The Last Time He Touched Me Chapter 04

The Last Time He Touched Me Chapter 04

Damien stands quietly on the Boston Harborwalk, looking at me for a long moment before speaking in a flat tone.

“Kristen, you break the rules of the game.”

Humiliation and anger surge through me at once.

The next day, I ask him for a breakup.

For three months, we fall into a cold war. I am in pain, unraveling quietly, while he remains untouched, calmly controlling his underworld empire as if nothing has changed.

In the end, I am the one who gives in first.

The moment I am pulled into his familiar scent of wood and cold cologne, I even try to comfort myself.

Maybe this is no different from being in a relationship. After all, over the years, there has never been another woman around Damien.

Only now do I fully understand the truth.

It is not the same.

For example, now that I am not even his girlfriend, I do not even have the right to question him when I hear he is getting married.

I was never a candidate for his Donna. I do not belong in his world.

…

Today, the program is hosting a large live event, inviting several major figures from the finance world for a roundtable discussion.

However, just before the broadcast begins, something goes wrong.

The scheduled guests do not show up.

Ten minutes before airtime, the station director, Cameron, stares at the empty studio and publicly lashes out at me.

“Kristen, you are an experienced host. How could you make a mistake like this?”

“If you do not want this job, you can get out!”

I bite my lip in humiliation and am about to explain when Lindsey walks in.

“Cameron, please do not worry. I have already found a solution.”

“The original guests had a last-minute issue, so I asked my boyfriend to bring in replacements. They are already in the guest lounge.”

The replacement guests she brings in are far more influential than our original lineup.

Cameron’s expression immediately changes from anger to delight, and he praises her repeatedly.

Lindsey walks up beside me, deliberately raising her voice.

“Kristen, do not take what Cameron l said to heart. After all, you are not professionally trained, and your academic background is not strong. Mistakes like this are understandable.”

I catch the flicker of satisfaction at the corner of her lips and instantly understand everything.

After she leaves, I pick up my phone and type:

[The guests we originally invited, you know them, right? You did this on purpose?]

Damien replies quickly:

[Lindsey knows about our past relationship. She is upset. Let her vent.]

[My marriage with her is not a joke. Do not interfere and ruin it.]

I close my eyes hard. A sharp sting rises in my nose, and even my breathing tightens.

So that is it.

He goes to such lengths just to soothe another woman’s anger, using me as the target.

After the event ends, I am called into the office.

Before Cameron can even start reprimanding me, I hand over my resignation letter.

He stares at it in surprise.

“Kristen, I only said a few words to you. Are you more temperamental than I am now?”

I force a small smile.

“It is not like that, Cameron. It is my own decision.”

“I am not planning to stay in Boston anymore. I am going back home.”

Every time I recall what Damien said that day, a deep sense of humiliation and suffocation rises in me.

His words feel like a constant reminder that, in front of money and power, everything I have built over five years means nothing.

I cannot change the fact that I once relied on him to stand firm in Boston. So I decide to leave.

Before officially resigning, there are still some handover tasks at the station.

One week is enough to close the chapter on five years of my life.

On the weekend, I receive a video call from my mother, who as usual urges me to go on blind dates.

This time, when she sends me a profile, I do not immediately refuse.

The next day, I arrive at the restaurant early according to the address.

A man soon sits down across from me.

“Kristen Mercer?”

His voice is warm, polite, perfectly measured.

I look up and study him. He is wearing a deep navy suit, one button casually undone at the collar, the typical polished look of an investment banker.

I curve my lips slightly.

“Ye, hello, Mr. Jameson.”

Kyle has only just sat down and begun exchanging pleasantries when he pauses mid-sentence.

“Sorry, I am a bit stuck in traffic—”

He stops abruptly.

His gaze shifts past my shoulder toward the entrance, his eyes lighting up slightly.

“Excuse me for a moment.”

He stands and walks straight toward the door.

“Don—Mr. Grimholt, what a coincidence. I did not expect to see you here.”

Following his line of sight, I freeze completely.

Damien is standing at the entrance.