The night air felt like needles against Liana's skin. After the limousine disappeared, the silence of the city felt even heavier. She walked aimlessly for another hour, her wet clothes clinging to her body like a second, colder skin. Her mind was a whirlwind of Raka's mocking face and the little girl's bright yellow raincoat. Most of all, she couldn't stop thinking about the man-Adrian. He had looked at her like she was a stain on the sidewalk, something to be stepped over or cleaned up.

"I am not a stain," she hissed through chattering teeth.

She found a small, 24-hour laundromat that smelled of cheap detergent and warm dryer exhaust. It was the most beautiful smell she had ever encountered. She sat on a plastic orange chair in the corner, clutching her paint box. She didn't have much money-just a few bills stuffed in her pocket before she bolted-but she had enough for a cup of lukewarm coffee from a vending machine.

As she sipped the bitter liquid, her phone vibrated in her pocket. It was a text from Raka.

*'Don't think you can come crawling back tomorrow when you realize how expensive the world is. I've already told the maids to pack your trash and throw it in the bin. You're dead to this family, Liana.'*

Liana stared at the screen until the words blurred. She didn't cry. The tears had dried up, replaced by a cold, hard knot in her chest. She deleted the message and blocked his number. He thought he could break her by taking away the luxury, but he didn't realize that the luxury had been her prison.

She spent the night leaning against the humming washing machines, drifting in and out of a restless sleep. In her dreams, she was painting a massive canvas, but the paint was made of rain, and every time she brushed a stroke, it washed away.

The next morning, the sun rose with an unapologetic brightness. Liana felt like she had been hit by a truck. Her throat was sore, and her joints ached. She used the sink in the laundromat's tiny bathroom to splash her face and try to tame her hair. She looked pale, her eyes shadowed, but there was a new sharpness in her gaze. She wasn't just a grieving daughter anymore. She was a woman with nothing left to lose.

She spent the next two days in a blur of desperation. She checked into the cheapest hostel she could find, a place that smelled of old cigarettes and damp wood. She spent her hours at a public library, scouring the internet for work-any work. But Raka hadn't been lying about one thing: a 21-year-old with an unfinished art degree and no work history was a hard sell in a city that ran on experience and connections.

On the third day, fate decided to knock again, but this time it didn't use a fist-it used a child's tantrum.

Liana was walking past a high-end toy store, hoping to find a "Help Wanted" sign, when she saw a familiar black limousine parked at the curb. A crowd had gathered, whispering and pointing. In the center of the commotion was Mika.

The little girl was sitting flat on the sidewalk, her face red, screaming at the top of her lungs. Her nanny, an older woman who looked like she was on the verge of a heart attack, was pleading with her.

"Please, Miss Mika! Your father is in a very important meeting inside. We have to go!"

"No! I want the lady! The paint lady! You said we would find her!" Mika wailed, kicking her legs.

"Mika, stop this instant!"

The store doors swung open, and Adrian stepped out. He looked even more imposing in the daylight. His suit was a deep navy, and his face was a mask of pure, unadulterated frustration. He looked like a man who could command a boardroom of a hundred people but was completely defeated by a forty-pound six-year-old.

"Get up," Adrian commanded.

Mika only screamed louder. "No! You're mean! You were mean to the princess! I want her!"

Liana stood at the edge of the crowd, frozen. She should walk away. This man was a jerk, and this wasn't her problem. But then she saw Mika's face-not just angry, but genuinely lonely. It was a look Liana knew too well.

Before she could stop herself, Liana pushed through the crowd.

"Mika?"

The screaming stopped instantly. Mika looked up, her eyes puffy and wet. A huge, toothy grin broke across her face. "Princess! You found me!"

Mika scrambled up and threw herself at Liana's legs, nearly knocking her over. Liana instinctively reached down and hugged the girl, feeling the small, shaking frame relax against her.

Adrian stood frozen. He looked at Liana, his eyes scanning her from her worn-out sneakers to her tired face. He looked like he had seen a ghost-or a very inconvenient miracle.

"You," he said, his voice dropping an octave.

"Me," Liana replied, refusing to look away. "Your daughter has a very loud voice. You might want to listen to what she's actually saying instead of just barking orders."

The crowd gasped. Nobody talked to Adrian Dirgantara like that. The nanny looked like she was about to faint. Adrian's eyes narrowed, his jaw set so tight Liana thought it might crack. He stepped closer, invading her personal space, bringing with him the scent of expensive sandalwood and cold steel.

