next morning, I put on a tailored power suit, walked into the towering headquarters of MY Corporation, and took the Chairman's seat. It was time for him to meet Anna, the mysterious business tycoon he was about to go to war with.

Liora Jovan's life shatters the moment she catches her boyfriend cheating, her Valentine proposal ruined. In a reckless act of humiliation and fury, she proposes to a stranger in the lobby... who turns out to be Everett Montague, her ex's billionaire boss. Amused and dangerously charming, Everett offers a fake three-month engagement to serve his own needs-and her revenge. The rules are clear: no real feelings, separate lives, public affection only. When fake turns into something intoxicatingly real, a buried secret threatens to tear them apart.

Fiona prepared a candlelit anniversary dinner, scallops glistening on porcelain, champagne chilling beside a "Three Years" card—her secret pregnancy swelling beneath her silk dress. The doorbell rang, but it was just a delivery. Then Emmanuel called: his ex, Carley Marshall, crashed her car. He blew off their night. Cramps hit like a vise. She collapsed, blood soaking her gown, screaming into the phone: "I'm losing the baby!" Emmanuel scoffed, "Fake ploy for attention," and hung up—Carley's voice cooed in the background. Paramedics rushed her to ER for emergency D&C. The baby was gone. Audrey saved her life. Emmanuel sent lilies with a card: "Stop dramatizing." She signed divorce papers. He laughed it off, contested everything, froze her out of hotels and clubs. Dragged her from the St. Regis by force, dumped her sobbing on a rainy sidewalk with her suitcase in puddles—Gus drove off without looking back. He thought she was manipulating him, playing jealous games for attention. But she'd truly carried his child, bled out alone while he comforted Carley. How could he not believe her, even after the hospital proof? Why twist her agony into lies? Now blacklisted and broke, Fiona clutched her grandfather's antique restoration tools. No more begging—she'd expose his cruelty, rebuild from the ashes, and make him regret ever underestimating her.

After fifteen years of marriage and a brutal battle with infertility, I finally saw two pink lines on a pregnancy test. This baby was my victory, the heir that would finally secure my place as the wife of mob capo Marco Vitiello. I planned to announce it at his mother's party, a triumph over the matriarch who saw me as nothing but a barren field. But before I could celebrate, my friend sent me a video. The headline read: "MOB CAPO MARCO VITIELLO'S PASSIONATE NIGHTCLUB KISS!" It was him, my husband, devouring a woman who looked like a younger, fresher version of me. Hours later, Marco stumbled home, drunk and reeking of another woman's perfume. He complained about his mother begging him for an heir, completely unaware of the secret I held. Then my phone lit up with a text from an unknown number. "Your husband slept with my girl. We need to talk." It was signed by Dante Moretti, the ruthless Don of our rival family. The meeting with Dante was a nightmare. He showed me another video. This time, I heard my husband's voice, telling the other woman, "I love you. Elara... that's just business." My fifteen years of loyalty, of building his empire, of taking a bullet for him-all dismissed as "just business." Dante didn't just reveal the affair; he showed me proof that Marco was already stealing our shared assets to build a new life with his mistress. Then, he made me an offer. "Divorce him," he said, his eyes cold and calculating. "Join me. We'll build an empire together and destroy him."

Emilia desperately needed ten thousand dollars to save her dying father from being thrown out of the hospital. Driven into a corner, she agreed to a black-market egg retrieval "interview" at a luxury hotel. But the buyer, a cold and ruthless billionaire, didn't just take her innocence. He threw a crumpled one-hundred-dollar check at her naked body. "That is your actual market value. Not a penny more." The nightmare escalated when cheap black-market hormone pills nearly killed her. Waking up in the ER, she was horrified to find her buyer was actually Clifton Watson, the hospital's top surgeon. To teach her a twisted lesson, he wired her a massive hundred-thousand-dollar loan, trapping her in a suffocating debt. When she demanded to treat it strictly as a loan and blocked his number, he retaliated ruthlessly. He leaked her confidential medical records to her university, letting the entire campus know she tried to sell her eggs. Cornered in a dark alley by frat boys waving cash and demanding to buy her body, Emilia felt a freezing terror and absolute violation. She didn't understand why a billionaire doctor, a man who had already used and humiliated her, would go out of his way to completely destroy a desperate college student's dignity. Kneeing her attacker to the ground, Emilia escaped the alley and made a silent vow. She would work until her fingers bled to pay off every single cent, and never let this monster control her life again.

