Chapter 8: Love on Camera

With the Morgan name behind him, Nathan Carter was now a top-tier celebrity.

The show’s live feed exploded—over a million viewers tuned in. The chat was blowing up: #PowerCouple #DramaAlert #MorganMagic

Spotlights beat down. Tanya’s voice echoed: "I hear President Morgan and Nathan Carter are discussing marriage. Tell us—what’s the journey been like?"

Nathan turned to her, his smile soft. "I never believed the rumors or the haters. Lillian’s always been the one for me."

He looked at her like she hung the moon. But Lillian just smiled, gaze low. "…Liar. When I first lost my sight, you could barely stand me. Don’t pretend you’ve forgotten."

Nathan stiffened. His eyes darted to me, cold and sharp. But on camera, he managed a smile. "I don’t really remember. Maybe love made all the bad stuff disappear."

I glanced at the live comments: "So sweet!" "Couple goals!" "Give us a wedding date!"

I put down my script, grabbed my mic, and asked Lillian, "Seems like you two remember things differently. Want to tell us how you adjusted to each other?"

I half-expected her to brush it off. But after a pause, she answered.

"When I first went blind, I was angry at the world, angry at him. He was always busy, but still had to take care of me. One day, he left fish on the stove, ran out to buy salt, and forgot the burner. By the time he got back, the kitchen was on fire."

My throat closed. Suddenly I was there again—the heat, the flames, the panic.

I dragged her out. Gripping her collar, I shouted, "Do you want to die?"

I was shaking, voice cracking. She didn’t fight back. After a long silence, she whispered, "Wouldn’t it be better if I did? Wouldn’t it be easier for you?"

That was the moment I saw it—the once untouchable Morgan heiress was just a lost kitten bluffing at being fierce.

I pulled her inside, the walls black with smoke. One by one, I undid her buttons and murmured, "No dinner, so you owe me."

She hesitated. "Are you sure…"

The rest was lost in a kiss.

"Lillian, you were never a burden."

That night, the world was upside down, only us left standing.

Now, as she recalled it, the world thought those memories belonged to her and Nathan. The bitterness in my chest was suffocating. Her scent—familiar, yet no longer mine—filled the air.

She finished, applause crashing over us: "I’ll always remember the moonlight that night. I couldn’t see, but he talked to me till dawn."

My vision blurred. I gripped my pen, hoping no one saw my shaking hands. The spotlights made the air shimmer. I heard the faintest quaver in her voice—too subtle for cameras, but not for me.