"You think you know how to handle my daughter better than I do?" he asked, his voice a low, dangerous growl.

"I think I know that she's not a project or a building, Mr. Dirgantara," Liana said, her heart hammering against her ribs, but her voice remaining steady. "She's a child. She doesn't care about your meetings. She's sad."

Adrian looked at his daughter, who was currently hiding her face in Liana's jacket, refusing to let go. He looked back at Liana, his expression shifting from anger to a strange, brooding calculation. He saw the state of her clothes-cleaner than before, but cheap. He saw the desperation she was trying so hard to hide.

"My office. Now," Adrian said, turning toward the car.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Liana snapped.

Adrian stopped and turned back. He looked at her with a chillingly professional gaze. "My daughter has refused to eat properly for three days because she's been 'looking' for you. My house is in chaos. I don't have time for a debate on the sidewalk. You need a job, don't you? I can see it in your eyes. You're one step away from the street."

Liana flinched. He was right, but hearing it out loud felt like a slap.

"I am offering you a position," Adrian continued, his voice devoid of any warmth. "Mika's nanny resigned this morning-she couldn't handle the stress. You seem to be the only person this child responds to. Come to my office. We talk terms. Or you can stay here and maintain your 'pride' while your stomach growls."

Liana looked down at Mika, who was looking up at her with big, hopeful eyes. Then she looked at Adrian. He wasn't offering a hand up; he was offering a transaction. It was cold, it was business, and it was exactly what she needed to survive.

"Fine," Liana said. "But I'm not a nanny. I'm an artist."

"You can call yourself a circus performer for all I care," Adrian said, opening the car door. "Just get in the car."

The ride to the Dirgantara Tower was silent and suffocating. Mika sat between them, holding Liana's hand like a lifeline, while Adrian stared out the window, his phone glued to his hand as he fired off emails. He didn't say a word to Liana. It was as if she had already become a piece of equipment he had leased.

When they arrived at his penthouse office, the scale of his wealth became even clearer. The walls were glass, overlooking the entire city. Everything was black, white, and grey. There was no color, no soul. It was a beautiful tomb.

Adrian sat behind a massive mahogany desk and signaled for the nanny to take Mika to the playroom. Mika didn't want to go, but Liana whispered, "I'll be right here, I promise," and the girl finally relented.

Once the door closed, Adrian leaned back, his eyes boring into Liana.

"Let's be clear," he started. "I don't know who you are, and frankly, I don't care. But my daughter has developed a fixated attachment to you. My advisors tell me she needs stability after... her mother's passing."

Liana felt a pang of sympathy, but she didn't let it show. "And you think you can just buy that stability?"

"I can buy anything," Adrian said coldly. "Here is the deal. You live in the estate. You are responsible for Mika's schedule, her well-being, and most importantly, her emotional state. You will be paid three times the market rate for a private educator."

"And what's the catch?" Liana asked.

Adrian leaned forward, his hands clasped on the desk. "The catch is that you follow my rules. No guests. No personal drama. And do not-under any circumstances-think that this makes you a part of my life. You are an employee. To Mika, you are a companion. To me, you are a line item in the household budget. Do we have an understanding?"

Liana felt a surge of anger. He was so arrogant, so convinced that money solved everything. She wanted to throw his offer in his face. But then she thought of the hostel, the smell of the laundromat, and Raka's text.

She needed a base. She needed a place to rebuild. If she had to deal with a human iceberg to get her life back, she would.

"I want a studio," Liana said.

Adrian blinked. "What?"

"If I live there, I need a room with good light where I can paint. And I want two hours a day of uninterrupted time for my own work. Those are my terms."

Adrian looked at her like she was an alien. He wasn't used to people Negotiating with him, especially not people who didn't have a penny to their name. A small, almost imperceptible smirk touched the corner of his mouth-not a kind smile, but a grimace of respect for her audacity.

"Fine. One room. Two hours. Don't make me regret this, Liana."

"You probably will," Liana muttered.

"Sign here," he said, sliding a thick contract across the desk.

As Liana picked up the pen, she realized she was signing her life away again. But this time, it felt different. With Raka, she had been a victim. With Adrian, she was a soldier entering enemy territory.

