CHAPTER 116: CHAPTER 116- IN TROUBLE

Lilian had been smiling, her hand looped through Morrison’s arm, her eyes glowing with warmth.

But the moment his words landed, that smile froze—sweetness turning to disbelief.

Her mind replayed his sentence again, and piece by piece, her smile shattered.

Along with it, the color drained from her face.

Her hand slipped from his arm, and she instinctively stepped back, biting down hard on her lip.

In the span of a single breath, her heart plunged from heaven to hell.

One second ago, she had been looking forward to celebrating his birthday.

The next, she was being abandoned.

She was grateful, in a strange way, for the lessons her mother had drilled into her since childhood: No matter how bad it gets, don’t cry, don’t scream, don’t lose control.

If it’s already bad, tears will only make people look down on you.

They’ll strip away whatever dignity you have left.

So even as her eyes brimmed with tears, she forced them back.

She straightened her posture, curved her lips into the faintest smile, and said—

"Alright."

No crying.

No begging.

No clinging.

Morrison blinked, startled. She even gave him a bright smile.

"Even though we’ve broken up, I still want to thank you. Thank you for teaching me so much—

for showing me how to love, for letting me taste the sweetness of romance... and its bitterness, too."

Before he could respond, she gave him another small smile.

"Sorry. I have something to do. I’ll head out first."

Then she lifted her skirt, turned, and left.

Leaving him alone in the warm, romantic apartment she had prepared for his birthday.

Outside, she didn’t stop once.

Bert had designed the white tulle gown she wore—its hem long and elegant—but now she was half-running, half-stumbling out of the building.

She had held herself together in front of Morrison.

But the moment she stepped outside, the tears broke free, flooding her eyes until she could barely see. She wiped them away and kept running.

This was her home.

But the one leaving... was her.

If she stayed, she feared she’d break down right in front of him—and she refused to let that happen.

She would never use tears to make someone stay.

The moment he said break up, she had never once thought about asking him to change his mind.

She had never hoped for love or marriage before. He had given her the courage to try—and then delivered the cruelest blow.

And so, she ran.

Her vision blurred, her steps uneven. She didn’t even notice the small dip in the pavement outside the building. Her ankle twisted, and she fell hard to the ground.

For a moment, she didn’t even have the strength to get up. The act she had put on for Morrison had drained every last drop of energy from her. She just sat there, head lowered, and cried.

It was still light out, summer dusk lingering.

From a nearby car, Bert looked up—and froze.

He saw her fall, saw the tears streaming down her face.

In an instant, he was out of the car and at her side.

"What happened?"

He crouched, helping her to her feet.

Lilian glanced at him through tear-filled eyes... then turned, pulling away, trying to walk off.

But Bert wasn’t about to let her wander alone like this. He blocked her path, guiding her toward his car. She was too drained to resist, and let him settle her into the seat.

Once inside, Bert handed her a tissue.

"Did you two... fight?"

In truth, the sight of her in that pure white gown—crying like this—had already told him the answer.

He just didn’t want to say the words.

Lilian shook her head. "No... we didn’t fight."

Her voice was calmer now. She held the tissue to her face, let out a long sigh, and whispered—

"It’s a breakup."

Bert’s fists clenched. Veins bulged along the backs of his hands. For a moment, he was ready to storm back and find Morrison right then.

But one look at her pale, fragile state stopped him.

Grinding his teeth, he started the car. "I’ll take you to my place first. You need to rest."

Lilian didn’t reply.

Bert’s chest ached. Without her consent, he drove off anyway.

Halfway down the road, he pulled out his phone and called Dave. His voice was sharp, cold.

"Lilian’s in trouble. Get back here. Now."

Dave’s voice on the other end was tense. "What happened?"

"Ask Morrison yourself."

Bert ended the call without another word.

Later that night, past midnight.

Dave drove back from A.T. without stopping.

He found Morrison in a bar.

Without a word, he walked up—and punched him, hard.

Morrison, half-drunk, didn’t even try to dodge.

