Who Wrote Shatter Me Novels & Stories

Vincent Torrino's directive, a placebo treatment will be administered to ensure permanent functional impairment. I collapsed to the floor, the report fluttering from my hand. For three years, I had cried myself to sleep, hating my own weakness, hating that I couldn't create. And he, the husband I loved more than life itself, was the one who had destroyed me. Tears streamed down my face, hot and furious, but I wiped them away with a vicious swipe. This wasn’t the time for grief. It was time for answers. I quietly put everything back, my movements stiff with newfound purpose.

" My hands, still pressed against his wound, went cold. His voice echoed like thunder in my ears. My nails dug into my palms, and the pain bloomed across my chest. Tears stung my eyes, but I held them back, desperate to keep just a shred of dignity. Charles, you were the one who let go. This time, I really am walking away.

"What? Do you think I'm making this up to scare you?" The warm light from above cast a slanted shadow on the edge of the table. He stared at me, and for once, didn't rush to deny anything. "You broke up with me…because of this?" I almost laughed. "Does it even matter now? Even if I were healthy, I never would have lasted long enough for you to finally turn around and look at me. I overheard your friends talking. Apparently, I wasn't even someone you'd be willing to settle for. I used to think we'd actually make it to the end."

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.

Ignoring Prince Alexus's storm-dark expression, he whisked me away. Even a fool would understand now—this was no ordinary man. I yanked my hand free and met his gaze head-on. "Who exactly are you?" He gave a helpless shrug. "Your attitude wounds me. My name is Cain. "You've probably heard that the current queen isn't the true first wife. The real one—my mother—died giving birth to me. My father believed I brought misfortune and sent me to the human world. "On the day your sister got engaged, I made a rare trip home… and then happened to meet you. And then we… well…"

But then, slowly, the words began to come. She wrote about her past—about the pain, the betrayal, the loss. She wrote about the journey she had been on, the path of revenge she had walked for so long. And then she wrote about her hopes for the future, about the woman she wanted to become, the life she wanted to build. As the words flowed onto the page, Elara felt a weight lift from her shoulders. This was the first step toward reclaiming her life. She wasn’t sure where the path would lead, but for the first time in a long time, she felt a glimmer of hope.

Just before the bomb exploded, I closed my eyes in despair and sent one final message through mind-link. "In the name of the Moon Goddess, I hereby sever my Mate Bond with you." And with that, I cut the mind-link.

"You are nothing. You were born from death, and death is all you'll bring." Those words have followed Zara Cole every single day of her seventeen years alive. Her mother died bringing her into the world, and her father - the Beta of Ironveil Pack - never let her forget it. While her brother trains to inherit their father's title, Zara trains in the dark. Alone. Unseen. Better than all of them. She is the top student. The fastest warrior. The girl nobody looks at twice. Until the day everything changes. When a transfer student named Mira walks into the pack training and decides - for reasons Zara cannot explain that she wants to be her friend, the walls Zara built brick by

"…shattered. More than before." The raw vulnerability in her words, the fear laid bare, shattered something inside me. It wasn't anger. It was a profound, gut-wrenching understanding of the damage I'd done. The trust I'd annihilated. She was giving me everything, stepping off the cliff, and her only safety net was the terrifying belief that this time, I wouldn't let her fall.

I poured every pain, every humiliation, every sleepless night into fabric and design. I stopped eating for comfort and started working everywhere, because revenge bodies don't build themselves. And little by little, Elsa-the-wallflower faded away. And someday, if Jace Weston ever sees me again… He'd beg to taste the girl he once called gross.