She signed the paper with a flourish. Adrian took it back, his fingers briefly brushing hers. His skin was warm, a startling contrast to his icy demeanor. He pulled back as if he'd been burned.

"My driver will take you to your hostel to get your things. Be at the house by 6 PM. Don't be late. I hate tardiness."

Liana stood up, smoothing out her damp jeans. "And I hate people who think they're the center of the universe, Mr. Dirgantara. I guess we'll both be disappointed."

She turned and walked out before he could respond. As she left the office, she could feel his eyes on her back, heavy and questioning.

She was going into the lion's den. She didn't have a plan to make him fall in love yet-she was just trying to keep her head above water. But as she saw Mika waiting by the elevator, jumping up and down with joy, Liana felt a spark of something she hadn't felt in a long time.

Hope. It was a dangerous thing, but it was all she had.

She went back to the hostel, packed her single box of paints and her few clothes. As she rode in the back of the luxury car toward the Dirgantara estate-a massive fortress of stone and glass on the outskirts of the city-she looked at her reflection in the tinted window.

"Just you wait, Adrian," she whispered. "That ice of yours? It's going to melt. And I'm going to be the one to watch it turn into water."

The gates to the estate opened slowly, like the mouth of a giant beast. Liana took a deep breath and stepped inside. The war had just begun.

The Dirgantara estate was even more intimidating up close than it was from the road. It wasn't just a house; it was a monument to wealth and isolation. The driveway was lined with perfectly manicured hedges that looked like they were trimmed with a ruler, and the gravel crunching under the car tires sounded expensive. When the driver opened the door for Liana, she stepped out holding her battered cardboard box of paints, feeling like a speck of dust in a museum.

"Welcome, Miss Liana," a man said, standing at the massive mahogany front doors. He was older, dressed in a sharp black suit, and had a face that looked like it hadn't smiled since the late nineties. "I am Hadi, the head of the household staff. Master Adrian is currently in his study and is not to be disturbed. I will show you to your quarters."

Liana nodded, trying to keep her chin up. "And Mika?"

"The young mistress is currently having her dinner. You will join her shortly," Hadi replied, his tone neutral but slightly guarded. He looked at Liana's box with a faint wrinkle of his nose. "I will have someone take... that... to your room."

"No, thank you. I can carry it myself," Liana said, tightening her grip. It was the only thing she owned that still felt like it belonged to the girl who had dreams.

The interior of the house was a nightmare of minimalism. White marble floors, grey silk rugs, and glass everywhere. It felt like walking through a refrigerator. There were no family photos on the walls, no stray toys, no signs of life. It was a house built for a man who wanted to control every shadow.

Hadi led her to the second floor. Her room was tucked away in a quiet wing, far from Adrian's master suite but close enough to Mika's. To her surprise, it was beautiful, but in a cold way. The windows were massive, offering a view of the dark, sprawling gardens.

"Master Adrian has designated the adjoining sunroom as your studio," Hadi said, gesturing to a smaller room connected by a sliding glass door. "The light is best in the morning. Your hours for 'personal pursuits' are between 5 AM and 7 AM, before the young mistress wakes."

Liana almost laughed. Of course. Adrian didn't just give her time; he gave her the time when most of the world was still asleep. "He's very generous," she said sarcastically.

Hadi didn't catch the tone-or he ignored it. "Dinner is in ten minutes. Please freshen up."

After a quick change into the cleanest clothes she had-a simple black sweater and jeans-Liana made her way to the dining room. It was a cavernous space with a table that could easily seat twenty people. At one end sat Mika, looking tiny and lost in a high-backed velvet chair.

"Princess!" Mika squealed, nearly dropping her spoon.

"Hey, kiddo," Liana smiled, sitting down next to her. The warmth she felt for the girl was the only thing keeping her from running back out the front door. "How's the food?"

"Boring," Mika whispered. "Hadi makes me eat broccoli. Every day."

"Well, maybe we can negotiate a broccoli-to-ice-cream ratio later," Liana winked.

Mika giggled, and for a moment, the room felt a little less like a tomb. But the warmth didn't last long. The heavy doors at the end of the hall opened, and Adrian walked in. He didn't look like a man coming home to relax. He looked like a man coming to inspect a factory. He didn't even change out of his suit; he just removed his tie.

He sat at the head of the table, miles away from them. A maid immediately placed a plate in front of him. He didn't say hello. He didn't look at Liana. He just started cutting his steak with clinical precision.

