CHAPTER 6: THE GUY WHO STABBED A GUY

DAMIAN The mess of papers and clothes scattered across the living room. I'd barely slept a wink, tossing and turning, haunted by thoughts of Marie. Making it hard to breathe. She hadn't even come to get her things herself—she sent Charlie. That stung more than I expected. She didn't want to see me, not even for a minute. I rolled out of the couch; my body heavy with exhaustion. My limbs were sore, the bruises on my knuckles still raw from when I'd pounded Charlie's smug face in. I skipped the shower, not caring about the sweat clinging to my skin. My reflection in the bathroom mirror was a stranger—messy hair, bloodshot eyes, and stubble darkening my jawline. I used to be meticulous about my appearance, but now...who was there to impress? Certainly not Marie. The kitchen was messy, with dishes piled up in the sink and the counters cluttered with empty takeout containers. I ran a hand through my hair, Coffee. I needed coffee. I grabbed a mug from the cupboard, filled it with black coffee from the pot since last night, and leaned against the counter. The bitter taste did little to wake me up, but it was better than nothing. My eyes fell on the fridge, and I opened it, hoping to find something edible. There it was—the leftover spaghetti Marie had made. My stomach tightened at the sight of it. I pulled it out and placed the container in the microwave, the whirring noise filling the silent kitchen. As the timer beeped, I grabbed a fork and removed the steaming bowl. The first bite was enough to make me gag. It tasted off, sour—wholly ruined. I spat it out into the sink, cursing under my breath. Of course, it was spoiled. She must've put it in the fridge before she left, not knowing I'd turn it off when I rushed to the hospital to see her. Another fucking reminder of how everything between us was falling apart. I shoved the bowl aside and took another sip of coffee, trying to decide if I had the energy to order food. Before I could make a decision, a knock broke my thought. My heart skipped a beat. I thought it might be Marie, but I quickly dismissed the idea. She wouldn't come here. I set down my mug and walked to the door, pulling it open to find Ray standing there, smirking like he owned the place. "Well, well, if it isn't Damian Callaghan, the mighty titan of the industry, looking like he's been dragged through hell," Ray mocked, his eyes raking over my unkempt appearance. "You forgot to shower, or are you trying to set a new trend?" I shot him a glare, stepping aside to let him in. "What do you want, Ray?" "Just thought I'd drop by and see how you're holding up after your little marital crisis," Ray said with a grin as he strolled into the living room, glancing at the papers on the coffee table and the plate of sour spaghetti I'd abandoned on the kitchen counter. I followed him into the kitchen, grabbing my coffee again. "Want some coffee?" I offered, though my tone made it clear I didn't care whether he accepted. Ray eyed the coffee pot and then the plate of spaghetti. "Uh, no thanks. I think I'll pass." He wrinkled his nose. "I see your culinary skills haven't improved." "Fuck off," I muttered, leaning against the counter, nursing my coffee like it was the only thing holding me together. Ray chuckled and settled into one of the barstools. "So, tell me, Damian, how did your perfect little world come crashing down? Word is Marie found your journal, the one with all the dirt on her father's company." I stiffened at the mention of the journal. "Yeah," I muttered. "She found it." Ray whistled lowly, shaking his head. "Man, you screwed up this time. I told you to keep that shit locked up tight. What the hell were you thinking, keeping something that incriminating around?" I clenched my jaw, the anger bubbling up again. "I didn't expect her to go snooping through my things." "Of course, she'd snoop. You married a smart woman, Damian. You knew that." Ray's voice was laced with mockery, but there was also a hint of genuine frustration. "You got sloppy, man. You're supposed to be better than this." "I know!" I snapped, slamming my coffee mug on the counter and spilling some dark liquid. "I know I fucked up, okay? But all I want now is to get her back." Ray raised an eyebrow, his smirk fading. "Get her back? Are you serious? After all the shit you've pulled, you think she's just going to waltz back into your arms? You've gone soft, Damian. This isn't the guy I used to know. Where's the man who stabbed a guy for looking at him wrong? Where's the ruthless bastard who took down anyone who crossed him?" His words cut deep, reminding me of the man I used to be, who didn't let anything stand in his way. But that was before Marie. Before, she made me want something more than revenge before she made me want a future. "People change, Ray," I said, my voice low, almost defeated. "I don't care about the damn company anymore. I want Marie." Ray leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied me, his eyes narrowing. "You think she's going to forgive you? After discovering you've been using her to get back at her old man? Come on, Damian. You know better than that." I ran a hand through my hair, the frustration gnawing at me. "I don't know. But I have to try." Ray scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're pathetic, you know that? I've been waiting years for you to finish the job finally. We've come too far to let some woman get in the way." "She's not just some woman," I shot back, my voice tinged with desperation. "She's my wife." "Not anymore," Ray reminded me coldly. "She's divorcing your ass, and it's your damn fault. Do you want my advice? Forget about her. Focus on what matters—taking down that bastard Gregory Albert. That's what you've been working toward all these years?" I clenched my fists, the sore knuckles protesting the movement. "I can't just forget about her, Ray. She's the one thing in my life that makes sense." Ray snorted, rising from his seat and pacing around the kitchen, the frustration evident in his movements. "You're a damn fool, Damian. Love's made you weak. You used to be ruthless and unstoppable. Now, look at you—moping around because your wife found out you've been plotting against her family." I watched him pace, my thoughts spinning out of control. Was he right? Had I lost the edge that made me who I was? But how could I go back to that life, that man, knowing what I felt for Marie? "You think I wanted this?" I asked, my voice hoarse. "You think I wanted to fall in love with her? It just... happened." Ray stopped pacing, turning to face me with a look of utter disdain. "That's exactly your problem, Damian. You let it happen. You let her get under your skin, and now look at you—willing to throw everything away for a woman who doesn't even want you." His words hit hard, but I couldn't deny the truth in them. I had let her in, let her change me. And now I was paying the price. "I'm not giving up on her," I said firmly, meeting his gaze. Ray's expression hardened, his patience wearing thin. "You're going to regret this. You're going to lose everything if you keep chasing after her. And don't come crying to me when you're left with nothing." I stared at him, my mind racing. I knew what was at stake—my revenge, plans, everything I'd worked so hard to achieve. Ray sighed, shaking his head as if I were a lost cause. "Fine, do whatever the hell you want. But don't say I didn't warn you." He turned and headed for the door, leaving me alone in my kitchen.