Do You Still Love Me When We Meet Again? (Aubrey and Damon) novel Chapter 68

Chapter 68

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As evening fell, the sun sank low in the west.

The corner of the coffee shop was awash in the warm, fading glow of the sunset. Damon had already ordered two fruit teas, and Veronica sat across

from him.

He got straight to the point, no preamble. “I’m sorry,” he stated bluntly. “Our engagement is off.”

Veronica clutched her teacup, knuckles white, and lowered her head, lost in a tangle of anxious indecision. Her voice was barely a whisper. “You know everything?”

Damon paused, not yet ready to offer an explanation. His cold, questioning gaze pierced right through her.

Veronica, feeling a pang of guilt under his intense stare, rushed to explain. “When I was studying abroad, I had a boyfriend. We dated for about six months before breaking up. If it weren’t for this security clearance background check, I never would have known his father was a high–ranking official in a foreign intelligence agency.”

Damon offered a faint smile.

Veronica leaned forward, urgency lacing her voice. “While this connection is sensitive, your aunt herself said I could submit a report explaining I had no knowledge of it. And we broke up years ago; it won’t affect the security clearance background check. Please, Damon, believe me my background is absolutely clean.”

Damon picked up his iced lemon tea, took a sip, and cleared his throat. “Thank you for the information, Veronica. But if that’s the reason, I definitely won’t be marrying you.”

Veronica anxiously leaned closer. “It’s a minor issue. If I resubmit the relevant documents, the background check will pass.”

Damon’s voice was flat. “It’s just a wife; anyone will do. There’s no need to pick someone with a tarnished background.”

At his words, Veronica’s face fell. She bit her lower lip, indignation flashing in her eyes. “It’s just sensitive! It can be explained away. How is that a flaw?”

“To be blunt, even if your background was impeccably clean and the check passed, I still wouldn’t marry you.”

Veronica stared, aghast. “It’s not because of my ex–boyfriend’s sensitive connections?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

“Hannah Pierce is a relative of yours, isn’t she?”

Veronica nodded.

“How are you related?”

“My mother is her cousin.”

“She overstepped her boundaries, meddling in affairs that weren’t her business, and it frankly disgusts me. So, I won’t marry any woman she introduces to me, and that includes you.”

Only then did Veronica realize Damon hadn’t known about her sensitive background check issues or the supplementary documents she was filing

Had she just exposed herself?

“Mr. Blackwood, you’re at odds with your aunt–why drag our engagement into it? Don’t you think this is ridiculous?”

“From the very first day, I made it clear I was marrying just any woman. Do you understand what ‘any‘ means?“

Veronica clenched her fists so tight her nails dug into the flesh of her palms. She bit down on her back molars, stifling a furious breath.

“Nothing was set in stone yet, so it was ‘easy‘ enough to end it.” Damon pulled a bank card from his pocket and slid it across the table. “This is your

compensation.”

Veronica immediately pushed the card back. “Mr. Blackwood, I don’t want your compensation. I’m not going to give up so easily. I want to fight for this. Please, just reconsider.”

Damon’s gaze fell on the card she’d rejected. He was about to speak, but her voice surged forward, swallowing his words whole.

“I have my own career, I earn my own money, I can manage a home, and I won’t even ask you to love me. I would be a perfectly capable wife.”

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Damon’s attitude was cold and resolute. “Miss Pierce, this isn’t-”

He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before Veronica stood up, grabbing her bag and cutting him off. “Don’t be so quick to decide. There’s plenty of time. We can talk more about this next time we meet. I have work, so I need to go.”

With that, she clutched her bag and rushed out.

Damon was utterly speechless. He picked up the bank card again, his eyes sweeping past her to fix on the window. Outside, the twilight had deepened into a vast, hazy expanse, and the first city lights were just beginning to prickle to life.

His heart plummeted into a bottomless pit, his thoughts slowly drifting.

At the funeral home.

