I Cared For Him Blind For Three Years, Then He Married Another When His Sight Returned

1 Kyle Norvell was the golden heir of the billionaire elite. But at the absolute height of his youth, tragedy struck.

His father and brother were killed in a devastating car crash, leaving the family fortune in the hands of greedy relatives.

To make matters worse, a racing accident shortly after cost him his sight, plunging him into darkness.

For three years, I disguised myself as his childhood sweetheart, Isabella, serving as his private caregiver and nursing him with utmost devotion.

Finally, he was only one surgery away from reclaiming his sight.

But on the night before our flight to Switzerland, Kyle threw my suitcase out of the penthouse window, his voice laced with freezing, mocking contempt. "Did you honestly think a cheap impostor like you, a golddigging parasite, had the right to stand by my side?" I spent the next three years in a state of quiet depression before finally pulling myself together to work at a private clinic.

But today, the director informed me that Kyle had just bought the entire hospital. … The first time I met Kyle, I had no idea he was my assigned patient.

The massive floortoceiling windows of the penthouse were bathed in the golden glow of a late autumn sunset.

He stood with his back to me, wearing a perfectly tailored charcoal suit that seemed to catch the dying light.

When he turned around, his sharp, aristocratic features and athletic frame bore the unmistakable signs of a man accustomed to luxury and rigorous discipline.

He carried himself with an effortless, oldmoney grace that could easily make any young girl lose her mind. Everything about him was flawless, yet something felt slightly off.

My gaze drifted down to his hand, which was casually resting on a black Chrome Hearts cane. It wasn't a fashion accessory. Kyle was entirely blind.

His mother, Victoria, had gone to immense lengths to find me.

I was a toptier nursing graduate who happened to share a ninetypercent match with Isabella in terms of height, voice, and facial bone structure.

I was the perfect double. "Have you made up your decision?" Victoria asked.

The massive pigeonblood ruby at her throat glowed brilliantly, though it couldn't hide the deep exhaustion etched into her face. "I am hiring you to be Kyle's private nurse, and his fiancée.

You will perform every single duty expected of a future wife." "I understand, Mrs.

Norvell," I replied quietly. "I will do it, as long as the compensation is sufficient." "Very well. You are a sensible girl.

My assistant will wire the advance to your account immediately." She paused, her eyes narrowing. "There are three rules. If you expose your true identity, you leave immediately.

You must do everything in your power to help him recover.

And most importantly, you must keep him happy." "Yes, ma'am." After leaving the Norvell estate, the final portion of my payment was wired to my account.

With both money and time finally on my side, I could finally afford the best medical care for my sick mother.

I had been carrying the burden of her illness since high school, and though I thought I was used to the stress, my body began to protest.

Insomnia became my nightly companion, and my mind was constantly flooded with memories of Kyle.

In an attempt to quiet my thoughts, I took up calligraphy, but my notebook quickly became filled with his name, written over and over again.

My mother eventually noticed my distress and practically forced me to see a doctor.

The therapist told me my heart was bruised, and that I needed to force myself back into the world.

Madelyn, a senior colleague who was two years ahead of me in university, worked as the deputy director at an exclusive, highend convalescent home.

Knowing I was unemployed, she warmly invited me to join her staff.

The facility was fully licensed, equipped with stateoftheart medical technology, and situated in a quiet, wealthy suburb. It was the perfect place to heal.

The work demanded absolute professionalism and patience, leaving very little room for worldly distractions.

I genuinely believed that in this quiet sanctuary, I could finally put the memory of Kyle behind me.

Until one quiet morning, when I opened my phone to find the news dominated by a single headline: Kyle Norvell Takes Over Norvell Group, Announces Engagement to Heiress Isabella.

He was back. For three years, I had searched for any scrap of news about him, but he had seemingly vanished from the face of the earth.

I had no idea if his surgery in Switzerland had been successful, or how he was coping. He had cut off any possible way for me to reach him.

The media outlets were having a field day, describing Kyle and Isabella as a match made in heaven, a devoted couple who had stayed by each other's side through the darkest of times.

I stared at the photographs of them.

They truly looked beautiful together, a perfect portrait of highsociety royalty. "Did you honestly think a cheap impostor like you, a golddigging parasite, had the right to stand by my side?" Kyle's cruel, mocking voice echoed in my mind, making my chest ache. "Director Giselle!

Emergency in the VIP suite! The elder Mr. Norvell has collapsed!" The frantic voice of a young nurse over the radio shattered my thoughts.

