CHAPTER 82: CHAPTER 82- WHY ARE YOU STILL MAD

Resigned to his fate, Karl took the phone and dialed Linda under Morrison’s watchful eye.

"Speaker," Morrison ordered flatly.

Of course. Why not make it more humiliating?

Karl obediently complied. Soon, Linda’s cheerful voice rang through the line.

"Sweetheart! How’s everything? Having fun out there with Lilian?"

She got straight to the point, clearly still excited about the idea of her precious son and his perfect future daughter-in-law vacationing together.

Karl felt a cold sweat forming on his brow. Morrison was sitting right next to him, face already darkening like a brewing thunderstorm.

He inhaled sharply, bracing himself. Think of the research funding, he told himself. Think of your poor little lab rats.

"Mom... Lilian and I broke up."

Silence.

Then came Linda’s gasp of pure horror.

"What? What happened?! Did you make her angry again?"

"No, no, nothing like that!" Karl rushed to clarify, brain scrambling for a halfway believable excuse.

Thankfully, Morrison reached over to grab a sticky note, scribbled a few words on it, and shoved it into Karl’s line of sight.

"Irreconcilable differences. Peaceful breakup."

Gee, thanks. Now he had to compose a breakup monologue like he was in a reality show reunion.

"We didn’t fight or anything," Karl said quickly. "We came out here for a trip and realized... well, our values, worldviews, and opinions on a lot of things just didn’t match up. You know, trying to force something that clearly doesn’t work... it’s painful. So we decided to end things on peaceful terms."

When he finally finished, Karl let out a long breath.

But honestly, it felt less like a breakup and more like a grammar test. He’d just made a complete sentence out of two words Morrison gave him.

And what pissed him off even more?

His brother had clearly thought of this excuse beforehand. Why make him suffer if the script was already written?

The man was cruel—plain and simple.

Unsurprisingly, Linda exploded on the other end.

"You must’ve upset her, didn’t you?! There’s no way Lilian would’ve wanted to break up if you hadn’t done something. I told you not to mess this up!"

"I didn’t—really, it wasn’t—"

Karl’s pitiful explanations went unheard as Linda unleashed a torrent of scolding. In her mind, Karl was the guilty party, and poor Lilian had just been wronged by her dumb, insensitive son.

Beside him, Morrison didn’t say a word. But his cold stare felt like a blade to the throat.

Karl was trapped—chewed out by Linda on one side, silently threatened by Morrison on the other.

He wanted to scream. This is all your fault, you idiot. Why did you even come up with the fake dating idea in the first place?

Oh right—because who would’ve thought Morrison of all people would fall for his fake girlfriend?

And just when Karl thought the storm might be passing, Linda dropped a bomb.

"Forget it! I’ll talk to Lilian myself!"

Then she hung up, fuming.

Apparently, she wasn’t ready to give up on having Lilian as her daughter-in-law. She was going to fight for it herself.

Karl let out another long sigh and tossed his phone aside.

"Well," he muttered, looking at Morrison. "I did my part. Whatever happens with Lilian next has nothing to do with me."

Knowing Linda, she wouldn’t stop there. And if she got Tiffany involved—Lilian’s mother—things would get even messier. Tiffany had liked Karl, too. This was going to be a disaster.

But Morrison didn’t say a word.

He simply got up and left the room, expression dark and unreadable.

Karl blinked.

"What the hell? I did everything you asked—why are you still mad?"

He didn’t get it.

What Karl didn’t know was that Morrison wasn’t mad at him anymore. He was mad at Linda.

If she’d been so set on making Lilian a part of the Mo family...

Why hadn’t she ever thought of introducing her to him, her eldest son?

Lilian had just finished packing her things and was ready to leave. She slung her small travel bag over her shoulder and walked to the door—only to realize something was missing.

Her phone.

Frowning, she looked around the room. She hadn’t gone anywhere all day—her entire range of movement was basically this room... more precisely, that bed. So the phone had to be here somewhere.

She was just about to search again when the door suddenly opened from the outside.

Morrison stepped in, dressed casually in a white T-shirt and black lounge pants, exuding that effortless kind of dominance that made the air feel heavy the second he entered.

Lilian froze, immediately taking a small step back.

She didn’t know why, but ever since they’d crossed that line physically, she had a hard time facing him. Maybe because the girl she’d become in bed—moaning under his touch, gasping his name—felt like a stranger to her.

She didn’t want to admit that girl was her. But deep down, she knew. It was her. The her that melted under his hands, that surrendered so easily to the pleasures he brought her.

Maybe this shyness was just the aftershock of becoming a woman for the first time.

Morrison noticed the way she avoided his eyes. His lips curled faintly as he closed the distance between them, pressing her lightly against the wall.

"Where are you going?"

His voice was low, almost lazy—but the heat beneath it was unmistakable.

Lilian gathered her courage and looked up at him.

"I need to go back to my room..."

"I canceled it."

That caught her completely off guard.

"What?" she exclaimed, blinking. "Why would you do that? Where am I supposed to sleep tonight?"

Morrison’s hand reached up to cup her cheek, his body leaning in close.

"Here, of course. We’ve already shared a bed—why pretend we need two?"

He didn’t give her time to argue.

His lips came down on hers with unrelenting force, his hand tilting her chin so she had no choice but to accept the kiss. There was nothing tentative about it—it was all heat and pressure, like he was claiming her all over again.

"Y-You—mmph—wait—"

Whatever protest she tried to voice was swallowed whole by his deepening kiss.

His fingers found the hem of her clothes, tugging carelessly, undoing everything she’d just straightened. This man had no sense of shame—none. And his logic? Absolute nonsense.

What kind of reasoning was "we’ve already slept together, so you’re staying with me"?

That was basically cohabitation, wasn’t it?

Finally, when he’d had his fill of her lips—though not her body, judging by the hand still resting snug on her waist—Morrison leaned back just enough to murmur,

"I had the chef make something. Come eat."

Food?

That snapped her attention back.

Now that he mentioned it, Lilian realized she was starving. She hadn’t eaten at all that day, and it was already evening. Not to mention... her physical exertion had been, uh, considerable.

Her stomach growled on cue.

"Aren’t we going to join Karl and the others for dinner?" she asked, still breathless.

She had no idea she’d already been "dumped." Still thinking of herself as Karl’s girlfriend, she was trying to be considerate—worried it might seem rude to his friends that she hadn’t shown up all day.

But just as the question left her lips, there was a knock at the door.

Her heart jumped.

If that was Karl—

Panicked, she spun around and bolted into the bedroom, disappearing behind the door like a guilty mistress.

Morrison, completely unfazed, went to answer it.

It was just hotel staff, delivering dinner on a wheeled cart.

Inside the bedroom, Lilian could already smell the food—rich, fragrant, mouthwatering. Her stomach clenched even harder. She hadn’t realized how ravenous she was.

Outside, Morrison calmly laid out the dishes at the dining table. He’d asked the kitchen for specially tailored meals—light but nourishing, with a focus on replenishing a woman’s energy.

After all, she’d burned quite a bit of it today.

And she was going to need more tomorrow.