Chapter 142- I was wrong.

Words : 1294 Updated : Oct 5th, 2025

Chapter 142: Chapter 142- I was wrong. Lilian settled into her first-class seat. With the financial backing of Burg Eltz and her own earnings, she had more than enough to afford it. Over the past year, managing finances at Bert’s company had brought her a stable income. On top of that, her modeling career had taken off—sales had skyrocketed thanks to her campaigns, and Bert insisted she take a share of the profits, even though she initially refused. She had slowly gained recognition, appearing in other magazines and photoshoots. Just a few days ago, Tina, the editor-in-chief of S, had reached out through Laurent, inviting her to shoot a cover. Lilian had been ecstatic. Tina had called her "exceptionally elegant," and though she had doubted herself at first, she eventually agreed to shoot once her work in the U.S. calmed down. Settling into her seat, Lilian glanced up—and froze. Morrison was there. Casual clothes, a small travel bag in hand, but his eyes were fixed on her—deep, intense, almost piercing. Lilian’s heart skipped. So that was why he had been absent at the banquet—he’d been waiting here for her! How had he even found out her flight details? She bristled inwardly. She wanted to look away, pretend she didn’t know him—but that would be too obvious. After all, they had exchanged greetings at the hotel earlier. She couldn’t suddenly act cold. So she curved her lips into a faint, polite smile. "Morrison... what a coincidence. You’re on this flight to the U.S. too?" His lips twitched slightly. "Not a coincidence," he said calmly. "I’m here for you. I came deliberately." Lilian, "..." She had expected him to at least come up with some excuse—something like, Oh, what a coincidence, I happen to have business in the U.S.—but he had gone straight for the truth: he was deliberately waiting for her. Lilian couldn’t help but think: when someone has no shame, there’s really no way to deal with them. And Morrison’s audacity now was enough to make her speechless. She hadn’t expected that after running into him again, she would immediately face such shamelessness—first, having someone dig up her flight information, and now boldly sitting on the same plane, confessing he came all the way to the U.S. just to chase her. For a moment, she was dumbfounded. Then he walked over and took the seat next to hers. First-class cabins offered plenty of space—nothing like economy class, where everyone was cramped together. Each row had individual seats, separated by an aisle, so they weren’t exactly close. But just knowing he was sitting right beside her made Lilian feel tense all over. Everything about the situation—his proximity, his audacity—made her body and mind feel inexplicably awkward. No matter how awkward it was, she couldn’t just get off the plane. So she chose to ignore him. Let him do whatever he wanted. She planned to close her eyes and sleep once the flight stabilized anyway. And that’s exactly what she did. Once the plane took off, she asked the flight attendant for a blanket, wrapped herself up, shoved in her earplugs, and put on her eye mask, retreating into her own little world. But barely had she closed her eyes when someone removed her earplugs. Annoyed, she yanked off her eye mask and glared at the culprit, no longer able to maintain her earlier composure. "What do you think you’re doing?" she snapped. He glanced at her casually. "Talking," he said. Lilian scoffed. "We’re not close. I have nothing to say to you." His audacity once again shattered her patience. Calmly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he acted like they were familiar, like they were friends. Did he really think they were close? In her eyes, after the breakup, he was nothing but a stranger. "Not close?" he asked, his gaze softening slightly. "Perfect. Then let’s start getting familiar—starting now." Lilian, "..." With a swift motion, she snatched her earplugs back from him, her face impassive as she retorted, "And I have no intention of getting familiar with you." Lilian put her earplugs back in, pulled the eye mask over her eyes, and even turned her body away—making it perfectly clear she didn’t want to talk to him anymore. Morrison didn’t press the issue. After all, they still had over an hours of flight ahead. She couldn’t sleep the whole time, could she? So he opened his laptop and got some work done. The decision to follow her to the U.S. had been sudden, leaving many unfinished tasks behind. But now, after more than a year of losing track of her, he refused to let her slip away again. If he had to choose between work and her right now, there was no question—he would choose her. Money could always be earned again, but if he lost her, there was no getting her back. For the rest, he’d handle what he could and leave the unfinished tasks to Norton and sean. Speaking of Norton and sean... after the New Year, Norton had married Monna. Seeing them so happy at their wedding had stung more than he wanted to admit. He had fallen in love before Norton did, yet Norton had gotten married first. Of course, he knew he had no one to blame but himself. This time, coming after Lilian to the U.S., he didn’t plan to sweep her off her feet or force her into reconciliation. He understood that ice three feet thick didn’t thaw in a single day. His only thought now was to see her, to feel her presence—to no longer live in a world without any news of her. Whether they would reconcile or not, he would leave that to time. Even if it took three years, five, ten, or even eight, he didn’t care. He would wait. an hours later, Lilian woke up. She removed her eye mask and rubbed her eyes. Once she opened them, she noticed a piece of paper on the tray in front of her. Curious, she picked it up. Three words were written on it: I was wrong. Before she could even process it, another piece of paper was pressed into her hand. Again, three words: I love you. Each sheet of A4 paper had the same three words written in bold black ink, the strokes thick and deliberate, as if he wanted her to see them clearly, to make sure there was no mistaking his intention. Morrison had written them while she slept. After finishing some work on his laptop, he had used the remaining time to watch her sleeping face... and to write these words. Writing them felt almost childish, like he had returned to the days of a shy teenager penning love letters to the girl he adored. His heart was pounding, nerves taut, yet burning with the desire to make sure the girl he loved understood his feelings perfectly. The words were exactly the same as the messages he had once sent her—messages that Bert had later shown to Lilian. And now, he was repeating them, this time in person, with his own hand. Yes—for Morrison, these were the two most important things he wanted to say to her. They had been the same a year ago, and they were the same now. The first was a sincere apology, a confession for his foolishness in breaking up with her. The second was the truest reflection of his heart. Though countless thoughts and words crowded his mind, he knew these two mattered most. He had poured himself into them, wanting first to let her feel the depth of his remorse... and then to make her see the truth of his love.

Chapter 142- I was wrong.

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