Dating the Bossy CEO Next Door-Chapter 127- punishment

The finance manager, with a pounding headache, relayed Dave’s words to Morrison exactly as instructed.

On the other end of the line, Morrison said nothing. No protest, no explanation—just the click of the call ending. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

The manager exhaled helplessly. What on earth are these men playing at? Weren’t they supposed to be the closest of friends? Now it felt less like partnership and more like an invisible war.

By the afternoon, the answer came.

Washington Co. issued an official statement: from this day forward, they would sever all cooperation with MOS Corp.

The news fell upon Burg Eltz like a thunderclap. A tremor that promised an economic storm.

For years, Washington Co. and MOS Corp. had been the twin pillars of the city, their alliance stabilizing countless related industries. Their cooperation was not just business—it was the backbone of Burg Eltz’s prosperity. To cancel it so abruptly meant colossal losses not only for both giants but for every company tethered to their projects.

Chaos loomed. The statement was nothing short of an economic earthquake.

At the Morrison estate, the news stunned his parents into silence. Morrison’s father was the first to react, his hands trembling as he dialed Daniel. In his mind, there was only one explanation: Bert. The man had always carried the reputation of a ruthless schemer; surely this disastrous decision had been his doing.

But Daniel’s voice, when it came through, was thunder.

"Ask your son what kind of unforgivable thing he’s done!"

Then the line went dead.

Morrison’s father was left frozen, confusion pounding in his chest.

Meanwhile, Linda reached out directly to Morrison. Her voice quivered with both worry and disbelief as she asked, Why? Why would Washington Co. suddenly end everything?

On the other end, Morrison’s reply was chilling in its calmness:

"Because I broke up with Lilian."

Silence.

Linda’s heart stopped.

What did he just say?

Broke up? With Lilian?

When had they even begun?

And if they had begun—why, in God’s name, would he let her go?

Her emotions reeled, a wild plunge from shock to heartbreak to fury.

But Morrison had expected this reaction. Before she could demand more, he ended the call.

When Morrison’s father returned from his call with Daniel, Linda was still dazed, her eyes glassy, her lips whispering as if the words themselves hurt to form.

"He said... it’s because he and... Lilian... broke up."

Morrison’s father’s face darkened instantly.

As he feared.

So it was true.

This storm, this ruin—

all of it because of that single, devastating truth.

In truth, Morrison’s father had sensed it long ago.

In those rare moments when Morrison and Lilian appeared together before him, there had been flickers—small, almost imperceptible clues—that something existed between them. But he had kept his silence. He was not certain, and if he spoke out and was wrong, it would do more harm than good.

Later, when his son publicly admitted he had a girlfriend, even speaking of marriage, the father had pushed aside his doubts. Marriage, he thought. If it’s serious enough for him to speak of that, then sooner or later he will bring her home. We will see for ourselves.

But now... this.

A breakup.

The word struck like a blade.

Both father and Linda shared the same thought—both had cherished Lilian deeply. She was the girl they had watched grow, whose character they knew and trusted, whose presence in their family would have been a blessing beyond measure. To call her "the perfect daughter-in-law" felt almost too little.

And yet, Morrison had cast her aside.

And Washington Co.’s thunderous declaration—the severing of all ties with MOS Corp.—was the undeniable proof. Their fury was not baseless. Their daughter had been wronged, and it was their son who had delivered the blow.

Rage darkened the father’s face as the truth settled.

"Unfilial son!" he spat, the word sharp as a whip.

The outburst snapped Linda from her stunned haze. Her grief flared into anger, her love for Lilian crashing against the betrayal. She stormed toward the stairs, fire in her voice:

"Call the driver! I will see him now. I will ask that ungrateful boy why he dared to let Lilian go!"

To her, the truth was clear—Morrison had been the one to end it.

If Lilian had left of her own will, Washington Co. would not have moved mountains in vengeance.

