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.

The house was deathly quiet the next morning, but it was a different kind of quiet. It wasn't the peaceful silence of a sleeping home; it was the heavy, suffocating pressure that comes right before a storm breaks. Liana didn't go to the sunroom at 5 AM. Her body was too sore, and her mind was too busy replaying the look in Adrian's eyes from the night before. Instead, she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if she had pushed him too far.

By 7:30 AM, she was downstairs. She expected to see a sea of blue paint stains on the carpet or perhaps a moving van waiting to take her things away. But the house was spotless. The staff had worked through the night to erase every trace of her "neon dragon." Even the grass in the backyard had been hosed down until it looked like a green plastic sheet again.

Adrian was already gone. No breakfast, no lecture, no cold glares. Just a note left on the dining table in his sharp, jagged handwriting.

*'Mika has a doctor's appointment at 10 AM. Ensure she is dressed appropriately. No paint. No distractions. - A.D.'*

Liana crumpled the note in her hand. "Appropriately," she muttered. "He means like a doll."

She found Mika in her bedroom, sitting on the edge of her bed while a maid struggled to brush the knots out of her hair. The girl's eyes were red-puffy. She looked like she had been crying in secret.

"Hey, kiddo," Liana said, gently taking the brush from the maid. "I've got this. You can go help with the laundry."

The maid looked relieved and scrambled out of the room. Liana sat behind Mika and started brushing with a tenderness that made the little girl lean back into her.

"Is Daddy going to send you away?" Mika whispered, her voice cracking. "Hadi said you were in big trouble. He said I shouldn't have played with the paint."

"Hadi talks too much," Liana said, her heart aching. "Nobody is sending me anywhere, Mika. Your dad and I just have... different ways of seeing the world. But I'm staying right here. I promise."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart."

They spent the morning at the pediatrician's office, a high-end clinic that felt more like a spa for rich children. Mika was healthy, but the doctor kept talking about her "stress levels" and her "lack of social engagement." Liana listened, her jaw tightening. Adrian was so focused on building an empress that he was crumbling the child underneath.

When they got back to the estate, Mika was exhausted and fell asleep in the car. Liana carried her up to her room, tucked her in, and then found herself standing in the hallway, looking at the heavy oak doors of Adrian's private study.

She knew she shouldn't. She knew it was the fastest way to get fired. But the mystery of the "Ice Architect" was starting to pull at her more than her own desire for safety. Why was he like this? What had happened to the "soft" wife he mentioned?

The door wasn't locked. Liana pushed it open, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

The library was dim, the air smelling of old paper and expensive leather. It was the only room in the house that didn't feel like a hospital wing. Books lined the walls from floor to ceiling-thick volumes on architecture, philosophy, and law. Liana walked toward the desk, her sneakers silent on the thick Persian rug.

She saw the blueprints spread out, the sharp lines of a new skyscraper Adrian was designing. But her eyes were drawn to the bottom drawer of the desk, which was slightly ajar.

She hesitated. *Go back, Liana. Just go back to your room.* But she didn't. She knelt down and pulled the drawer open.

Inside wasn't business documents or secret contracts. It was a stack of old sketches. Liana's breath caught in her throat. She picked them up, her fingers trembling. They weren't blueprints. They were drawings of a woman. A woman with long, flowing hair and a smile that seemed to light up the charcoal paper.

They were beautiful. They were full of life, passion, and a deep, aching love. And the signature at the bottom of each one made her blood run cold.

*Adrian.*

The "Ice Architect" wasn't just a builder; he was an artist. Or he had been. The sketches were dated seven years ago-right before Mika was born. As she flipped through them, she found one that was different. It was a sketch of the same woman, but she looked pale, her eyes hollow. And tucked behind it was a photograph.

Liana pulled it out. It was a picture of Adrian and a beautiful woman sitting in a garden that looked suspiciously like the one outside. But Adrian wasn't the man she knew. He was laughing. His head was thrown back, his eyes crinkling with joy, his arm wrapped tightly around the woman. He looked... happy. Truly, deeply happy.

"What are you doing in here?"

Liana jumped so hard she dropped the photograph. She spun around to find Adrian standing in the doorway. He wasn't wearing his coat anymore, just his white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looked exhausted, his hair messy, but the moment he saw what was in her hand, his face went from tired to murderous.