"Did you find your room acceptable?" he asked, his voice echoing. He still didn't look up.

"It's fine," Liana said. "The studio has good light. Though I think the 5 AM start time is a bit of a power move."

Adrian's knife paused for a fraction of a second. "It is the only time when your presence is not required by my daughter. My money pays for your focus, Liana. Not your sleep."

Liana felt the fire in her chest flare up. "I'm not a machine, Mr. Dirgantara. But don't worry, I can paint in the dark if I have to. I've done it before."

Adrian finally looked up. His eyes were dark, searching her face for a sign of weakness. "In this house, we follow schedules. Mika has school at 8 AM. You will accompany her. You will be back by 3 PM for her art and French lessons. In between, you are free to do as you wish, provided you stay on the grounds."

"French lessons? She's six," Liana protested. "When does she get to just... play?"

"Play is a luxury for those without responsibilities," Adrian said coldly. "Mika is a Dirgantara. She will be prepared for her future."

Mika's head was down, her spoon moving slowly through her soup. She looked miserable. Liana looked at the little girl, then back at the man who seemed to be made of stone. This wasn't just a job anymore. This was a rescue mission.

"Responsibility is important," Liana said, her voice dropping to a softer but firmer tone. "But a child who doesn't know how to imagine will grow up to be a man who doesn't know how to feel. Is that what you want for her?"

The tension in the room became thick enough to choke on. The maids stood frozen by the sideboard. Adrian set his fork down with a loud clank.

"You are here to care for her, not to lecture me on parenting," he said, his voice dangerously low. "Remember your place."

"My place is whatever I make it," Liana shot back.

Adrian stared at her. He looked genuinely baffled that this girl-this "placeholder" of an employee-had the nerve to challenge him twice in one day. Most people crumbled under his gaze. Liana just tilted her chin up, her eyes bright with defiance.

"Daddy, don't be mean," Mika whispered, her voice trembling.

Adrian looked at his daughter, and for a split second, a crack appeared in his mask. A flicker of guilt, or perhaps just exhaustion. He rubbed his temples and stood up.

"I have work to finish," he said, turning away without finishing his meal. "Hadi will give you the rest of the rules. Goodnight, Mika."

He walked out, his footsteps receding down the long hallway. Liana watched him go, feeling a strange mix of anger and curiosity. He wasn't just a jerk; he was a man who seemed to be fighting a war with himself.

"Is Daddy mad?" Mika asked, her eyes welling with tears.

Liana moved her chair closer and wrapped an arm around the girl. "No, sweetie. Your daddy is just... he's just forgotten how to be a person. But we're going to help him remember, okay?"

Mika looked up, hopeful. "How?"

Liana smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "We're going to start with a little bit of color. But first, let's finish that broccoli so we can find where they hide the chocolate."

That night, after Liana tucked Mika into bed, she couldn't sleep. The house was too quiet. Every creak of the floorboards felt like a whisper. She wandered down to the kitchen to get a glass of water, but as she passed the library, she saw a light glowing under the door.

Curiosity got the better of her. She pushed the door open just a crack.

Adrian was there, sitting at a massive desk covered in blueprints and spreadsheets. But he wasn't working. He was holding a small, framed photograph in his hands, staring at it with an expression Liana hadn't seen before. He looked broken. He looked human.

She stepped back, her heart racing. She realized then that the "Ice Architect" wasn't cold because he lacked a heart; he was cold because he was freezing his pain to keep it from shattering him.

She went back to her room and opened her paint box. She took out a fresh canvas. She didn't paint the landscapes she usually loved. Instead, she took a glob of deep, dark blue and a streak of stark, cold white.

"You want a machine, Adrian?" she whispered to the empty room. "Too bad. You got an artist."

She stayed up long past midnight, her brush moving frantically. She was painting the man in the library-not his face, but the feeling of him. The loneliness, the steel, the hidden cracks.

At 5 AM, just as the sun began to bleed into the horizon, Liana put her brush down. Her hands were stained with blue paint, and her eyes were burning with fatigue. She looked at her work. It was raw and messy, but it was honest.

She realized then that her "tekad" to make him fall in love wasn't just about winning a game or securing her future. It was about seeing if there was anything left inside that fortress worth saving.

She cleaned her brushes, her mind already buzzing with the next day's plan. She had to deal with the school run, the cold glares from the staff, and the looming presence of a man who hated everything she stood for.

