I Became His Sweetheart

Chapter 15 President Morgan Appears in Person

Melanie maintained a professional smile as she gazed at the judges‘ panel. One of the figures among the judges was a man named Mr. Hans. She remembered him as the father of Lena’s friend—the girl Melanie slapped at the bachelorette party. Melanie anticipated that the man might try to make things difficult for her.

Unfazed, she projected her prepared materials onto the screen. “Here’s my resume. I’ve tailored it for my participation at the International Socialites Gala,” Melanie said calmly. Slide by slide, her presentation showcased her achievements.

“| started learning the piano, arts, and music from a young age. | also learned how to dance from the age of nine and excelled in various genres, especially ballet.

“This is the certificate | received from the Royal Academy of Dance at the age of fourteen for achieving the highest level in ballet. “And these are photos from my performances in renowned ballet productions.”

Melanie presented her accomplishments confidently, but it was evident that the judges were not interested in hearing her out. After a few

sentences, a judge impatiently interrupted her. “That's enough!” “I'm not finished yet,” Melanie responded calmly.

Mr. Hans, the most influential figure on the panel, furrowed his brow and waved his hand dismissively. “Enough, please. Don’t embarrass

yourself. What's the point of showcasing your abilities when you have a disability?” “Mr. Hans is right! Who picked her? They must be making light of this event!” echoed a few judges.

“I'm currently receiving treatment for my injury. I'll likely recover in time for the ball. Besides, can’t a disabled girl pursue her dreams? My story of perseverance could be excellent publicity for Harbor City,” Melanie responded, determined to make her point.

“You're just trying to justify it!” Mr. Hans exclaimed, glaring at her impatiently. “Are you leaving on your own, or should | get you to leave?”

Seeing the tense atmosphere, the event organizer quickly intervened. “Miss Melanie, you can leave your materials here.” “Very well,” Melanie replied, pursing her lips. She had an ace up her sleeve. Why should she argue with these irrational people?

She was about to step down from the stage when a cold, stern voice echoed through the exhibition hall. “You talk big, but why don’t you

prove your abilities? Disability is no excuse. A girl with a bad leg can dance, or at the very least, showcase their grace!” The doors to the exhibition hall swung open.

Light shone upon a man sitting in a wheelchair. He had a handsome face, but his eyes were sharp and piercing. A single glance from him exuded an overwhelming aura of dominance, making one feel weak in the knees.

“President Morgan!” Jeffrey Morgan showed up in person! Several judges stood up, treating him with the utmost respect. They hurriedly offered him the center seat on the panel.

Seeing Melanie’s hesitation, Mr. Hans yelled at her in an attempt to kiss up to Stephen, “What are you waiting for? President Morgan asked

you to dance, can’t you hear? So start dancing!” “Please, go on ahead.” Stephen’s assistant, William Moore, extended a hand to encourage her.

Melanie had no chance to refuse; the music had already started. She took a deep breath and, with a strong grip on her cane, began to dance gracefully to the music.

Her grace and fluid movements, developed through years of practice, allowed her to create smooth arcs around her crutch. She was like a butterfly fluttering its delicate wings.

Melanie had a well—defined face, with especially expressive eyes. Although she wore minimal makeup, her presence on stage was

Stephen's eyes flickered. Even he could not help but admit that she was truly outstanding.

As the dance concluded, the entire room fell silent.

No one dared to speak before Jeffrey Morgan. To their surprise, Melanie broke the silence first. “What do the judges think of my performance?”

“Ahem.” Mr. Hans managed to regain his composure and exclaimed, “It was a mess! There was no grace nor beauty in that dance. Stop being an eyesore to President Morgan and get off the stage immediately!”

“You think | didn’t dance well, Mr. Hans?” Melanie inquired. “Only a blind man would think you danced well!” he retorted.

Melanie lowered her gaze and tugged at her lip. She replied, “Well, if | can get the pass from President Morgan, wouldn't that mean you're the blind one here?”

Mr. Hans was caught off guard by her taunt. He glared at her, infuriated, and yelled, “Get off the stage, now! You're out of your mind if you think you can get a pass from President Morgan!”