Who Wrote Shatter Me Novels & Stories

I would pack Luna’s things and mine, leave this city, run my business remotely, and leave the house that still smelled like Mark, leave the woman who had quietly taken my place in my daughter’s stories and my damn husband’s bed. I will go for a clean break. A new start somewhere the neighbors didn’t know my shame. And right now, just one reckless night with the man who looked at me like I was worth ruining for… it didn’t feel like betrayal anymore. It felt like survival. I lifted my chin, met his gaze, and let another tear fall on purpose. “Yes,” I whispered. “It is.” The words barely left my mouth before I moved. I grabbed the back of his neck with both hands and pulled him down hard. My mo

The sun was warm as its rays filtered through the windows. I tore up the DNA test report. Finally, all the love and hatred in the past could be sealed away in these torn-up fragments now scattered across the floor.

The Price of Defiance I made it to my bedroom before my legs gave out. My hands shook as I locked the door, pressing my back against the wood. The bravado drained from my body like water through a sieve, leaving behind the trembling, terrified girl I actually was. What had I done? Downstairs, voices erupted—my father's rage, my mother's tears, Victoria Ashford's cutting accusations. And beneath it all, Richard's voice, calm and controlled, like a predator deciding whether to pounce now or wait.

That heat wasn’t just shame. It was me. And fuck, I can’t wait to drag every sound out of her throat, to fill her so deep she forgets her own name…until she’s trembling, shattered, and breaking apart under me where she belongs.

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.”

, and "Thanks for everything you've given me" All of that was mine once. "Lisette, you lived on my dime and stole my friends. What's next? Are you going to take my parents, too?" I snapped. I'd just gotten out of the hospital, and my body couldn't handle the stress. A sharp pain pierced my heart again, and I collapsed, clutching my chest. "Cecilia!" Edgar's eyes widened in shock. "Cecilia!" Silas rushed toward me.

My voice cracked into yells, screams, curses I didn’t even know I had in me. He didn’t stop. He didn’t soften. He drove me harder, like he wanted to brand me into this glass, like he wanted me to never forget how he looked when I shattered under him. And I let him. I gave him everything. My voice. My tears. My shame. My need. I was undone, shameless, shaking and pleading for more even when my body was splintering apart. When I broke, it was catastrophic. I screamed, clawed, sobbed, my body collapsing against him even as he kept going, wringing me dry. He held me there… against the mirror, against myself… until I was nothing but fragments in his hands.

I didn’t faint. I shattered.