Chapter 166: Chapter 166- A relationship
Karl had barely stepped into Morrison’s room when he followed right after, shutting the door behind them.
"Brother," Karl said, adjusting his glasses as a sly glint flashed in his dark eyes, "if you can give your shares to Lilian as part of the engagement gift, then I can do the same with mine, right?"
Morrison narrowed his eyes immediately, already guessing where this was heading. His voice was sharp as a whip.
"I’ve known Lilian for years, Karl. Our families go way back, and I know her inside out. But you? You’ve only known Marylin for what—days? How much do you even know about her? And you want to throw your shares at her already? That’s reckless."
He remembered the baby shower at the Laurents’. That was when Karl had first set his eyes on Marylin. Morrison had a vague impression of her—how could he not? The woman was striking, dangerously so. The kind who turned heads the moment she walked into a room.
Years ago, when Dave divorced Laurent, Marylin had returned with a few others to check on him. Morrison had seen her then too—she’d left an impression, no doubt about that.
But to him, Marylin wasn’t some naïve girl. She was worldly, seasoned. A woman like her wasn’t someone a man like Karl—who had spent the past twenty-something years buried in research, untouched by women—could easily handle.
So, Karl dating Marylin? Fine. Let him have his fling. But giving away his shares to her? That was a risk Morrison wouldn’t endorse.
Karl, however, didn’t flinch. He merely smiled, a trace of defiance in his tone.
"Some people you can know a lifetime and never truly understand. And some... you only need a single glance to know exactly what they are."
All his words—every single one—were in Marylin’s favor. Morrison sighed, too tired to argue.
"Do whatever you want."
He had his own mess of a love life to deal with; Karl’s impulsiveness was the least of his problems. Still, he couldn’t resist one jab.
"Weren’t you the one who said you wouldn’t copy my tricks? Funny how you’re following my steps now."
Karl looked helpless.
"Come on, brother. I’m not copying you. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. I just never had the guts to tell you."
With that, Karl excused himself and left.
The truth was, Karl had indeed been planning this for a while. He wanted a grand gesture, something undeniable, something that would make Marylin see how serious he was. He’d even considered giving her his entire fortune—but he hadn’t dared to mention it to the family, afraid Morrison would tear him apart.
Who knew Morrison would have the exact same idea for Lilian? Brothers indeed—two fools, thinking the same foolish thought.
As for Lilian, she left for the States two days later with Bert—without telling Morrison.
The night before, Morrison had invited her to dinner. She didn’t say a word about her plans.
She’d meant to. But Bert, upon hearing she wanted to inform Morrison, had flat-out refused.
"Leave him hanging. Let him know how it feels to be abandoned for once," Bert had said coldly. "A little taste of heartbreak might pay him back for the pain he caused you when he broke things off."
Lilian, however, didn’t think it was necessary. She had already chosen to get back together with Morrison—digging up the past over and over again felt pointless, even childish.
But Bert wouldn’t hear it. He was adamant.
"Don’t tell him," he’d said, voice like iron.
After over a year of being around him, Lilian knew exactly what kind of person Bert was. When he set his mind on tormenting someone, he didn’t care about reason or consequences. He was obsessive like that—relentless. And right now, his target was Morrison.
She had her own reasons too. Part of her wanted to avoid the whole awkward mess of meeting each other’s parents, all those expectations Morrison had been talking about lately.
So in the end, Lilian said nothing. She kept her silence, boarded the plane, and slipped quietly back to the States with Bert—leaving Morrison completely in the dark.
It was easy to imagine just how furious Morrison was when he found out Lilian had slipped away to America without a word.
He had already set the date with his parents. The lawyers had drafted the share transfer agreement—one for her, and even one for Karl. Everything was ready. All that was left was for both families to meet, and he would present the shares as his betrothal gift.
The call he made was supposed to be simple—a polite heads-up, to ask if the time he arranged worked for her parents, to see if adjustments were needed.
But instead? The bride-to-be had vanished.