I sprinted toward the VIP wing immediately. The patient was over ninety years old, suffering from advanced dementia and a fragile heart.

A collapse at his age was incredibly dangerous. "Start CPR!" I ordered, rushing into the room. "Connect the AED!" We worked feverishly until the heart monitor finally stabilized into a steady, reassuring rhythm.

I leaned down, speaking softly near his ear. "Sir, can you hear my voice?" His eyes fluttered open, and he offered a weak, whispered response.

Only then did the tension leave my shoulders. We had acted just in time.

Once the elderly gentleman drifted into a peaceful sleep, I gave the nursing staff detailed instructions and turned to go back to my office to change my clothes.

But as I pulled off my medical coat and turned toward the door, a tall, imposing figure stepped into the room. Kyle. My breath caught in my throat.

I forced myself to stay calm, my mind racing. What was he doing here? The elder Mr. Norvell shared his last name, so perhaps he was a relative.

Fortunately, Kyle had been blind when we were together. He had no idea what I looked like. As long as I treated him like any other patient's family member, I would be safe.

I took a slow, deliberate step toward the exit, my eyes fixed on the floor to avoid any eye contact that might give me away.

But just as our shoulders brushed, his deep, familiar voice echoed through the quiet room. "Thank you, Giselle." He paused, a subtle, dangerous edge in his tone. "Or should I say, Director Giselle?" "Director Giselle, is there something on my face?" Kyle noticed my stunned silence, a look of mild amusement playing on his lips. "No... nothing at all, Mr.

Norvell," I stammered, my voice barely a whisper. "You just have very beautiful eyes." I knew that if I stayed a second longer, my tears would betray me.

I offered a quick, formal nod and practically fled the room. That night, my longlost insomnia returned with a vengeance. I remembered the very first time I had held Kyle's hand.

I had felt the thick, jagged scar on his wrist, and his entire body had stiffened under my touch.

He hated showing his vulnerability, so from that day on, I avoided his wrist entirely, sliding my hand down to lock our fingers together instead.

I was young back then, completely inexperienced in love, but I gave him everything I had.

I helped him through his physical therapy, managed his meals, and kept him company during long walks.

One evening, as I was tucking him into bed, he suddenly caught my hand. "What is your name?" he had asked softly.

The name "Giselle" almost slipped past my lips, but my professional training kicked in just in time. "What are you talking about, Kyle? It's me, Isabella.

Your fiancée." Kyle's smile had widened. "Right. But Isabella, what do your friends call you?" "Elle," I lied.

My family always called me Elle, and since it sounded so similar to Isabella's nickname, Belle, I knew I would easily react to it. "Elle," Kyle murmured, his eyes searching the darkness. "Don't worry about the scar on my wrist.

It's not a sign of weakness. It's my badge of honor from fighting off the wolves." I had wondered how a blind man could perceive my silent anxiety so accurately.

It was only much later that I learned the truth. Before losing his sight, Kyle had survived multiple attempts on his life.

That scar was the result of a failed attempt to stage his suicide while he was unconscious.

In the days that followed, I treated him normally, but when I tried to support him by his wrist again, he gently pushed my hand down, locking his fingers with mine in a warm, breathless grip.

The next morning, Madelyn called me into her office to inform me that the elder Mr.

Norvell was being discharged to recover at his private estate, and he had personally requested me as his exclusive caregiver.

Madelyn looked incredibly apologetic. "Giselle, I hired you to be our director of nursing, so normally I would have declined this request immediately." "But you know who Kyle Norvell is, right?

He is the CEO of the Norvell Group. His grandfather is our VIP patient, and their conglomerate just became our primary shareholder.

We desperately need their funding to survive the winter. I am in a very tight spot here..." Kyle's name felt like a physical blow.

Why was he demanding my presence? "I suppose your exceptional performance during the emergency yesterday caught his attention," Madelyn sighed. "His family noticed how skilled you are." "I understand, Madelyn," I said, offering her a reassuring smile. "I'll take the job.

Don't worry about it." Madelyn was the one who had pulled me out of my dark depression, and I couldn't abandon her now. That very afternoon, a luxury vehicle arrived to pick me up.

I had expected a private chauffeur, but when the door of the RollsRoyce Cullinan opened, Kyle was sitting in the back seat.

The spacious interior felt suffocatingly small as we rode in silence. "How long have you been working at the clinic, Director Giselle?" Kyle finally broke the quiet. "About six months, Mr.