But as she looked out at the garden, she saw a single bird land on a frozen fountain. It pecked at the ice, stubborn and persistent.

Liana smiled. "I feel you, little guy," she murmured. "We'll break through eventually."

She had 257 chapters to go, and she knew every single one of them would be a battle. But as she finally climbed into bed, she didn't feel like a janda or a failure. She felt like a woman with a mission. And Adrian Dirgantara had no idea what was coming for him.

The sunlight hit the floor of the sunroom at exactly 5:15 AM. It wasn't the soft, welcoming glow Liana was used to back in her mother's small apartment; it was sharp and clinical, reflecting off the polished glass walls of the Dirgantara estate. Her head felt heavy from the lack of sleep, but the adrenaline of her new life kept her moving. She had two hours-her "personal pursuit" time, as the iceberg downstairs called it-and she wasn't going to waste a single second.

She stood in front of the canvas she had started last night. In the daylight, the dark blues and whites looked even more haunting. It was Adrian, or at least, the soul of the man she had glimpsed through the library door. She picked up a palette knife and began to scrape away some of the thick paint, creating jagged edges.

"Control," she whispered, mimicking his deep, monotonous voice. "Everything must be in its place."

She was so absorbed in the movement of the paint that she didn't hear the soft click of the sunroom door.

"What is that?"

Liana jumped, her palette knife slipping and leaving a long, unintended streak of white across the blue. Вshe spun around to see Mika standing there, wearing pink pajamas and clutching her raggedy stuffed rabbit.

"Mika! You scared me," Liana breathed, clutching her chest. "It's way too early. You're supposed to be asleep for another hour."

Mika walked closer, her eyes wide as she looked at the messy, abstract painting. "It looks like the ocean in a storm," the girl said softly. "Or the way Daddy looks when he thinks I'm not watching."

Liana froze. Children were far more perceptive than adults gave them credit for. "It's just a study of colors, sweetie. Why are you awake?"

"I had a bad dream. The nanny used to just tell me to go back to sleep or she'd tell Daddy I was being difficult. But I saw the light in here." Mika looked up at Liana. "Are you going to tell on me?"

Liana knelt down, ignoring the blue paint that smudged onto her own jeans. She pulled Mika into a hug. "Never. In this room, there are no 'difficult' children. Only artists. You want to help me?"

Mika's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Can I?"

Liana handed her a small brush and a tube of yellow paint-the same color as Mika's raincoat from the day they met. "Here. Put a little bit of light in that corner. Just a tiny bit. It's our secret."

For the next forty-five minutes, the two of them worked in silence. It was the most peaceful Liana had felt since her mother passed away. But the peace was shattered at exactly 6:30 AM when the door swung open with enough force to rattle the glass.

Hadi, the head of the household, stood there. His face was a mask of pure horror.

"Miss Liana! What on earth is happening here?"

Liana stood up, shielding Mika behind her. "We're painting, Hadi. It's not a crime."

Hadi looked at Mika's pajamas, which now had a small yellow smudge on the sleeve, and then at the floor where a few drops of water had spilled. "The young mistress has a schedule! 6:30 is her time for morning hygiene and prayer, followed by a protein-heavy breakfast at 7:00. Look at her! She is covered in... in... pigment!"

"It's called paint, Hadi. It washes off," Liana said, her voice rising.

"Master Adrian will hear of this," Hadi snapped, his voice trembling with indignation. "The rules are very clear. Your 'art' was not to interfere with the young mistress's development. You are teaching her chaos!"

"I'm teaching her to breathe!" Liana stepped toward him, her height nearly matching his. "She's been living in a museum, Hadi. She's a little girl, not a statue. If you want to tell Adrian, go ahead. I'll be right here."

Hadi huffed, looking like he was about to have a stroke. He gestured for Mika to come to him. The girl looked at Liana, then slowly walked toward the butler, her head hanging low. The spark that had been in her eyes moments ago was gone, replaced by the dull obedience of a well-trained dog. It made Liana's blood boil.

Liana followed them out, heading straight for the kitchen. She needed coffee, and she needed it before she ran into the Master of the House.

The kitchen staff was a well-oiled machine. They didn't speak; they just moved. A chef was plating a piece of grilled salmon and steamed asparagus. Liana looked at the clock. It was 7:00 AM.

"Is that for Mika?" Liana asked.

