Chapter 83- worse

Chapter 83: Chapter 83- worse Lilian wanted to have some dignity. Really, she did. She meant to refuse the food—meant to hold her ground and not touch a single bite. But her body... betrayed her. Her stomach growled pitifully, and her spirit wasn’t much better off. In the end, she let Morrison lead her by the hand to the dining table like a docile kitten. As she sat down, her mind—traitorous as ever—flashed back to earlier that day. The way her body had bent under his, the way she’d moaned without control... It was as if her will meant nothing, and he was the one who decided when she could live—or die—from pleasure. And somehow, just remembering it made her cheeks flush red all over again. Morrison noticed, of course. He always noticed. The corner of his lips quirked upward in a lazy, knowing smirk as he ladled out a bowl of steaming soup and handed it to her. "Drink up," he said simply. Just as she reached out to take the bowl, he added with maddening calm, "It’s nourishing. You lost a lot of energy today—you need to replenish." The bowl almost slipped from her fingers. Her face turned scarlet. "Morrison!" she hissed under her breath. But he wasn’t done teasing. "Or what, don’t feel like drinking? Want me to feed it to you myself?" Her eyes widened in horror. She glared at him like he’d grown another head, then practically shoved the soup down her throat just to shut him up. No way was she letting him feed her. He had no shame. Still red-faced, she placed the bowl down and asked, "Have you seen my phone?" Without a word, Morrison reached into his pocket and pulled it out like a magician revealing a rabbit. He handed it to her with an unreadable expression. Lilian blinked. The screen was black. It had been turned off. She quickly went to power it back on, but before she could press the button, Morrison reached out and gently stopped her. "There’s something you should know first," he said casually. "Karl already told my mother you two broke up. Said it was due to ’irreconcilable values.’ Just giving you a heads up." Lilian stared at him like he’d just slapped her with a fish. "...What?" Did she hear that right? Karl had already told his mother they broke up? Her finger, poised above the power button, froze. And then slowly, slowly retreated. That warning of his? It was too ominous. She needed a second to mentally prepare herself before diving into whatever chaos waited on the other end of that phone. Morrison, amused by her obvious panic, gave a half-smile and said in a tone that sounded too cheerful to be safe, "You’re mine now. You really think I’d let you continue playing girlfriend with Karl after what we’ve done?" His smile remained—but his eyes? Cold. Sharp. Deadly. A warning, loud and clear. Lilian swallowed hard, trying to process the madness. She’d only taken a nap, and when she woke up, she’d somehow been broken up with by Karl... without even being present for it. That was... shockingly fast. Too fast. Knowing both men as she did, it was obvious what had happened. Morrison had forced Karl to tell Linda. Probably backed him into a corner and handed him the script too. Then, as if the psychological damage wasn’t enough, Morrison continued: "As for us..." he said, voice slower now, "I’ve thought about it." She tensed. "Because of that foolish little fake relationship you had with Karl, a lot of people already think you’re his girlfriend. So publicly announcing our relationship right now... wouldn’t be smart." Because let’s be real—"break up with the younger brother today, start dating the older brother tomorrow"? That was headline-level scandal. Her reputation would be shredded. Morrison’s tone was calm, logical even. But the moment he called her decision "foolish," something inside her snapped. Lilian’s eyes flared. She stared at him, small fists curling beneath the table. Foolish, huh? Well, if she’d known the older brother was going to hijack her life with such domineering arrogance, maybe she wouldn’t have made that "foolish" choice in the first place. Did he have to be so smug and condescending about her and Karl? It wasn’t like they entered that fake relationship on a whim—they thought it through, weighed the pros and cons, and made a deliberate decision. But in his eyes? It was nothing more than "foolish." Unbelievable. And besides, what was there to go public about? She and Morrison had nothing—not officially, not emotionally. He kept talking about responsibility, about marrying her, about liking her... But she hadn’t said yes to any of that. Not one word. Where did he get the idea that they were suddenly "together"? Fuming, she snapped, "There’s nothing between us. Nothing worth announcing!" Her tone was sharp, face flushed, like a girl throwing a temper tantrum. Morrison leaned in, his grin wicked and shameless. "You mean after sleeping with me, you’re just going to pretend it never happened?" "You—!" Lilian was speechless. What did he mean she was trying to back out? He made it sound like he had been the one taken advantage of, like he had lost something in the process! Morrison leaned back with a lazy elegance and declared, "Well, since you’re clearly still unsure about this relationship, we’ll keep things private for now. When you’re ready to acknowledge it—then we’ll go public." Lilian nearly slammed the table. "Hey! Did you even hear what I just said? I never agreed to be in a relationship with you!" She remembered saying no. Vividly. She had rejected his "responsibility," his "marriage," and all those absurd ideas. Morrison ignored her protests entirely. He took a sip of red wine, as if he hadn’t heard a thing, and added smoothly, "When we get back, you’ll move in with me." She shot to her feet, hands slamming against the table. "No way!" What the hell was this conversation? She was clearly objecting to being tied to him—and his response was move in with me? Unbothered, he took another bite of food and said calmly, "Then I’ll move in with you." Lilian looked like she was about to flip the entire table. Was he even listening? She might as well be talking to a brick wall. He wasn’t asking her. He was deciding. He kept forcing this relationship down her throat—but did he ever stop to think about how she felt? Her family would never accept this. Not her parents. Not her older brother. They’d never let her marry someone like Morrison—a notorious playboy with a reputation as long as a shopping list. And what if—just what if—somehow she really did fall for him? What if she ended up getting emotionally attached? Only to have her family tear it all down in the end? Wouldn’t that be even worse? If it was going to end in heartbreak... Then maybe it was better not to even start.