All Chapters of MY UNDOING: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

MACEY I was so glad Sam came around, because honestly, I don’t know what I would’ve done without her. If she hadn’t pushed me, I probably wouldn’t have checked my emails and wouldn’t have seen all those interview invites sitting there like unopened chances. Three interviews in one day. Three rejections disguised as polite smiles and tight handshakes. By the time I walked out of the last firm, I was running on caffeine fumes and disappointment. My head hurt, my feet hurt, and my soul hurt. All I wanted was a hot shower, a cup of coffee, and maybe, just maybe, five minutes of peace. But peace didn’t seem to like me much these days. “Macey Carter!” I froze. My stomach dropped before I even turned around. The voice had that sharp edge. It was too bright, too eager, too familiar. When I faced her, I knew immediately. A journalist. Of course. She had that look—designer coat, fake sympathy smile, recorder already half out of her pocket. Like she’d been waiting for me to step out, read

DAMIEN I didn’t even get a chance to sit properly at my desk before the news started flying around the office. Screens flashing, phones buzzing, and emails pinging one after another. The air felt heavier than usual, charged with that kind of tension that spreads like wildfire before someone drops a bomb. My chest tightened the moment I glanced at the headlines flashing across one of the monitors. And just like that, everything in me went cold, then hot, then cold again. My head started pounding before I even had a sip of coffee. What the hell were these people on? What kind of monsters were they, attacking her like she had done something wrong? She’d lost something no one should ever have to lose. A child. Her child. And instead of offering sympathy, they threw her to the wolves for entertainment. For a headline. For clicks. It made me sick. I slammed my phone on the desk, the sound echoing in the quiet of my office. A few heads turned from outside the glass walls, and I could a

DAMIEN I couldn’t sit still. Not for another second. The house was too quiet, too neat, too damn sterile for the storm in my head. My phone lay facedown on the counter, buzzing every few minutes—Zinna, most likely—but I didn’t have it in me to answer. Not tonight. Not after everything. Even after confronting Aliyah, even after letting out the rage that had been clawing at my chest for days, I still felt… empty. Like I’d burned everything down and was standing in the ashes, waiting for peace that refused to come. Macey’s face haunted every inch of my mind. Her laugh. The way her voice softened when she said my name. The way her eyes had looked the last time I saw her...tired, guarded, broken. I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed my keys from the counter and stared at my reflection in the mirror. What I saw wasn’t the Damien Blackwell the world knew. Not the polished CEO. Not the man who always had a plan. I looked like hell. My shirt was loose, wrinkled, eyes bloodshot and hollow

MACEY I sat in my car, parked right in front of the therapist’s office, and stared at the glass doors like they were daring me to walk through them. My fingers gripped the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned pale. My heart beat too fast, too loud. I wasn’t sure if I was anxious, terrified, or just… tired. Maybe all three. The world outside looked calm, but inside, I was chaos. I had never been to therapy before. The thought of sitting in front of a stranger and peeling back every layer I had built to survive made my stomach twist. It was easier to keep pretending I was fine. I was getting so good at it. Smiling when people asked how I was doing. Saying, “I’m okay,” like it wasn’t a lie. I’d convinced everyone, maybe even myself. But I wasn’t okay. The truth was, I hadn’t been okay in a long time. My phone buzzed on the passenger seat, pulling me out of my thoughts. When I saw Samantha’s name flash across the screen, I hesitated. Part of me wanted to ignore it. I di

DAMIEN I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t even bring myself to touch her. Ruby sat beside me on the edge of that cheap bed, the low light painting her skin gold. She smelled like vanilla and whiskey, a combination that should’ve done something for me, but it didn’t. Her fingers traced my arm, light and practiced, her lips curling into a soft smile as she leaned closer. But I felt nothing. Not a spark, not a pull—nothing close to what Macey made me feel with just one glance. I sat there, staring at the wall like a complete idiot, my mind miles away. She said something, something flirtatious and probably rehearsed, but I didn’t even catch it. I was too busy thinking about the way Macey laughed, the way she said my name, and the way she looked at me like she saw through all my bullshit. Ruby tried again, brushing her hand over my chest, and that’s when I stood up. “I can’t,” I said, my voice rougher than I meant it to be. She blinked, confused. “Did I do something wrong?” I shook my