CHAPTER 96: CHAPTER 96- ACCEPT

"Didn’t you say last night you’d do whatever I told you to? Now you’re going back on your word?"

Morrison’s voice was low and deliberately teasing, repeating her own words from the night before like a weapon.

Lilian was momentarily speechless.

After a long pause, she huffed in protest.

"You forced me to say that! It doesn’t count!"

If he could be shameless, she could be unreasonable. That was only fair.

Morrison let out a quiet laugh, clearly amused by her attempt to wriggle out.

"Well, aren’t you gutsy, Lilian," he said, feigning offense. Then added, with a smirk tugging at his lips,

"Besides, this morning wasn’t my fault. You were the one who jumped into my arms."

Lilian choked, her cheeks flushing crimson.

She opened her mouth to argue again, but he didn’t give her the chance.

"All right, all right," Morrison relented, chuckling. "No more messing with you in the morning. I got it."

He knew she was proud. Since starting at the company, Lilian had never once relied on her connection with him—not even when it could’ve made her life easier.

Being late, especially repeatedly, would draw attention—and she hated that.

If he really pushed her too far and she ran back to Tiffany’s place, the one who’d suffer would be him.

So he chose peace. Morning peace.

But evenings? That was a whole different matter.

Just as they were about to reach the company parking entrance, Lilian’s phone buzzed.

She glanced down—Bert.

After a moment’s hesitation, she picked up, her voice neutral and polite.

"Hello? Bert?"

"What’s the matter?"

Her tone was distant, a little stiff. She wasn’t particularly close to Bert, and had no idea what he wanted from her.

Next to her, Morrison’s hands tensed on the steering wheel the moment he heard the name.

His jaw clenched ever so slightly, and though he kept his eyes on the road, he was unmistakably listening.

Trying to catch every single word Bert said.

In Morrison’s eyes, Bert was nothing but a sleazy, manipulative lowlife. So of course, the moment he heard Bert’s name, his mood soured.

Over the phone, Bert’s voice came through, casual and smooth.

"Did you make it to the office yet?"

Lilian bit her lip, glancing guiltily at Morrison.

"Not yet... Something came up, I’m running a little late."

Bert chuckled warmly.

"Being late’s not a crime. No need to sound so guilty."

His tone was light, indulgent, like he was talking to someone under his wing. He had misunderstood, assuming her fluster was over being tardy.

In Bert’s mind, if Lilian worked for him, she could show up late every day and he wouldn’t care.

Lilian didn’t even know how to respond to that, so she just forced a little smile and stayed quiet.

Then Bert continued, "Once you get to your desk, check your inbox. I sent something over."

"Oh... okay," she murmured, not sure what he meant, but she nodded anyway.

She thought that would be the end of it. But then Bert added gently,

"How have you been lately?"

The way he asked it—soft and sincere—wasn’t just polite small talk. He actually seemed to care.

Lilian smiled faintly.

"Pretty good..."

That was a lie. She’d been anything but good—confused, stressed, emotionally tangled in a mess with Morrison—but she wasn’t going to spill any of that to someone she’d only met twice.

Bert seemed to sense her guarded tone. He didn’t press further, just reminded her again to check the email, then hung up.

The moment the call ended, Morrison shot her a look.

"What did he want?"

Lilian kept her gaze on her phone.

"I’m not exactly sure. He said he emailed me something."

Morrison let out a dry snort.

"Let me guess. A virus?"

He sounded half-joking, half-dead serious. His loathing for Bert was obvious.

Curious, Lilian opened her email right then and there in the car. A few moments passed. Then—

"Oh my God," she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

"These are stunning! I love them!"

Morrison’s frown deepened.

"What is it?"

Lilian turned her phone around, practically bouncing in her seat.

"Remember the email Bert mentioned? It’s filled with clothing sketches! He wrote that they were custom designs, made just for me! And he told me to pick the ones I like!"

What woman wouldn’t be excited by that?

Especially when the designs were all gorgeous—and tailored with her in mind.

Morrison’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.

Lilian could barely hold back a squeal. Sure, she’d grown up surrounded by pretty clothes. Designer brands were no stranger to her closet. But this—this was different.

These weren’t mass-produced luxury pieces.

These were hers.

Custom-designed.

Just. For. Her.

Her heart fluttered as she scrolled through the sketches again and again, completely captivated. The thought that every curve, every detail of the dresses was tailored to her made her giddy.

"They’re all so pretty," she murmured to herself. "How am I supposed to pick just one?"

She was so caught up in the fantasy, she completely forgot about the man sitting next to her—whose mood was growing darker by the second.

Morrison gripped the steering wheel, his jaw tight. His blood boiled.

He wasn’t just mad at Bert—he was furious at the clueless little girl next to him too.

Did Bert have that much free time on his hands? Was running Washington Co. not enough? He still had the energy to sketch fashion designs just to win over Lilian?

And her reaction? Was she seriously acting like she’d never worn a decent dress before? Just a few pretty pictures and she was over the moon?

Could she not see the obvious? That Bert might just be setting her up to fall into a trap?

Morrison’s voice was cold as ice.

"So you’re planning to accept those designs from Bert? Shouldn’t you run that by your brother first? Or maybe your parents?"

Lilian didn’t even look up.

"No need. He made tons of dresses for Emma last time, and my brother didn’t say a thing. Why would this be different?"

Morrison: "..."

A critical hit.

He felt like he’d just taken a bullet to the chest.

Before he could even recover, Lilian gasped again.

"Wait—there’s more! He even attached bag designs!"

At this point, Bert might as well have designed an entire runway lineup just for her.

Lilian was absolutely glowing. She hadn’t expected Bert to be so thoughtful. His gesture, small as it was, made her feel seen—and it made her warm up to him, just a little.

Morrison felt like he was about to explode.

How could she trust Bert so easily? Had she completely forgotten what that man used to be like?

Back when it was Tiffany or Emma getting entangled with Bert, Morrison had been annoyed, sure—but not devastated.

But now?

Now it was her.

If Bert ever dared pull anything on Lilian... Morrison didn’t trust himself not to do something reckless.

When they finally reached the parking garage, Lilian was still staring at her phone, starry-eyed. Morrison reached over and snatched it out of her hand.

"You’re not accepting these designs," he said curtly. "If your brother won’t step in, I will."

Lilian’s eyes widened.

"What are you doing?!"

"Why can’t I accept them?"

"My brother doesn’t even care—who do you think you are to tell me what to do?!"

She lunged to grab her phone back, but Morrison caught her wrist mid-air, his voice dangerously low.

"Because I’m your man. That’s why I get to tell you."

Then, more firmly:

"Bert’s not a good guy. Stay away from him."

Lilian felt like crying.

Bert had changed—or at least, he was trying to. She’d only met him twice, but her instincts told her he wasn’t dangerous. If anything, he seemed... protective.

She didn’t sense any traps. No manipulation. Just kindness.

But Morrison?

He didn’t just not trust Bert—he didn’t trust her judgment either.

That hurt the most.

Frustrated and stifled, her chest tight with emotions she couldn’t untangle, Lilian yanked the door open and jumped out of the car.

"I don’t want to talk to you right now!"

She stormed off, refusing to look back.