Blurb; "I don't love you and I will never love you, Isabelle Yang!" I froze as the hatred in his eyes held me captive. I knew he wasn't happy with this arrangement. Neither was I. "But I am your wife, Emerson." "Wife?" He scoffed, stepping closer until my back hit the wall and I was trapped between his arms. "You mean wife... or just the woman chosen to carry my heir?" His words were the truth. That was the only reason I was here. Still, they hurt more than I expected. "You hurt my girlfriend by coming into our lives," he continued coldly. "And I plan to make you feel twice the pain you caused her." Then he did something worse than yelling-he sanitized his hands after touching me, as if I disgusted him. He walked away, leaving me heartbroken and shaking, wondering what I had done to deserve so much hatred. ... Isabelle Yang never imagined that her life could spiral into more darkness after catching her boyfriend and twin sister in bed on the night meant to celebrate their two-year anniversary. Before she could even recover, a call from home changed everything. Her marriage had been arranged with the Winters-one of the most powerful families in Europe. And her husband? Emerson Winters, the ruthless heir who cared about only two things... himself and his childhood sweetheart, Salma Hayden. But what happens when his love isn't enough to bear an heir, and he is forced into a marriage with Isabelle-a woman he sees as a mistake, a burden, an obligation? What will become of two hearts trapped in a marriage where hatred and resentment rule the day? Read this book to find out; The Billionaire's Unwanted Wife A novel by Queenebunoluwa15

I woke up strapped to a freezing operating table, a gaping hole crudely sutured over my heart. Joi Rocha, my supposed guardian, stood nearby holding a glowing vial that contained my freshly extracted Phoenix gene sequence. "Don't blame me, sweetheart. Gayla's body is just too weak. She needs this sequence more than you do." In my past life, I endured years of illegal biological harvests for this family. My fiancé Brennon watched with cold eyes as they ripped the gene from my chest, while the elite academy students filmed and mocked my bleeding, broken body. They stripped me of my status, drained every drop of my worth, and left me to die in a freezing tomb just so their precious fake daughter could thrive. Until my dying breath, I didn't understand. I had given them my absolute loyalty, so why was I treated like disposable medical waste? Why did my life mean absolutely nothing to them? But opening my eyes again, I realized I had returned to the exact day they stole my core. This time, I didn't cry or beg. I stared dead into Joi's eyes and smiled. I detonated the residual energy in my chest to incinerate Gayla's stolen sequence, faked my own flatline, and injected myself with a hidden dark matter drive to completely rewrite my DNA. If they wanted to play God with my life, I was going to burn their entire world to ash.

It was her hair that fascinated him. The reddish-brown mass was parted high to one side, windswept almost. And then there was her make-up, neutral save for the liner around her eyes and the bold lip colour... was that purple? His gaze narrowed over it and she must have sensed his attention, her eyes flickering in his direction. "You know, it's rude to stare." Her voice was husky, a crisp edge that rasped along his spine and sealed her appeal. Derek was hooked. Her eyes were back on the doors, her lack of interest obvious. He should've taken it as a sign, but since when had he backed off from anything he fancied?

The night before her wedding to Wall Street billionaire Everette Baird, Deliah Quinn stood happily in her haute couture gown. Then, her younger sister Arvilla walked in, handed her a drugged glass of champagne, and slammed an ultrasound on the vanity. "I'm pregnant with Everette's child," Arvilla sneered. Before Deliah's paralyzed body could react, Arvilla dragged in a canister of industrial gasoline, soaked the bridal suite, tossed a lighter, and locked the heavy oak doors from the outside. To escape the roaring inferno, Deliah smashed the glass balcony and threw herself into the freezing, violent waters of the Atlantic Ocean. For five agonizing years, everyone believed the Quinn heiress was dead. Deliah returned to New York entirely reborn—a top architectural designer and a single mother, having scrubbed her past clean and forgotten the people who destroyed her. She only wanted a peaceful life with her five-year-old genius son, Leo. But she had no idea her son was secretly hacking airport security cameras to find himself a wealthy stepdad. Leo deliberately bumped into a terrifying, cold-blooded tycoon, spilling scalding coffee on his custom suit to get his attention. When Deliah frantically rushed over to protect her son and apologize, the air in the terminal vanished. Everette Baird stared at the exact face he had obsessively mourned for five years, his eyes turning pitch black as he crushed his phone in his bare hand.