Who Wrote Shatter Me Novels & Stories

But he doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know that every ounce of pain I’ve endured in my life has turned me into something sharp, something that bites back. He doesn’t know that I don’t just break, I shatter , and I take down whoever’s closest when I do. I feel the nausea curling tighter in my chest, but underneath it, something else bubbles: anger. No. Rage .

I sat with my back pressed to the other side of the door, knees pulled close to my chest, shaking. He said he loved me. I didn’t believe him. No, that wasn’t true. I believed he wanted to mean it. But words didn’t fix what was broken. They didn’t erase the venomous words Matteo spat. They didn’t erase the shame that burned inside me when I realized just how they saw me. A servant. A coward. A mistake. I didn’t cry that first night. I was too hollow. Too stunned. But the second night? I shattered.

The cop replied with a hint of mockery in his voice. The tubes in my arm trembled with the ferocity of my shaking. Anger and grief fought within me, both as sharp as the other. My voice lost. My face ruined. My freedom stolen from me. And the one man who should have been standing beside me had been the one who set me up. I lay there, restrained to the bed, the sound of his betrayal ringing clearer than any tune I ever composed. My world hadn't fallen apart. It had been burned to ashes. “Why Ethan? Why?”

“That’s right. Keep fighting. You know I don’t mind hurting you. You’re nothing but some dirty whore who can’t even fuck right.” I can’t scream because of his hands. I can’t fight because of his weight. I can’t do anything to stop him. Maybe, just maybe, this time he’ll kill me, and it will be over. No, I can’t let him win. I bite down on his hands hard, and he pulls back. “HELP, HELP. SOMEBODY HELP ME. HELP ME! “SAM, WAKE UP.” Somebody’s shaking me, but I can’t escape.

~ Liana ~ The moment I slammed the door of my hotel room, the tears started flowing. My legs gave way, and I found myself crumpled on the floor, my back pressed against the cold wall. The robe from the bed hung around me like a heavy blanket, offering no comfort from the storm brewing inside. With trembling hands, I reached for the remote control. I hesitated, not wanting to face anything that might judge me further than I already felt—but there was this nagging need to see it. I had to grasp just how far my life had spiraled out of control.

"No. I need to do this alone. But thank you for offering." We hung up, and I sat on my couch wondering what Mirabel had written. Knowing my sister, it was probably full of guilt and self-pity. But maybe, just maybe, there was something real in there too. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Anthony. "My father dissolved the partnership with Samuel today. It's official." I read the message twice, then typed back. "How is he taking it?" "Not well. But it's done." "And how are you taking it?"

Charlotte’s shoulders collapsed inward, like she wanted to disappear. I closed my eyes, and the rage surged through me like wildfire. It wasn’t just about Evan and Charlotte. It wasn’t even just about betrayal. It was years - years - of being taken for granted, of having to be the bigger person, the one who understood, who endured. And now I was standing in the middle of a room full of people - an audience - and two of them had shattered me. I felt the burning bile rise in my throat. Felt it clawing to be released.

“We’ll talk then. Now go back inside before your father comes out. I’d rather him not see us together.” My body was racked with trembles and shivers. Despite the heat of the summer day, I’d never felt so cold. I could feel myself shake like I was on the verge of hypothermia. Instead of breaking down into a mixture of tears and screams, I forced myself to leave the table and walk away with my head held high…and my heart shattered in my chest. I’m on my way. I was relieved that he’d made good on his word, but I was also terrified by that message. It was so straightforward and simple, with no emotion whatsoever, no attachment. It felt like we were about to have a business meeting.

She was a hollow shell of a person who was losing herself everyday. She was a broken doll just like her fractured marriage and destroyed destiny. ━━━━━━━━━━ So how was the first chapter you all?

Smirked. And turned away. He reached for the axe again, gripped it tight, and swung. Another clean strike. Wood exploded apart. I didn’t move. Couldn’t. My knees were weak. My skin on fire. He didn’t tell me to leave. He didn’t have to. The message was clear. He’d unraveled me, piece by piece, and went right back to work like he hadn’t just shattered my composure. I turned and stumbled back toward the house, each step shaky, breath shallow.