Lilian had always known what kind of man Morrison was.
His past relationships, the long string of nas whispered behind closed doors, the rumors in the papers—she knew them all, and she had rejected him, resisted him, for those very reasons.
But even so, the one falling deeper and deeper... was still her.
She had once sworn never to let anyone get close enough to hurt her. She had even told herself she didn’t need love or marriage. A quiet life on her own was enough. Simple, peaceful, safe.
Yet now that she was truly in love, she realized how childish, how naive those promises had been.
Love didn’t care about logic. Love didn’t ask for permission.
She had thought she was in control—that as long as she didn’t want to fall, nothing could touch her.
Now she understood. It wasn’t people who ruled love; it was love that ruled people. Love that dictated joy and sorrow, courage and fear. It decided who would cry, who would laugh, who would be broken, and who would burn.
Back at her desk, Lilian had barely sat down when a colleague leaned over and whispered excitedly,
"Hey, Lilian, did you hear? Soone said they saw the boss kissing a girl in the stairwell! You know anything about that?"
Lilian’s heart nearly stopped.
She forced a smile, barely able to string a sentence together.
"I-I was in the restroom the whole ti. Had a bit of a stomachache. Didn’t hear anything."
Her colleague sighed.
"Too bad, I thought you might’ve seen sothing. Whoever it was—soone said the boss was shielding her completely, so they couldn’t even see the girl’s face. Ugh, can you imagine dating him? The Morrison? That’d be like winning the damn lottery. He’s the perfect boyfriend."
Perfect? Lilian almost scoffed aloud. Only on the surface.
Behind closed doors, he was insufferably possessive. And unbelievably petty.
But of course, she could only complain silently in her heart. Outwardly, she just gave a faint chuckle, then lowered her head and went back to her work.
Around her, the office buzzed with speculation. Luckily, this floor housed not only the Finance Departnt but also two other divisions. So for now, no one had a clue the mystery woman... was her.
That afternoon, Morrison attended a public event. A large one, with dia coverage and press interviews.
Despite being from the finance world, Morrison’s charisma and reputation rivaled those of A-list celebrities. Naturally, reporters couldn’t help but gossip about his love life.
And when the official questions were over, one bold reporter finally asked,
"Mr. Morrison, can you tell us anything about your current relationship status?"
They fully expected him to dodge, as he always did. So vague response or witty deflection.
But instead, Morrison looked straight at the cara, posture straight and tone utterly serious.
"This is Morrison speaking. I’ve been in a relationship for a while now. She’s soone I see a future with—marriage is definitely on the table. So I’d appreciate it if you’d stop linking to unrelated won. My girlfriend reads the news. It upsets her."
His words stunned the press.
Everyone in the industry knew Morrison had a colorful past. He’d dated, flirted, dined with many. But never had he publicly acknowledged any woman like this—let alone ntion marriage.
This was a first.
And the fact that he, the elusive Morrison, had spoken of soone he wanted to marry...
The dia erupted.
Reporters scrambled to ask who she was. What kind of woman had captured Morrison’s heart?
But he simply smiled and said,
"She’s shy. I don’t want to disrupt her peaceful life."
And with that, he stood up and walked away, leaving a sea of stunned reporters in his wake.
Going public about having a girlfriend—and declaring solemnly that he would stay faithful from now on—was one of Morrison’s subtle ways of rewriting his own narrative.
Maybe Lilian’s parents didn’t yet know who he had done it for.
But one day, when their relationship ca to light, they would.
They would see that Morrison had chosen to change for their daughter.
To clean up his image. To make himself worthy of her.
But before any of that could happen, the news broke.
And Linda, watching the interview at ho, nearly exploded.
She called Morrison the mont the segnt ended, the phone barely ringing once before she was shouting into it.
"What the hell was that, Morrison?! You’ve got a girlfriend now?! You’re talking about marriage?! Who is she?! Why didn’t you tell ?!"
But no matter how furiously she pressed him, Morrison kept his lips sealed.
Not a word. Not a single na. Not even a hint.
Linda was about to cry from frustration.
Mos, ever the calm one, tried to soothe her as she paced the living room.
"Isn’t it good that our son’s finally settling down? Why do you need to know exactly who it is?"
Linda spun around, practically fuming.
"Because I’m a woman, Mos! You n don’t understand what it’s like. The curiosity, the gossip itch—I have to know! And that ungrateful brat is keeping it from on purpose! He’s torturing !"
She was genuinely losing her mind.
Mos patted her back gently, trying not to laugh.
"He said the girl is shy. Maybe he doesn’t want to scare her off. Maybe it’s just not the right ti to make it public yet."
Linda wasn’t having it.
"But I’m his mother! Am I really that terrifying that she’d run away just hearing about ?"
Mos held up his hands.
"No, no, of course not. You’re not terrifying at all. But maybe the girl just isn’t ready to et us yet. Maybe she wants to take things slow."
"Slow?" Linda narrowed her eyes.
"He’ll tell us eventually," Mos said patiently. "It’s not like he’s going to get married in secret. You’ll know soon enough."
Linda finally—finally—cald down a little. But her expression was still stormy.
"I swear," she muttered, arms crossed. "One of these days, I’m going to pack up my things and move into his house. Let’s see how long that mystery girl stays hidden then!"
Mos blinked.
He was speechless.
And vaguely terrified.
After hanging up, Linda sat in silence for a long mont.
Then—still fuming—she redialed Morrison’s number.
This ti, her voice was sharper, but more focused.
"Fine," she snapped. "I won’t ask who she is anymore. I’ll just ask you one thing—is it the sa girl from before? The one you cooked for before New Year’s? Did you two get back together?"
Morrison didn’t hesitate.
"Yes."
It was a single, simple word, but it seed to finally soothe Linda’s battered curiosity.
A slow sigh left her lips, and she grumbled,
"You better not ss this up again. You’ve gone public now. If this thing crashes and burns, don’t bother coming back to the Mos family—ever!"
With that threat hanging in the air, she hung up.
On the other end of the line, Morrison let out a laugh.
He couldn’t even be mad. His mother was unhinged—but she cared.
Of course, that sa interview didn’t just nearly drive Linda crazy.
It nearly gave Lilian a heart attack.
Her heart had almost leapt out of her chest when she saw his face on the screen, standing in front of flashing caras, his tone calm and composed as he said—
"I’m in a serious relationship, the kind where marriage is on the table."
She sat frozen, a breath stuck in her throat, afraid he’d say more—afraid he’d say her na.
But he didn’t.
He kept her identity a secret.
Still, she hadn’t expected this.
She hadn’t expected Morrison—a man practically born under the spotlight, a man who had never once officially acknowledged any woman before—to suddenly draw a clear line in the sand for her.
To reject the entire world... just to keep her in it.
She stared at the screen, dazed.
There he was, in a sharply tailored black suit and crisp white shirt, every line of his face like it was carved from marble—flawless, elegant, too perfect to be real.
Like a modern-day Greek god.
And yet... that sa man had cooked for her, kissed her forehead, taken secret pictures of her while she slept, and protected her behind stairwell doors.
Was he really giving up the entire forest... for just her?
Her heart skipped a beat.
Her cheeks flushed.
She was in trouble.
Big, big trouble.
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