Whatever reaction Lilian might have, Morrison had clearly already predicted it.
So he remained perfectly composed, sitting there calmly as if nothing had happened.
"Let's eat first," he said flatly. "We'll talk after dinner."
As if she could eat!
Lilian sat stiffly at the table, too furious to even lift her chopsticks. Her appetite had been replaced entirely by a storm of frustration.
Across from her, Morrison was eating at a leisurely pace—elegant, composed, completely unaffected.
That just made her more pissed off.
She grabbed her phone and powered it on.
Fine. Since Karl had already told Linda they broke up over "incompatible values," she might as well face the music. Hiding wouldn't change anything.
As expected, the moment her phone lit up, it buzzed with a dozen missed calls.
Karl.
Linda.
Her mother—Tiffany.
Even Laurent.
She stared at the names for a moment, then finally tapped on Laurent's number and hit redial.
