Chapter 4 The Statement He Wrote for Me

Once the livestream started, security stopped me in the second-floor hallway.

Below, the ballroom was bathed in light, and Cameron stood at the center of the stage, perfectly composed under the cameras.

The host smiled at him. "You won Best Actor tonight, and there are a lot of people waiting to hear what you have to say. Cameron, is there anything you'd like to tell them?"

He accepted the microphone. "First, I want to thank everyone who's supported me."

The live comments raced across the screen.

'You deserve this!'

'Give Rose the answer she's been waiting for!'

'Don't make her cry anymore!'

My fingers tightened around the railing as a production assistant led Rose onto the stage.

The moment Cameron looked at her, his expression softened. "There's someone who stood by me during one of the hardest periods of my life."

Rose covered her mouth as tears filled her eyes, and the audience erupted in cheers and applause.

I stood in the shadows above them, my stomach twisting.

…

A few seconds later, Cameron's manager rushed down the hallway toward me, holding a sheet of paper. "Noelle, sign this."

I took one look at it and realized it was a prepared statement that read, 'I, Noelle Gill, worked with Mr. Cameron Baxter in the early years of his career...'

I read through the rest before letting out a short laugh. "Who wrote this?"

His manager avoided my eyes. "It's what Cameron wants."

"He wants me to sign it?"

"He knows you're upset right now. He said that if you help get everyone through tonight, he won't hold any of this against you."

I stared at him, almost amused. 'Won't hold any of this against me? How generous.'

I pushed the statement back into his hands. "No."

His expression tightened. "Noelle, don't be stupid. Do you have any idea how much attention he's getting right now? Do you really want to destroy his career?"

I gazed at the stage.

Cameron was gently wiping a tear from Rose's cheek as if she were something fragile and precious.

My mom's shawl still draped around her shoulders. One corner had slipped onto the floor, and Rose stepped on it without noticing, leaving a gray streak of dust across the pale blue fabric.

I looked back at his manager. "I can't destroy Cameron."

"Then, sign it."

"But I'm not saving him anymore."

His expression shifted.

Before I could step away, he grabbed my wrist. "Noelle, don't forget the authorization you signed years ago. We can still release this statement without your signature."

My stomach dropped.

I knew exactly what he meant.

Years ago, when the press was tearing Cameron apart, I had given his management team broad permission to handle communications on my behalf. Every hour mattered, and I was terrified that even the slightest delay could cost him his career.

I was afraid the studios would drop him before he ever got a real chance, so I let his team issue statements about my work with him whenever they thought it was necessary.

I trusted Cameron enough to believe he would never use that permission against me.

Now, he was doing exactly that.

A burst of applause rose from downstairs, followed by Cameron's voice through the speakers.

"As for Ms. Noelle Gill, she's someone I'm very grateful to have worked with early in my career.

"She helped me through a lot back then. But because she cared too much about work boundaries, certain boundaries blurred, which led to some misunderstandings."

Every muscle in my body went rigid.

For a moment, I could not move.

Then a spotlight swept across the second floor and stopped directly on me. One by one, the cameras turned toward me.

The host looked up in surprise. "Oh, she's actually here tonight. Perfect. Why don't we let her clear things up herself?"

Cameron's manager immediately shoved the statement back into my hands. "Read it exactly as written," he whispered. "Don't embarrass Cameron."

I did not move.

Instead, I looked at the stage.

Cameron was already looking back at me.

I knew that expression. I had seen it countless times over the past eight years—calm, certain, almost patient.

He believed I would give in because I always had.

Whenever Cameron needed something, I found a way to give it to him. My time, money, name, and pride—piece by piece, I had given up parts of myself so he could keep moving forward without ever looking back.

He was so used to me clearing the way that it never crossed his mind I might actually step back.

Standing beneath the spotlight with his statement in my hand, I finally understood what I had become.

For years, I was like a lamp burning in the darkness, guiding Cameron when he had no one else. But now daylight had arrived. He no longer needed the light I gave him.

Worse still, he seemed to resent me simply for continuing to burn.