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.

The truce between Liana and Adrian was fragile, like a thin layer of ice over a deep, turbulent lake. For three days, they existed in a state of polite distance. Adrian didn't snap at her for changing Mika's snack to apples and peanut butter, and Liana didn't comment on the fact that he was actually home for dinner by 7 PM. But the air in the Dirgantara estate was still thick with everything they hadn't said.

Liana was in the kitchen, helping Mika with a drawing of a ladybug, when the front gates buzzed. Usually, visitors were pre-approved by a three-page security protocol, but the gates swung open immediately. A silver sports car roared up the driveway, its engine echoing through the quiet halls.

Hadi straightened his jacket, his face shifting from neutral to visibly anxious. "Miss Liana, please take the young mistress to the playroom. Now."

"Who is it, Hadi? The President?" Liana teased, though she felt a knot of dread in her stomach.

"It's Miss Clarissa," Hadi whispered, as if saying the name might summon a demon. "Master Adrian's sister. And she... she does not like surprises."

Liana didn't move fast enough. Before she could grab Mika's hand, the front doors burst open. A woman stepped in, smelling of Chanel No. 5 and expensive cigarettes. She was draped in a trench coat that probably cost more than Liana's college tuition, and her hair was pulled back into a bun so tight it looked painful.

"Hadi! Why is the foyer smelling like... is that fried garlic? Good God, this place is falling apart," the woman snapped, stripping off her gloves and tossing them toward the butler without looking.

Her eyes swept the room and landed on Liana and Mika. Her gaze sharpened, turning into ice.

"And who is this?" Clarissa asked, her voice dropping into a dangerous, melodic tone. "Mika, darling, come give your Auntie a kiss. And tell me why this girl is wearing paint-stained jeans in your father's house."

Mika shrunk back, clutching Liana's leg. "This is Liana, Auntie. She's my... she helps me."

Clarissa stepped closer, her heels clicking like a countdown. She circled Liana, inspecting her like a piece of questionable meat at a market. "Liana? Ah. The 'nanny' Adrian mentioned in passing. He said he hired a professional. You don't look professional. You look like you've been living in a squat."

"I'm an artist, Miss Dirgantara," Liana said, her voice steady despite the way her heart was racing. "I'm here to care for Mika's well-being. And currently, her well-being involves finishing this drawing."

Clarissa laughed, a cold, sharp sound. "An artist. How quaint. Adrian always did have a weakness for the 'starving soul' type. It's a pity it usually ends in disaster." She leaned in, her eyes narrowing. "Wait. I know that face. I was wondering why you looked familiar. You're the Maharani girl, aren't you? The one who made a fool of herself with that Raka boy last week?"

Liana felt the blood drain from her face. The scandal. It was only a week ago, but in the world of the elite, gossip moved faster than light.

"I didn't make a fool of myself," Liana said through gritted teeth. "I left a cheating husband. There's a difference."

"A divorcée. A scandalous one, at that. Not even a week into the marriage and you're already in another man's house, playing mother to a Dirgantara heir?" Clarissa turned toward the hallway. "ADRIAN! Get out here this instant!"

Adrian appeared at the top of the stairs. He looked down at the scene, his expression unreadable. "Clarissa. I didn't know you were coming."

"Clearly! Otherwise, you might have cleaned out the trash before I arrived," Clarissa shouted, pointing a manicured finger at Liana. "Do you have any idea who this girl is? Her name is all over the club circuits. She's a disgraced bride. Raka's family is telling everyone she had a mental breakdown and ran off because she couldn't handle the 'responsibilities' of marriage. And you brought her here? Near Mika?"

Adrian walked down the stairs slowly, his eyes locked on Liana's. Liana felt exposed, raw. She waited for him to agree. She waited for the "Ice Architect" to decide that a scandalous nanny was bad for business.

"I know exactly who she is, Clarissa," Adrian said, his voice calm and terrifyingly quiet.

"Then fire her! Think of the PR, Adrian! If the board finds out you've hired a runaway bride to raise the next CEO of Dirgantara Group, they'll have your head."

Adrian stepped between his sister and Liana. It was a subtle move, but it felt like a mountain moving in front of her. "The board doesn't run my house. And Raka is a boy who plays with toys. Liana is the first person who has made Mika laugh in two years. That is her only job description."

Clarissa gasped. "You're defending her? After what happened to Sofia? You're letting another... another *dreamer* into this house?"

"Enough," Adrian barked. The word echoed through the marble foyer. "Liana, take Mika to the garden. Clarissa, my office. Now."

Liana didn't wait. She scooped Mika up and practically ran toward the back door. She didn't stop until they were at the very edge of the property, near the old stone wall. Her hands were shaking. The shame she thought she had buried was bubbling back up. *A disgraced bride. A scandal.*

"Liana? Are you crying?" Mika asked, tugging at her shirt.

Liana wiped her eyes quickly. "No, sweetie. Just the wind. Come on, let's find some ladybugs."

But she couldn't focus. All she could think about was Adrian. Why did he defend her? Was it just because he hated being told what to do by his sister, or was there something else? And how long could she stay here if her past kept following her like a shadow?

An hour later, the silver sports car screeched out of the driveway. The house returned to its tomb-like silence. Liana walked back inside, expecting to find her bags packed by the door. Instead, she found Adrian sitting in the living room, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He was staring at the wall where a large, empty space hung-the place where Sofia's paintings used to be.

"She's gone," he said, without looking at her.

"I'm sorry about the trouble," Liana said, standing in the doorway. "She's right about the gossip. Raka's family has a lot of influence. I don't want to be a liability to you."

Adrian turned his head. His eyes were bloodshot. "Raka is a coward. He spreads lies to cover his own filth. I don't care about his family, and I don't care about the gossip. But..." He paused, taking a sip of his drink. "My sister is right about one thing. This house doesn't handle 'scandal' well."

"Then why did you tell her to leave?"

Adrian stood up and walked toward her. He stopped just a few inches away, close enough that Liana could feel the heat radiating from him. "Because when you looked at her, you didn't look ashamed. You looked angry. I like anger. It's honest."

He reached out, his hand pausing for a second before he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was lingering this time, his thumb grazing the line of her jaw. Liana felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her, making her breath hitch.

"Don't make me regret defending you, Liana," he whispered.

"I won't," she promised, her voice barely a whisper.

"Good. Because tomorrow, we have a foundation gala. Clarissa will be there. Raka will be there. And you," he said, his gaze intensifying, "will be on my arm."

Liana's heart nearly stopped. "What? As the nanny?"

Adrian's mouth twisted into a ghost of a smirk-the first real one she had seen. "No. As my guest. If we want to kill the scandal, we don't hide from it. We crush it. You wanted to make me bertekuk lutut, didn't you? Well, here is your stage. Don't trip."

He walked past her, leaving the scent of bourbon and defiance in the air.

Liana stood in the dark hallway, her mind racing. A gala. With Raka. With the elite who had laughed at her. It was a trap, or a test, or a declaration of war. Maybe it was all three.

She went to her studio and looked at the painting of the yellow flower. It looked small and lonely. She picked up a brush and began to add thorns to the stem-sharp, dark, and strong.

"I won't trip, Adrian," she said to the darkness. "But you might want to watch your own step."

She knew that the gala would change everything. It was no longer about a secret deal or a little girl's happiness. It was about stepping into the light as someone new. No longer the girl who postponed her dreams, but the woman who was about to set the "Ice Architect's" world on fire.

As she prepared for the night, she realized that the coldness of the house was finally starting to break. But she didn't know if she was ready for the heat that was coming.