Norvell. You can just call me Giselle." "And where did you work before that?" "I was an intern at the general hospital downtown." "Which department?" "Neurology." "Ah.

I know the head of neurology there, Dr. Reynolds. We met at a medical investment summit. How is he doing?

Still busy?" "Yes, very busy," I lied, keeping my answers as brief as possible.

Kyle turned his bright, newly restored eyes toward me, his gaze incredibly focused. "I have a question, Giselle." "When we first met yesterday, how did you know my last was Norvell?" I froze, my mind scrambling for a plausible excuse. "I...

I read the patient's family file before entering the room." Before he could press further, his phone rang, saving me from another interrogation. "Belle," Kyle answered, his voice instantly dropping into a low, affectionate register. "Grandfather is returning home today, so I have to manage the arrangements.

Yes, I have a meeting at ten, so don't wait up for me." Hearing his gentle tone brought back a flood of memories. He had once spoken to me with that exact same tenderness.

But of course, it had all been for the character I was playing. The real Isabella belonged to a powerful family that had been allied with the Norvells for generations.

She had been busy with her studies abroad, which was why Victoria had needed an identical substitute to keep Kyle stable during his darkest hours.

The car pulled into the private garage of a massive waterfront estate. This was a exclusive luxury villa by the bay, not the old Norvell manor where I had previously worked.

Since this was his grandfather's retirement home, I assumed Kyle wouldn't visit often. Due to his advanced dementia, the elderly Mr.

Norvell rarely spoke, though he occasionally surprised me with sudden bursts of clarity.

In his mind, he was still a young, powerful tycoon, and he would frequently order me around as if I were his executive assistant.

It took him nearly a month to remember my name, and he eventually settled on treating me like his personal secretary.

Kyle visited only a handful of times, always in a rush, leaving quickly to attend various corporate events.

Lately, the Norvell Group's acquisition of a major tech firm had been dominating the financial news, with rumors suggesting Isabella's family had played a significant role in securing the deal.

Kyle was ascending to new heights, his position as CEO more secure than ever. His ambition and dreams were finally becoming reality.

He had returned to his place as the darling of the elite, the trauma of his temporary blindness leaving no visible mark on him. If anything, the trial had only made him stronger.

One afternoon, I was staring at the news on my phone when I heard footsteps behind me. "What has captured your attention so completely, Giselle?" I quickly locked my screen, turning to find Kyle standing right in front of me. "Nothing, Mr.

Norvell.

I was just about to retrieve your grandfather's medication." He didn't budge, blocking my path. "I've noticed that you always seem to be avoiding me, Giselle." "You're mistaken, sir.

Managing your grandfather's care keeps me quite busy." Kyle didn't press the matter.

He turned to greet a distinguishedlooking gentleman who had just entered the villa, and the two of them walked into the grandfather's study. A few minutes later, the elder Mr.

Norvell called out, "Giselle, bring some refreshments for our guests, please." I sliced some fresh melon and prepared a pot of robust black tea for the grandfather.

Knowing Kyle never drank black tea, I automatically prepared a separate cup of delicate silver needle white tea for him. Habit has a dangerous way of exposing the truth.

When I brought the tray into the study, I placed the fruit forks down, but out of sheer muscle memory, I picked up one fork and placed it directly into Kyle's open palm.

It was a small, intimate gesture we had repeated thousands of times during his blindness. The three men in the room went dead silent.

Kyle stared at the cup of white tea, then looked down at the fork in his hand, his eyes darkening. "Thank you, Giselle.

But as you can see, I can feed myself now." After the guest departed, I finished my shift, grabbed a cold can of beer, and walked out onto the terrace to feel the evening breeze.

Alcohol was a wonderful escape. The very first time I had ever tasted alcohol was when Kyle handed me a glass of champagne.

It had been his first public appearance at a highsociety gala after losing his sight. The crowd had been cruel, eager to watch a fallen king struggle.

People who had once begged for his attention were whispering mocking comments just loud enough for him to hear.

Ignoring the judgmental glares of the crowd, I had grabbed his hand and led him out of the suffocating ballroom, pulling him onto a quiet, spacious terrace.

The moon had been brilliant that night, casting a silver glow over the deep blue sky. The faint sound of violins from the ballroom drifted up to us like a quiet lullaby.

I had taken his hands and pulled him into a slow, gentle dance. I knew I was overstepping my boundaries, but in that moment, my only desire was to comfort his aching heart.