Moments later, the car sped through the city, carrying Linda and her husband toward MOS Corp. The entire building was in chaos, every phone ringing, every assistant frantic under the avalanche of calls and collapsing deals.

But in the lord’s office, there was only silence.

Morrison’s phone was switched off, the landline unplugged.

When Linda burst inside, fury still hot in her veins, she found her son standing at the window, smoke curling from the cigarette between his fingers. She had been ready to strike him, her handbag already raised—

but then she saw his face.

The faint bruises. The hollow exhaustion. The wreck of him.

Her hand faltered. He was her son. Her flesh and blood. And though she was furious, the sight of him so undone clawed at her heart.

The handbag dropped back to her side. Her voice, however, rose sharp and trembling:

"What is going on here?"

Morrison exhaled smoke, his eyes dark, his voice cold.

"What do you mean, what’s going on? Didn’t I already say it over the phone?"

He wanted no more of this. No more questions, no more tearing open wounds that would not close. He had spoken to Laurent, and that was the limit of his strength. To his mother, to anyone else—he had nothing left to give.

Linda’s eyes brimmed red, her fury mixing with heartbreak.

"When did you start with Lilian? Why did you end it? Do you mean to give us no explanation at all?"

Morrison said nothing. He only drew on his cigarette, the silence heavier than words.

The crack of her handbag against his shoulder broke that silence. The hard corner dug into him; he flinched but made no sound, no protest.

His father, who had stood quietly through it all, finally spoke. His voice was cool, edged with steel, his gaze heavy with judgment.

"Is this what you call punishment, Morrison? Hurting her... and now destroying yourself as well?"

Linda’s shouts and accusations bounced off Morrison like wind against stone. He didn’t flinch, didn’t respond, didn’t even glance her way.

But his father’s words... those simple, measured words made him freeze.

Not for anything else, but because they struck directly at the core of his torment.

His father was right. Everything he was doing now—drinking, smoking, letting Dave strike him, enduring Bert’s manipulations, cutting off all communication, allowing Washington Co. to publicly cancel their partnership with MOS Corp.—it was self-inflicted punishment.

It was as if, by torturing himself, he could dull the pain gnawing at his heart.

His father’s voice cut through the haze, cold and sharp:

"You were the one who ended it, weren’t you?"

Morrison didn’t meet his gaze. He just drew in another long drag of smoke.

His father’s tone hardened.

"Don’t tell me you regret it. You break up, and immediately after, you regret it? What exactly are you doing, Morrison?"

The smoke curled between his fingers as he inhaled more fiercely, the gesture almost violent in its intensity.

Hearing the word regret, Linda’s heart leapt. She caught Morrison by the arm, her eyes sparkling with hope.

"You regret it? Then come with me to Burg Eltz. Let’s go apologize to Lilian! Right now!"

"Foolish!"

A sharp, controlled voice stopped her. Morrison’s father, who rarely raised his voice, intervened.

"Do you think a single apology will undo this mess in Burg Eltz? Do you really think it’s that simple?"

For years, Morrison’s father had been the calm, analytical half of the pair. A researcher by nature, he approached problems—business and personal—with precision and logic. Linda executed, he analyzed; over decades, they had learned to work in perfect unspoken coordination. When he spoke with measured authority, she never interrupted.

And now, under his stern gaze, Linda released Morrison’s arm.

He looked at Morrison, then instructed Linda in that low, unyielding tone:

"From now on, we do not intervene in this matter."

Linda opened her mouth to protest, but he continued:

"Whether you want to spend your life with your future daughter-in-law, or he wants to spend his with someone else...

Whether he regrets it, whether he apologizes, whether he tries to make amends—that is entirely his choice. Forcing him to apologize accomplishes nothing."

Every word, deliberate and cutting, emphasized a single truth: if Morrison truly wanted to make things right, no outsider could do it for him.

And if he didn’t... then nothing anyone else did would matter.

It was, in its own way, a command and a warning: the time to act was entirely in Morrison’s hands.