Shattered Sword Novels & Stories

The question lingered in my mind: where did he even find the resources to throw such extravagant gatherings? Heading to the kitchen, I poured myself a glass of water, mustering the courage to confront Edward. Returning to the room, I hurled the water at him, breaking the glass as it shattered on the floor. "What the hell!" he exclaimed, his gaze locking onto me. "Are you sober now?" I demanded, discarding the glass with a resonating crash. The women looked at me in shock, their expressions betraying a mix of fear and disbelief. Perhaps I was on the brink of insanity dealing with this fool.

Liam stood nearby, silent, unreadable. "Come," Ella said softly, guiding me to the couch. "I'm sorry. Was I shouting too much?" I tried to smile, to ease her guilt. But it came out twisted, hollow. "It wasn't your shouting," I said, my voice weak. "It was the glass. When it shattered, it... brought something back." "Oh, dear." Her hand closed gently over mine, trying to steady the tremble. "Here," Liam said quietly, offering me a glass of water. I stared at him for a moment, surprised. Then I took it. The cold water slid down my throat and seemed to calm the storm in me, at least for now.

"You hate me that much? In our last life, we were married. And now, even getting near you scares you?" He gave a bitter smile and smashed the vial on the floor. "Don't worry. I've done enough wrong. I won't hurt you again. I just came to see you and talk to you." Lillian lowered the speaker, but her voice remained cold. "There's nothing to say." Elton opened his mouth, but a voice crackled through the studio's speakers. Tanya yelled, "Useless! I knew you'd fail. Fine! If you don't hurt her, you can both die!"

"She is your sister. Your weakness. And until you learn that I am all you have, I will keep taking pieces of your world away." The knife descended. And I finally understood: Richard was not trying to break me. He already had.

Chapter 97 – The Book She Wrote The house was quiet again, but this time it was the kind of quiet that hummed with purpose. The kind of quiet that filled the room with possibilities rather than emptiness. I sat at my desk, pen in hand, notebook open, staring at the blank page for a long time before writing the first words. “Shattered Vows,” I whispered to myself. The title alone made my chest tighten, a reminder of everything I had lived through—the love, the lies, the heartbreak, the forgiveness, and the slow, painstaking rebuilding of myself.

And now I am standing in the wreckage of that loyalty, watching her try to rewrite it. She steps forward, her eyes wide, her mouth trembling. “Fiona, you have it all wrong. It’s not what you think~” I laugh. It’s a brittle, hollow sound that feels like glass cracking in my throat. “Why do people always say that? Every damn fucking time. First Edward, now you. You always say it’s not what I think, when it’s exactly what I think. It’s exactly what it looks like. You hurt me. You hurt our friend group. You shattered something that mattered.”

His shadow gave away his next attack and I was able to swerve myself before his shoe came down on me again. Almost there. My hand caught the head of the sword at the same moment he got hold of my ankle. The excess blood soaked through the material that was used to cover it. It fell out of my grip but I gathered it again in both hands fast enough. Somehow, during its fall, the clothing protecting the hilt had fallen off also and I was holding the weapon with bloodied bare hands. That made it more slippery but I would not let it go again. I held it with both hands.

Mirabel called her husband twice. I sat and watched the clock on the wall. When the surgeon finally walked out, I stood up before I even realized I had moved. He looked at all three of us and said it was a success. The impact had broken two ribs and fractured her left wrist, but she was stable. She would need rest and care for several weeks. Mirabel burst into tears. Francis put an arm around her shoulder. I stood a little apart from them, the way I had always stood, and breathed out the fear I had been holding the entire time.

"If you are her." Seraphina could not speak. Could not move. "Because if you are," he said. "Then I have spent three years grieving a woman I threw away for a lie. And I do not think I can survive finding out I was right." "Damien." The name slipped out before she could catch it. Not Mr. Cross. Damien. His face broke. "Open the door." Her hand was already moving. She watched it move as if from a very long distance. She slid the chain off. Stepped back.

Susan Jackson has always aspired to be a successful fashion designer. Unfortunately that dream was beginning to look impossible after numerous rejection from the number one fashion company in New York. Faced with the opportunity to compete with various students for the opportunity to finally become a designer in the Beautyspy fashion company. Susan will do anything to make sure her dreams come true, even if it means working closely with her old crush Joseph Crown, CEO of Beautyspy fashion company and her despicable step sister Amelia Friday.