When the music faded, Kyle had held me close, whispering against my ear, "Tell me what you look like tonight, Elle." I had looked down at my outfit.

Knowing I was representing his fiancée, I had spent a significant portion of my savings on a beautiful dress and styled my hair. "A black velvet dress with a folded bow at the collar," I murmured. "My hair is in soft curls, and I'm wearing black patent leather heels." "You must be exceptionally beautiful tonight." "I am always beautiful, Kyle." I had buried my face in his chest, laughing softly. "I believe you," he had whispered, his hand gently tracing my cheek. "Elle, you have no idea how desperately I wish I could see you right now." A sudden gust of cold wind pulled me back to the present.

I took a sip of my beer, whispering to the empty terrace, "But now you can see, Kyle, and yet you still don't see me." The clouds above were heavy with rain.

As the first drop hit my face, I turned to go inside, only to find Kyle standing right behind me. In most situations, I was quick on my feet.

But when it came to Kyle, my only instinct was to run. Before I could take a step, his hand clamped around my wrist. "Do you have a moment to talk, Giselle?" "I'm sorry, Mr.

Norvell, but my shift ended ten minutes ago." "My grandfather's symptoms have been fluctuating lately," he said, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. "I am deeply concerned." I relented, and we sat down together on the terrace lounge. "You were the director of nursing at the clinic," Kyle began, his tone conversational. "With your credentials, why would you choose to humble yourself as a private caregiver for an old man?" "All nursing care is valuable, regardless of the patient's status.

I simply follow my employer's assignments." I had no intention of telling him about Madelyn's financial struggles. "Is that the only reason?" "Of course not," I said, forcing a mercenary smile. "Your family offered me three times my usual salary.

I really need the money." Kyle seemed to accept this answer, a cold, mocking smile playing on his lips. "You really do love money, don't you?

Is it truly that important to you?" I thought of my mother, who had been confined to a hospital bed for over a decade, and nodded slowly. "Yes.

It is incredibly important." "Important enough to turn you into a liar?" "What do you mean?" "You claimed you worked under Dr.

Reynolds," Kyle said, his voice dropping an octave. "But when he visited today, he had absolutely no idea who you were." My heart hammered against my ribs.

I had interned at the hospital while Dr. Reynolds was completing his residency abroad, so we had never actually met. "Mr. Norvell, I was assigned to this job by the clinic.

If you are unsatisfied with my performance, you can easily request a replacement." "Still refusing to answer?

Still trying to run away?" Kyle’s voice turned dangerously sharp, full of suppressed rage. "Elle... or should I say, Giselle? Money really is magic, isn't it?

It can buy your loyalty, it can make you play with a blind man's heart, and it can make you disappear without a trace." "I...

I don't know what you're talking about." "Stop playing dumb!" Kyle’s fingers dug into my shoulders, locking me in place. "You know my tea preferences, you put the fork in my hand without a single thought, and you handle my habits perfectly.

Where have you been these past three years?" "You might have nursed plenty of disabled patients, Giselle, but you clearly don't understand them." "When a person loses their sight, their hearing becomes incredibly sensitive.

From the very first word you spoke to me at the clinic, I knew exactly who you were." The revelation shattered my composure.

The tears I had been holding back spilled over, hot and uncontrollable.

He had known all along. "Why are you looking at me like that?" I cried, my voice cracking. "You were the one who threw my things out and told me to leave!

Why are you acting like I abandoned you?" I wanted to ask him so many things, but the words died in my throat.

From the very beginning, our relationship had been built on a transaction. We belonged to two completely different worlds.

I took a deep, trembling breath, forcing my features into a mask of cold indifference. "What do you want me to say, Kyle?

Yes, I left you because the money ran out, and I'm here now because the money is good. It's exactly what you thought.

I am exactly that kind of person." "Is money truly the only thing that matters to you?" Kyle’s grip loosened, his eyes filled with disbelief and a deep, agonizing pain. "Was everything we did during those three years just a job?

Did you ever feel even a single shred of genuine affection for me?" The dim terrace lights cast long shadows over his face as the rain began to fall, catching on his eyelashes.

He looked so vulnerable, so broken, that I almost broke my own rules to comfort him. "No," I lied, using every ounce of my remaining strength to sound cold. "Never." "I have to go, Mr.

Norvell." The downpour commenced in earnest. Kyle stood alone in the rain, making no move to stop me, and making no move to go inside.