Second Book To Shatter Me Novels & Stories

The memory was a shard of glass in my heart. “What we had?” The words were quiet, but they cut deeper than a shout. “You mean the years you let me believe I was broken, while you knew the truth? The art you stole from me? The child you murdered? That’s not a marriage, Vincent. That’s a damnation.” "It was a misunderstanding! It was all Sophia’s plan!" Vincent sobbed, tears and blood mixing on his face. "I already made her pay! I made her life a living hell!"

The vision tore itself from me like shattered glass, leaving my body trembling as though I had walked through fire and come out half-burned. The chamber blurred before my eyes, and only the sound of Damian’s voice anchored me, ragged and desperate as he caught me before I could collapse. His scent wrapped around me, grounding and dangerous all at once, but the shard was still there, pulsing inside my chest like a living wound. Its hunger whispered, clawing at the edges of my soul, but this time it wasn’t only my blood it reached for.

How jinxed could I possibly be. I reach underneath me and take off the heels and throw it to the corner, my legs feel like Jell-O. I stagger to my front and pick up a sandal. I sit on a chair by a makeup table and begin to remove the makeup off my face with a wipe. The girl staring back at me in the mirror looks so beaten and emotionally broken, I feel like a shadow of myself. When will it stop, when would all the misery end. I wish I could go back a month, when my life was still good, when I had not heard about the death of my brother or when I had not met Thelma.

This might prove easier than he’d thought. His first task was to get that book of Nick’s so that Alison couldn’t discover alternative methods for getting her vibration ready to shift into shadow land. Since she’d already been without Nick for a week, she should be feeling the lowering of her body’s vibration level and be eager to do something to keep it up. From the electricity he felt between them when they first met, he was certain it wouldn’t take long to get her into his bed, once he’d gained her trust; if for no other reason than the fact that she didn’t want to regress when she was so close to being ready.

"Why I remember it?" "One trauma can bring back another trauma back." I hate her. I want to kill her again," I spat. "Two people I love the most in my life broke me in pieces." Two weeks and still he hadn't called me once. At least call and see how was I doing. At least call and see if your bookworm was fine or dead. "I hate both of them." "Kabir did it for you."

I made sure they paid—in the cruelest, most humiliating way possible. I tore my father’s company apart, crushed his legacy, and gathered allies who wanted him ruined just as much as I did. And just when I thought I had nothing left to lose, I found my fiancée in bed with my half-brother, Gregory. Chanel had been the last illusion I had about love. And when that illusion shattered, I stopped believing in anything. I swore off women. I lived recklessly, throwing myself into work, into power, into winning.

Chapter 25: Don’t Talk To Me Again My heart felt like it had been shattered into tiny bits of glass. All of them fell down on the floor like a big bucket, almost making my ears deaf and hurt by the crashing sound it made as I watched the two people in front of me, like a lovey-dovey couple.

I continue to smash and destroy everything within reach, each crash and clatter echoing the turmoil in my mind. A framed picture of Graham and me, once a symbol of our partnership, now feels like a mockery. I grab it and throw it with all my might, watching as it shatters into fragments. The glass cuts my hand, but I barely feel it through the haze of rage and despair. The bookshelf is next. I yank books from the shelves, flinging them across the room. The titles blur together as they hit the walls and floor with dull thuds. The room, once a place of order and control, is now a chaotic mess, mirroring the ruin of my life.

My legs carried me before my mind could catch up, storming out of the room, and down the halls until I reached the library. The moment the door shut, I broke. Rage, shame, heat! Everything tangled until I wanted to tear my skin off. I couldn't breathe. Everything was too neat, and carefully arranged. The order of it mocked the chaos burning inside me. I grabbed the nearest book, one of his timeless journals, and shoved it to the ground. The sound made me flinch, but it loosened something in me. If I couldn’t hurt him, I could damn well destroy what he cared about.

I look at my shaking hand and i try to stop it from shaking like this but alas, he messed me up, he ruined me and nothing will change that. I curl it into a fist, my nails digging into my palm, so hard that it pains but i don't stop. "I am okay, everything is okay." I whisper to myself, again and again to keep myself from breaking down, "It'll be okay." I say. But deep down, i know it won't. I close my eyes when i hear a loud glass shuttering sound from behind me, it was followed by loud thud of slamming a door shut. I open the bathroom's door and take a look inside the room and like i thought the mirror is now on the floor, he shattered it into pieces, just like he did to me.