"Yes, Miss," the chef replied without looking up. "Master Adrian's orders. High protein, no processed sugars."

"She's six," Liana muttered. "Can she have a pancake? Just one?"

The chef actually stopped and looked at her as if she had asked for a plate of poison. "No, Miss. We do not deviate from the menu."

Liana grabbed a piece of toast and walked toward the dining room. Adrian was already there, reading a digital newspaper on his tablet. He looked perfect, as usual. Not a hair out of place, his shirt pressed so sharply it could probably cut glass.

"I hear there was an incident in the sunroom," Adrian said, not looking up from his tablet.

Liana sat down, not at the far end of the table, but just two seats away from him. She felt his peripheral vision twitch. "If by 'incident' you mean Mika actually smiling before 7 AM, then yes, there was a huge catastrophe."

Adrian set the tablet down. His eyes were cold, but there was a flicker of something-frustration, perhaps-in the depths of his gaze. "Hadi tells me she was covered in paint. He also says you encouraged her to break her morning routine."

"The routine is suffocating her, Adrian," Liana said, using his first name intentionally.

He stiffened. "Mr. Dirgantara to you."

"Adrian," she repeated, leaning in. "You're paying me to look after her well-being. Well, I'm telling you, as someone who actually has a heart that beats, that your daughter is lonely. She's bored. And she's terrified of making a mistake. Is that the kind of 'Dirgantara' you want to raise? A robot?"

Adrian leaned forward, his presence suddenly overwhelming. The smell of his cologne-expensive, woodsy, and cold-filled her senses. "I am raising a woman who will be able to lead an empire. The world doesn't care about 'smiles' and 'paint,' Liana. It cares about discipline and results. My wife... Mika's mother... she was soft. And the world broke her. I will not let that happen to my daughter."

Liana's heart skipped a beat. It was the first time he had mentioned his late wife. The bitterness in his voice was thick, like an old wound that had never been cleaned.

"So your plan is to break her yourself before the world gets a chance?" Liana asked softly.

The silence that followed was deafening. Adrian's jaw tightened so hard a muscle pulsed in his cheek. For a moment, Liana thought he was going to fire her on the spot. She braced herself for the explosion.

Instead, he stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the marble. "Take her to school. If she is a minute late because she was 'finding herself' in a paint tube, you're done. Do you understand?"

"Crystal clear," Liana said, watching him walk away.

The school run was a somber affair. Mika sat in the back of the car, staring out the window. Liana tried to make conversation, but the girl seemed to have retreated back into her shell after the morning's confrontation.

"Hey," Liana said, reaching over to squeeze Mika's hand. "Don't worry about Hadi. Or your dad. We're going to have fun this afternoon, okay? I have a surprise."

Mika looked at her, a tiny glimmer of hope returning. "A surprise?"

"A big one. But you have to promise to be the best student in class today. Deal?"

"Deal," Mika whispered.

After dropping Mika off, Liana didn't go back to the house. She had a few hours of freedom, and she had a plan. She went to a local hardware store and a discount craft shop. She used the last of the cash she had saved from her mother's secret "emergency jar." It wasn't much, but it was enough for what she needed.

When she returned to the estate at 2 PM, she bypassed Hadi and went straight to the backyard. There was a small, shaded area behind the guest house that was barely used. It was overgrown and messy-the only part of the estate that didn't look like a surgical suite.

She spent the next hour hauling old wooden pallets she found behind the garage and laying them out. ВShe spread out a giant plastic tarp and mixed buckets of water with cheap, washable neon paints.

By the time the car brought Mika back from school, the "surprise" was ready.

"What are we doing, Liana?" Mika asked, her eyes going wide as she saw the buckets of neon colors.

"We are going to do something your father hates," Liana said, handing Mika a pair of old oversized T-shirts she had bought. "We're going to make a mess. A massive, beautiful, unorganized mess."

For the next two hours, the backyard was filled with the sound of laughter-real, belly-shaking laughter. They didn't use brushes. They used their hands, their feet, and even sponges to hurl paint at a giant roll of paper Liana had tacked to the pallets. Mika was covered from head to toe in neon pink and green. She looked like a tiny, joyful alien.

Liana was right there with her, her own face streaked with orange. She felt alive. For the first time since her mother's funeral, for the first time since the disaster with Raka, she felt like Liana again.

But then, the shadow fell over them.