He was across the room in three long strides. He grabbed her wrist, his grip so tight it made her wince.

"Who gave you permission to touch my things?" he hissed, his voice trembling with a rage that was far more terrifying than his usual coldness.

"The door was open, Adrian-"

"Get out!" he roared, snatching the photograph from the floor. He looked at it for a split second, his expression flickering with a pain so raw it made Liana's own heart break. Then he shoved the photo back into the drawer and slammed it shut with a bang that echoed like a gunshot.

"I'm sorry," Liana said, her voice small but steady. "I didn't mean to pry. I just... I wanted to understand."

"Understand what? That I have a past? That I'm not the monster you want me to be?" Adrian stepped closer, his chest heaving. He looked like a man who was about to shatter into a million pieces. "You have no right to come in here and dig up things that are buried. You are an employee, Liana. Nothing more."

"You were an artist," Liana said, ignoring his anger. She pointed at the desk. "Those sketches... they're full of love. You didn't just build buildings, Adrian. You built a life. Why did you stop?"

"Because that life killed her!" Adrian shouted.

The silence that followed was absolute. Adrian looked shocked that the words had even left his mouth. He turned away, his hands shaking as he leaned against the desk.

"She was a painter. Like you," he said, his voice now a hollow whisper. "She saw the world in colors. She didn't care about the business or the name. She just wanted to create. And she was so happy when she was pregnant with Mika. But her heart... it wasn't strong enough. The doctors told her to stop. To rest. But she wouldn't. She said she had to finish her masterpiece for the baby."

Liana felt a lump in her throat. She moved toward him, cautiously, like one might approach a wounded animal.

"She died three days after Mika was born," Adrian continued, his back still to her. "I realized then that 'softness' and 'art' and 'joy' are just illusions. They're weaknesses that let the world in so it can hurt you. So I buried it. I buried her paintings, I buried my sketches, and I promised I would make Mika strong enough so she never, ever ends up like her mother."

Liana reached out and tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn't pull away this time.

"Strength isn't about building walls, Adrian," she said softly. "It's about being able to stand in the rain without breaking. You're not protecting Mika. You're just making her live in the same dark room you've locked yourself in. Is that what your wife would have wanted? For her daughter to never know what a 'neon dragon' looks like?"

Adrian finally turned to look at her. The ice was gone. In its place was a man who was drowning in seven years of unshed tears. He looked at Liana-really looked at her-and for the first time, he didn't see a "placeholder." He saw a woman who was brave enough to stare back at his demons.

He reached up, his hand hovering near her face. His fingers brushed against a stray lock of her hair, his touch so light it was almost non-existent.

"You look so much like her when you're angry," he whispered.

Liana didn't move. She couldn't breathe. The air between them was thick with a tension that was no longer about hate or rules. It was the sound of a wall cracking.

But then, the spell broke. Adrian's eyes cleared, and he pulled his hand back as if he had touched a hot stove. He straightened his shirt, the mask of the Ice Architect sliding back into place, though it didn't fit quite as well as before.

"Go to your room, Liana," he said, his voice flat. "Mika's French tutor will be here in ten minutes. Make sure she's ready."

"Adrian-"

"Go. Before I change my mind about letting you stay."

Liana knew when to push and when to retreat. She nodded slowly and walked toward the door. But as she reached the threshold, she stopped and looked back.

"You can hide the sketches, Adrian. You can paint over the grass. But you can't erase the fact that you still care. That's your real masterpiece. And I'm going to make sure you finish it."

She left the room, her heart racing. She had found the wound. Now, she just had to figure out how to heal it without getting herself destroyed in the process.

As she walked down the hall, she saw Hadi watching her from the shadows. The butler looked worried-not for the house, but for the man inside the library. Liana gave him a small, knowing nod.

She went to Mika's room and found the girl waiting by the door.

"Is Daddy still mad?" Mika asked.

Liana smiled and knelt down, pulling the girl into a hug. "No, sweetie. I think your daddy is just starting to wake up. And waking up is always a little bit grumpy."

That night, Liana didn't paint the dark ocean. She took a fresh canvas and painted a single, small yellow flower growing out of a crack in a grey stone wall. It was simple, and it was small, but it was there.