As the interminable wait for the cremation dragged on, Aubrey sat on a bench in the corner, a figure of profound stillness.

The death of a loved one leaves a raw, aching wound, a sorrow that seeps into your bones and lingers through the rest of your days.

It was a silent gloom, a deep grief.

Brendan and Chloe had arrived yesterday. Furious they’d been cut out of the compensation his aunt Hannah had arranged, they’d torn into her, spending the entire night arguing and relentlessly badgering her with every tactic imaginable, from pleading to outright demands. But she wouldn’t budge. Finally, the couple, livid, had flown back to Crestview City.

She was the sole one left to wait for her mother’s cremation, to carry the ashes home.

At her most desperate, needing her family’s comfort, her father was in prison. Her brother, meanwhile, had cut ties with her over their mother’s compensation payout.

How tragic.

She lifted her gaze to the screen.

Layla (age 53): Cremation in Progress…

The sterile words branded her heart like molten lava, a searing pain she couldn’t bear. She hadn’t cried or made a scene, but she couldn’t find a shred of

peace.

She had no one left to lean on.

She was close to breaking.

Suddenly,

Slow, steady footsteps echoed, and Aubrey caught sight of a figure approaching from the corner of her eye, settling down beside her.

She pulled her gaze away, turning to look at the person beside her.

The man wore a black shirt and pants, his posture tall and commanding, a bottle of vitamin C electrolyte drink in his hand.

Damon’s familiar, handsome features were etched with a dark solemnity, his gaze, heavy with guilt, finding Aubrey’s.

Aubrey’s heart clenched at Damon’s sudden appearance, her fingers instinctively tightening on the hem of her dress.

She glanced around, her eyes scanning for Tracy, but saw no sign of her. A question mark hung heavy in her mind: Why had Damon come?

Damon said nothing, simply extending the electrolyte drink he held towards her.

The past two days had been a blur of her mother’s funeral arrangements. Aubrey had barely touched food, and today, she hadn’t even had a drop of water. Her body was screaming for a break.

“Thank you,” Aubrey murmured, accepting the bottle. She fumbled with the cap, trying to twist it open, but her fingers felt like jelly, and the lid refused to budge.

Damon’s gaze fell to her hands. Seeing she couldn’t even twist open the cap, he let out a helpless sigh and took the drink from her.

As their fingertips brushed, a jolt of warmth shot through her.

Aubrey withdrew her hand, her heart heavy, as if packed with stones, big and small. The immense weight pressed down, stealing her breath

Damon unscrewed the drink and handed it to her.

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“Thank you,” Aubrey said, gingerly taking the bottle and taking a slow sip.

It was tart and sweet, soothing and incredibly refreshing.

She took several deep gulps, then slowly twisted the cap back on.

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Damon leaned back, his hands resting on his thighs, his long legs spread wide with a casual, almost sprawling confidence.

His leg brushed against Aubrey’s, sending an inexplicable tremor through her. She subtly closed her legs, leaning slightly away from his touch, and asked softly, “What are you doing here?”

Damon’s gaze flickered to the screen. “Your mother was injured at my house. I can’t shirk my responsibility. I came to talk about compensation.”

“It’s not necessary. His family already… handled it.” Aubrey’s lips thinned into a bitter line. “They said you were the one who handled it.”

“She’s her, and I’m me.”

Aubrey let out a soft huff, turning her head to face him. “My mother’s illness has nothing to do with you. Don’t take responsibility for everything.”

Damon’s expression grew serious. “If you don’t let me compensate you, I’ll feel guilty for the rest of my life.”

His gaze felt scorching.

Aubrey lowered her head, shying away from his intense gaze. “Okay. What kind of compensation do you have in mind?”

Damon countered, “What do you want?”

Aubrey managed a bitter laugh, her vision blurring. “I want my mother to be alive.”

“I wish I could, but I can’t.”

“Then there’s nothing else I want.”