Morrison’s anger burned so hot it turned cold. He didn’t even speak for a long while on the line. On the other end, Lilian gripped the phone, her heart tightening with guilt. She opened her mouth to apologize—only for Bert to come down the stairs, take one look at her expression, and snatch the phone right out of her hands. He hung up without hesitation.
"Bert!" she gasped, panic flashing across her face. "Wait—"
"Stop," Bert cut her off, his tone sharp as a blade. "Don’t you ever let me see you make that face for him again. You are a queen, Lilian. Always."
He knew her too well. Knew that soft heart of hers would crumble the moment she heard Morrison’s restrained, simmering voice.
Lilian had left with her head held high, telling herself she was right to avoid the forced family meeting Morrison arranged. But hearing him—angry, yes, but still trying to keep his temper—her resolve faltered.
And now, with Bert’s reprimand still echoing in her ears, she didn’t even know who she was supposed to be in front of Morrison anymore.
She never wanted to be some commanding queen towering over him. Yet Bert kept insisting she must be.
Helplessly, she looked at him.
"Bert... do you really think I have the personality of a queen?"
She had met women who truly deserved that title—women like Sophia and Tina, with their innate charisma, their effortless dominance. That was never her.
Bert scoffed.
"Who’s born a queen? It’s a mindset. You decide you deserve the higher ground—and you take it."
He was relentless. Overprotective, even. All he wanted was to see her reconcile with Morrison on his terms: with Morrison trampled beneath her feet, every single day. Only then would his grudge feel settled.
That was Bert—intense in love, vicious in hate.
Those he cherished, he would shield at all costs. Those he disliked? He would crush without mercy.
And Morrison... well, he was firmly in the latter category.
Lilian fell silent. She understood Bert’s intentions—his protectiveness came from love—but his demands felt so unrealistic.
If one day he found a girlfriend, would he want her to crush him like that too?
A relationship didn’t need one person stepping on the other to work. It needed happiness. Balance. That was all.
But as the conversation lingered on relationships, Lilian suddenly thought of something else.
What about him?
Her dear brother—wasn’t it about time he considered his own future?
If she remembered correctly, he was two years older than Dave. And Dave was already thirty-four. That made Bert thirty-six. Not exactly young anymore.
And yet, after living with him for over a year, she had seen no signs of a girlfriend. Not even the faintest intention of finding one.
So she asked, softly but directly,
"Bert... don’t you think it’s time you started thinking about your own marriage?"
Bert froze for a moment, then let out a dry, self-mocking laugh.
"I don’t crave marriage. I don’t even know what a proper family feels like, Lilian. How can I long for something I’ve never tasted?"
His voice grew firmer, quieter.
"And I refuse to marry just because the calendar says I should. That would be irresponsible—to myself, to the woman I marry, and most of all, to the children that might come from it."
He glanced at her, his dark eyes unreadable.
"So love... marriage... if they come, fine. If not, it doesn’t matter to me."
And with that, Bert rose to his feet and walked away, leaving Lilian silent in his wake.
She knew why. That question, that topic—it all tied back to their father.
If not for Daniel, the man who had given Bert such a humiliating, half-acknowledged identity... if not for the incomplete, fractured family he grew up in, perhaps Bert wouldn’t view love and marriage with such weary indifference.
Growing up with a missing father figure had carved a scar into him, one that made him tread carefully—too carefully—around the idea of building a family of his own.
If he ever had a child, he was determined: that child would never endure what he had endured. He would love his child fiercely. Love the mother of that child with his whole heart. Create a home overflowing with the affection he never received.
But to this day, he hadn’t found a woman worthy of that kind of love.
As for Clark? That was never about love. That had been about power—a petty war for what should have belonged to Dave. And Clark... she had chosen him out of greed for influence and wealth.
How could a woman like that ever deserve to be cherished?
He didn’t know if a woman capable of touching his heart would ever appear. But he knew one thing: if she never did, he wouldn’t regret it.
Life, for a man or a woman, was never solely about marriage, children, or building a home. There were far more meaningful pursuits. Love and marriage were seasonings to life—not its staple.
If they came, he would savor and nurture them.
If not, he would never beg for them.