Liana didn't have to look up to know who it was. The air around them suddenly felt twenty degrees colder.

Adrian stood at the edge of the grass, his arms crossed over his chest. He was wearing a black trench coat over his suit, looking like a dark omen. Behind him, Hadi was whispering frantically, gesturing at the neon-splattered grass.

"Daddy! Look!" Mika shouted, running toward him, her hands dripping with bright green paint. "Look at what I made! It's a dragon! Or maybe it's a forest! Liana said it can be whatever I want!"

Mika reached out to grab her father's coat, her paint-covered fingers inches away from the expensive fabric.

"Mika, stay back!" Adrian barked.

The girl stopped dead. The joy vanished from her face so fast it was physically painful to watch. She looked down at her hands, then at her father's pristine coat, and her lip started to tremble.

Liana stepped forward, wiping her hands on her shirt, though it did little to help. "She just wanted to show you, Adrian. It's just paint. It'll wash off."

"This is unacceptable," Adrian said, his voice vibrating with a quiet, intense rage. He wasn't looking at Mika anymore; his eyes were locked on Liana. "I gave you a chance. I gave you rules. And you decided to turn my home into a playground for your vanity."

"Vanity? Look at her!" Liana pointed at Mika. "She's happy! When was the last time you saw her this happy? When was the last time she wasn't afraid to breathe in her own house?"

"Enough!" Adrian stepped onto the tarp, his leather shoes squelching in a puddle of blue paint. He didn't seem to care. He grabbed Liana's arm, his grip firm and hot. "Hadi, take Mika inside. Clean her up. Throw those clothes away."

"No! Liana!" Mika cried as Hadi led her away.

Liana tried to pull her arm back, but Adrian didn't let go. He pulled her closer, his face inches from hers. She could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes, and for a moment, the anger between them felt like something else-something electric and terrifying.

"You think you're so smart," he hissed. "You think you can come in here and 'fix' us because you have a tragic backstory and a paintbox. You know nothing about this family. You know nothing about what I've lost."

"Then tell me!" Liana challenged, her heart thudding in her throat. "Tell me why you're so scared of a little girl having fun! Tell me why you've turned this house into a prison!"

Adrian's grip tightened for a second, then he abruptly let go, pushing her away as if she were a flame that had just burned him. He looked down at his shoes, now ruined by the blue paint.

"You're a child playing at being an adult, Liana," he said, his voice suddenly cold and distant again. "You want to make me 'bertekuk lutut'? You want to make me fall in love? I've seen the way you look at me. You think you're the heroine of a romance novel."

Liana flinched. She hadn't realized her intentions were that transparent.

"Let me tell you something," Adrian continued, stepping off the tarp. "I don't have a heart for you to win. It died a long time ago. You are here for Mika. If you ever-ever-cross the line again, I don't care how much she cries. You will be out on the street before the paint dries."

He turned and walked away, his footsteps heavy on the grass.

Liana stood alone in the middle of the neon mess, the cold evening air beginning to bite. She was covered in paint, she was exhausted, and she had just been humiliated. But as she looked at the giant, messy "dragon" Mika had painted, she didn't feel like giving up.

She saw the way his hand had trembled when he let go of her arm. He wasn't indifferent. He was terrified.

"You're wrong, Adrian," she whispered to the empty backyard. "You do have a heart. And I've already found the crack in it."

She began to pack up the buckets, her mind already moving to the next day. She had to find a way to get past his defenses without getting herself fired. She had to find out what happened to Mika's mother. And most importantly, she had to show Adrian that some messes were worth making.

As she walked back toward the house, she saw a light on in Mika's room. The girl was looking out the window, her hand pressed against the glass. Liana blew her a kiss, and Mika tentatively blew one back.

The war wasn't over. It was just getting started. And Liana was no longer just a "placeholder." She was a threat.

She entered the house through the back door, heading for the showers. But as she passed the library, she saw the door was open again. Adrian was sitting there, staring at his ruined shoes. He didn't see her. He looked older, tired, and deeply, profoundly alone.

Liana didn't stop. She kept walking. She had to stay strong. To make a man like Adrian Dirgantara fall, she couldn't afford to feel sorry for him. Not yet.

She spent the night cleaning the paint from under her fingernails, the neon colors swirling down the drain like a fading dream. Tomorrow would be Bab 5. Tomorrow, she would start looking for the truth.