“All my income from the past year is tied up in investments, so I don’t have cash to give you right now.” Damon pulled a key from his pocket, gripped her wrist, and drew her hand toward him, placing the key into her palm. “This is the apartment we shared for over three years in college. I bought it a while back, and it’s yours now, as compensation. We’ll take care of the transfer paperwork later.”

Aubrey stared at the familiar apartment key, her hand trembling slightly. The cute, well–worn little charm on the keychain carried all the beautiful memories they once shared.

She’d never imagined she’d ever see that key again.

Aubrey’s eyes misted, her lips pressed into a bitter line, and she slowly extended the key back. “I can’t take this. This apartment must be worth millions. My mom just got sick right outside your house; for you to offer an entire apartment as compensation is completely outlandish, it’s way too much.”

“Anyway, this house is just sitting empty, and I have no use for it.”

“Then sell it, save the money, and support your wife and kids.”

Damon’s tone sharpened abruptly, and he scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Ha! Aubrey, why are you acting so high and mighty? You’ve always loved money, haven’t you?”

Aubrey frowned deeply, gazing at him in shock.

Damon raised an eyebrow, his tone exceptionally arrogant and cold: “I know you’re ruthless, but I never imagined your heart was this dark. You want me to live the rest of my life riddled with guilt over your mother’s accidental death?”

“That’s not what I meant…” Aubrey was stunned.

“So, you’re just complaining that the house is too small, in a bad neighborhood, and worthless.”

Aubrey took a deep breath, her heart, already aching, now felt even more tormented. Enraged, she clutched the keys. “Yes, if you’re offering, I’ll take them. Only a fool wouldn’t.”

“Don’t hog it all,” Damon reminded her, his voice flat.

Aubrey was stunned again. “What?”

“The eight hundred thousand my aunt gave you–Tracy said you put it in your father’s name. So this house is for you and your brother.”

Why were Damon’s words so cutting? Aubrey couldn’t understand why.

Did he really think she was the kind of person to just pocket the compensation?

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Aubrey pursed her lips, taking a long, deep breath. Struggling to keep her voice even, she asked, “Should I call my brother to New Haven City to handle the title transfer together?”

“No,” he said, his voice flat. “This house is comparable in value to the one in Crestview City. Just give him that one instead.”

Aubrey’s hand clenched around the keys, her fist trembling slightly, her eyes misty. “My mom’s gone. I don’t have a home anymore. If I give the Crestview City house to my brother, where am I supposed to live? Keep renting?”

Damon’s brows furrowed slightly, his gaze deepening. “How can you say you don’t have a home? Don’t you still have a place here in New Haven City?”

It finally dawned on her, after all the roundabout conversation, he was just trying to make her settle in New Haven City.

Aubrey clutched the keys so tightly her knuckles ached, her gaze darting to the side. Her reddened eyes brimmed with unshed tears, and a dull ache, like a thousand tiny needles, pierced her chest.

She eased the suffocating pressure in her chest, lowering her head. Her voice came out raspy and fragile, “Damon, what exactly do you want from me?”

“Nothing. Just normal compensation.”

“You know about my father being in prison, don’t you?”

“Mm.” Damon leaned back in the chair, his gaze fixed straight ahead, his face hardening.

“You wanted to ask me about it, didn’t you? Why aren’t you asking now?”

“What’s there to ask?” Damon gave a bitter laugh, a forced sigh escaping him, his words ringing hollow. “Your answer would just be that you don’t love me, that it had nothing to do with your father. And besides, I’m getting married. I don’t want any more ties with you. Consider us even now that you

have this house.”

A sharp pang tore through Aubrey’s chest.

Every word Damon spoke was her answer.

It was as if he’d seen right through her, knew the outcome she desired, and wanted no further entanglement with her.

She should have felt a rush of relief, but the crushing ache beneath her ribs was too strong to suppress, her eyes blurring with unshed tears.

Her head bowed low, she gave a tight, forceful nod, a choked “Mm–hmm” barely escaping her throat.

“When’s the flight?”

“Tomorrow at noon.”