The Last Time He Touched Me Chapter 02

The Last Time He Touched Me Chapter 02

Damien is wearing a black shirt today. His sleeves are casually rolled up to his forearms, revealing tight, clean lines of muscle.

He tilts his head slightly toward me.

“Get in. I’ll drive you.”

I instinctively want to refuse, but he is already opening the passenger door.

After a brief hesitation, I get in.

While fastening my seatbelt, I deliberately avoid looking at him.

“Just drop me off at the station.”

He does not respond. He starts the car.

The entire ride is silent. Only the faint hum of the air conditioning fills the space between us.

I turn to look out the window. The city scenery blurs backward.

The TV station building gets closer and closer. Two blocks away, I finally speak.

“Pull over up ahead.”

Damien glances forward but does not slow down.

“Not there yet.”

“You don’t need to take me all the way to the entrance,” I bite my lip. “Today is my promotion day. I don’t want people talking.”

He is silent for a moment, then pulls over to the roadside.

I open the door and step out.

“Thank you, Don Grimholt,” I say.

Damien frowns slightly.

“I prefer it when you just call me by my name.”

“You’re getting married. It’s not appropriate anymore.”

He says nothing after that. He only glances at the rearview mirror, then steps on the gas and drives away.

…

Fortunately, I am not late.

As soon as I walk into the station, colleagues come over to congratulate me.

“Congratulations, Kristen.”

“You have to treat us to coffee when you become program lead.”

I smile lightly, “I’ll treat everyone to dinner.”

The office is lively, until a colleague comes to call me into the director’s office.

On the way there, my heart keeps rising with excitement.

After five years of working hard in Boston, I am finally about to secure my place in this city.

But that feeling of anticipation shatters the moment I push open the director’s office door.

“Kristen, after internal discussion, the Global Finance Nightline program will now be fully taken over by Lindsey Barrett. You will assist her with the handover process.”

I freeze.

My voice trembles slightly.

“This program has always been under my responsibility. Why is it suddenly being given to a newcomer?”

“More importantly, I rebuilt this show from the ground up. It used to be the lowest-rated program in the station. I turned it into one of our flagship shows.”

The director looks at me with a trace of pity.

“This is a decision from above.”

Seeing that I still refuse to accept it, he finally says it directly.

“Lindsey is bringing in a one-billion-dollar investment.”

“That investment alone can cover nearly ten years of our advertising targets. If you were the director, who would you choose?”

I lean against the wall, my mind buzzing.

The office door opens again.

A woman in a professional suit with long brown curls appears.

She extends her hand, “Hi, I’m Lindsey Barrett.”

I know her.

She is Damien’s first love who has just returned to the country. His fiancée. His future Donna.

The scattered threads in my mind connect instantly.

It is obvious who is behind that one-billion-dollar investment.

I suddenly laugh.

Two years ago, I fought tooth and nail to secure sponsorship for my show and only managed to get a ten-million naming deal from Damien.

Back then, I was grateful beyond words for that ten million.

Now, for Lindsey, he invests one billion.

Ten million and one billion.

In his world, I am worth only one-tenth of her.

No. Maybe not even that.

I am still too angry to let it go, so I go to Damien’s company to demand an explanation.

The receptionist recognizes me and lets me pass without a word, as if already used to my “special relationship” with this place.

The elevator rises slowly. The numbers tick upward like a tightening breath.

Top floor.

The doors open. Cold air mixed with cedar and paper rushes out, heavy and suffocating.

The secretary does not ask anything. She simply leads me to the thick wooden door.

“He is inside.”

Damien sits behind a large desk, reading documents. He does not even look up.

“What do you need?”

My throat tightens. I force back the tears.

My voice breaks anyway.

“There are so many positions in the station… why did you have to take my program and give it to her?”