Dave’s fists were merciless, each blow fueled by rage.

Bert’s earlier words had been enough: Lilian’s in trouble. Ask Morrison.

Dave had known instantly what it meant. He hadn’t wanted to believe it.

Hadn’t wanted to believe that his closest brother had hurt his most cherished sister.

But Morrison’s own voice, over the phone, had confirmed it—calm, almost careless.

"I dated her. Slept with her. And now I dumped her."

"MORRISON!"

Dave’s roar could have brought the ceiling down.

Laurent, startled by the noise, stepped out to see him—eyes bloodshot, veins bulging on his forehead, every inch of him radiating fury.

Laurent rushed over, placing a steadying hand on his arm. "Dave, sit down. Calm yourself first."

He guided him to the couch, speaking softly. "What happened?"

Dave threw his phone aside, buried both hands in his hair, his expression a mix of pain and guilt.

"Lilian and Morrison—"

The words stuck in his throat. He couldn’t force them out. Just the thought of Lilian being dumped... of her getting hurt... made his chest ache unbearably.

Laurent’s eyes flickered with understanding. Shock hit first, then the pieces fell into place.

He remembered—back when Dave had been stabbed by Clark and rushed into surgery—Lilian had arrived at the hospital with Morrison. She’d been surprised to see them together, but too worried about Dave to think much of it. She had assumed it was a coincidence.

Looking back now... it hadn’t been a coincidence at all. They had been together then.

And now... she had been hurt by him.

Laurent’s chest tightened. Lilian was a good girl—too good to have crossed paths with someone like Morrison, a notorious playboy. There could only be one ending.

"I’m going back. Right now!" Dave’s voice was sharp with resolve.

Laurent nodded in agreement. "I’ll come with you. Lilian might open up to me more easily. I can help comfort her."

Dave hesitated. He knew she was close to Laurent. But glancing at the time, his brows furrowed with concern. "It’s late. You don’t have to run around like this—it’ll wear you out."

Laurent shook his head firmly. "This isn’t about being tired. With the state you’re in, I’m not letting you drive back alone."

Laurent was firm. Right now, Dave was a living firestorm. If he drove back himself, there was no way he wouldn’t floor the accelerator the entire way. How could she—how could anyone—feel safe with that?

Dave didn’t argue. The three of them quickly packed their things. Even their daughter, Emma, who had already taken a bath and was getting ready for bed, had to climb out of bed to change.

Laurent made a quick call to Jacob to request a few days off for Emma to go back to Burg Eltz.

Jacob’s voice, laced with confusion, asked, "In the middle of the night? You’re driving all the way back? Did something happen?"

Laurent glanced at Dave, whose face was still dark with tension, and chose to withhold the truth for now. "When we get back, Dave can fill you in properly." He hung up.

The three of them set off immediately. Laurent took the wheel; Dave had no objections. Emma fell asleep in her car seat almost instantly. Laurent’s focus was on the road, but Dave’s mind was elsewhere, replaying the scenes in his memory—the ones that had seemed ordinary at the time, but now felt loaded with hidden meaning.

The first time was at Morrison’s place, seeing Lilian’s watch. Morrison had brushed it off, claiming Dave had seen it wrong. Dave, exhausted and distracted back then, had believed him.

Then there was Morrison insisting Lilian intern at MOS Corp... and so many other little things that, in retrospect, were never just coincidences.

It seemed that ever since Lilian had almost graduated last year, they had been together. A full year of relationship. If it had only been a brief fling, Dave wouldn’t be this furious.

But a year...

The thought made his blood boil even more. A year of feelings, no matter how mild at the start, had deepened. And judging by Bert’s icy tone earlier, Lilian had been hurt badly.

Bert, despite his past quirks and occasional tension with Dave, had genuine care for Lilian. That much Dave could feel himself. If Bert was that enraged, Lilian’s situation had to be serious.

Dave reached for a cigarette in frustration, but seeing Laurent at the wheel and Emma sleeping peacefully beside him, he put it back down. He couldn’t afford a single lapse.