The Runaway's Revenge

The smell of expensive jasmine lilies filled the room, a scent that was supposed to represent purity and new beginnings. But for Liana, it felt like the smell of a funeral. She sat in front of the vanity mirror, staring at her own reflection. The white lace of her wedding dress felt heavy, like a cage made of silk and beads. She was twenty-one, an age where her friends were busy chasing internships or traveling the world, yet here she was, wearing a ring that felt like a shackle.

"It's for Mom, Liana. Just for Mom," she whispered to herself. Her voice trembled, barely audible over the distant sound of the wedding reception music downstairs.

Her mother's dying wish had been simple yet suffocating: "Marry Raka, Liana. His family will protect you. I can't leave you alone in this world." Liana, ever the dutiful daughter, had swallowed her dreams of moving to Florence to study fine arts. She had traded her paintbrushes for a marriage certificate.

She thought Raka was a decent man. He was charming in a rehearsed way, always saying the right things when their parents were watching. She truly believed that even if love wasn't there yet, safety would be. She expected a protector. She expected a home.

The door clicked open. Liana turned, expecting a bridesmaid or her new mother-in-law. Instead, she saw Raka. He wasn't wearing his tuxedo jacket anymore. His tie was loosened, and his eyes looked glassy, bored.

"The guests are asking for the bride," he said, leaning against the doorframe. He didn't look at her with admiration. He looked at her like a piece of furniture he had just purchased and wasn't sure where to put.

"I just needed a moment, Raka. It's... it's a lot to take in," Liana replied, trying to offer a small smile.

Raka chuckled, a dry, mocking sound. "Don't get all dramatic on me, Liana. We did the ceremony, the papers are signed. Just come downstairs, smile for the cameras, and then you can go back to being the quiet little doll my mother wanted."

He didn't wait for her answer. He turned and walked away, leaving a cold draft in the room. Liana felt a shiver run down her spine. A week. She just had to get through the first week, and maybe they would find a rhythm.

But the rhythm she found was a nightmare.

Fast forward six days. The honeymoon phase didn't exist. Raka was barely home, claiming "work emergencies" at his father's firm. The sprawling house they lived in felt haunted. Liana spent her days wandering the cold hallways, her art supplies still packed in cardboard boxes in the corner of the guest room-the room she had been sleeping in because Raka claimed he "snored too loudly" and didn't want to disturb her.

It was a Tuesday afternoon. A heavy rain was drumming against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the mansion. Liana was heading to the kitchen to make some tea when she noticed something strange. The door to the laundry suite, usually tucked away near the back stairs, was slightly ajar.

She heard a giggle. It wasn't a sound of a worker doing chores. It was high-pitched, flirtatious. Then came a man's voice-a voice she recognized all too well.

"Careful, Maya. If the 'little princess' hears you, we're in trouble," Raka's voice drifted through the gap.

Liana's heart stopped. Her breath hitched in her throat, feeling like she had swallowed glass. She moved closer, her hand trembling as she pushed the door just an inch further.

The sight inside burned itself into her retina. Raka was there, his hands wrapped around Maya, the young maid who had been hired just two weeks before the wedding. They weren't just talking. The intimacy, the way they looked at each other-it wasn't new. It was practiced. It was old.

"She won't hear anything," Maya whispered, leaning into him. "She's too busy playing the mourning daughter in her room. Why did you even marry that boring girl, Raka? You promised me it would just be us."

Raka pulled her closer, kissing her neck with a passion he had never shown Liana. "You know why. My father's will was tied to that old woman's friendship. If I didn't marry Liana, I'd lose the CEO chair. It's just business, babe. She's just a placeholder. You're the one I actually want in my bed."

Liana felt the world tilt. The "protection" her mother promised was a lie. Her marriage was a business transaction for a man who disgusted her. She didn't cry-not yet. Instead, a cold, sharp clarity washed over her. She had sacrificed her entire life, her passion, and her future for a man who saw her as a "placeholder."

She stepped back, her heels clicking softly on the marble. She didn't hide. She pushed the door wide open.

The two of them jumped apart. Maya scrambled to straighten her uniform, her face turning pale. Raka, however, didn't look guilty. He looked annoyed. He straightened his shirt, staring at Liana with eyes that were as cold as stone.

"Liana. You should learn to knock," he said, his voice devoid of any apology.

"A placeholder?" Liana's voice was steady, surprisingly sharp. "Is that all I am? While you roll around with the help in the house my mother helped your father build?"

Raka rolled his eyes. "Oh, cut the melodrama. You have the house, you have the credit cards, and you have the family name. Just go back upstairs and pretend you didn't see anything. We can keep this civil as long as you stay out of my business."

"Civil?" Liana took a step forward. "There is nothing civil about this, Raka. This isn't a marriage. It's a joke."

"It's a contract," Raka snapped. "And you're not going anywhere. What are you going to do? Run away? You have no money, no parents left, and no career. You're a 21-year-old girl with a half-finished portfolio. You need me."

Liana looked at him-really looked at him-and realized she didn't recognize the man she had promised to spend her life with. Or maybe, she finally saw him for exactly who he was.

"I'd rather be a beggar on the street than your 'placeholder'," Liana said. She reached for her finger, tugging at the diamond ring that felt like a parasite. It was tight, stubborn, but she pulled until her skin was raw. She threw it on the floor. It made a pathetic clink sound as it rolled toward Maya's feet.

"Keep it," Liana said to the maid, who was trembling. "It's as fake as he is."

She turned on her heel and walked away. Raka shouted after her, his voice echoing in the hollow hallway, calling her ungrateful, calling her a fool. But Liana didn't stop. She went to the guest room, grabbed her backpack and the one box of paints she hadn't unpacked, and walked out into the pouring rain.

She had no plan. She had no home. She was a widow of a living marriage, a divorcée before she had even reached her first anniversary.

She walked for what felt like hours, her thin sweater soaked through. The neon lights of the city blurred into streaks of color. Eventually, her legs gave out near a high-end shopping plaza. She sat on a stone bench, shivering, her box of paints clutched to her chest like a shield.

"Mom... I tried," she sobbed into her knees. "I tried so hard."

"Excuse me?"

A small, soft voice broke through her crying. Liana looked up, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Standing in front of her was a little girl, maybe five or six years old. She had long, dark hair and was wearing a bright yellow raincoat. She was holding a stuffed rabbit that looked just as wet as Liana.

"Are you a princess?" the little girl asked, her eyes wide with curiosity. "You look like the sad princess in my book. The one who lost her castle."

Liana tried to choke back a laugh that sounded more like a sob. "I'm not a princess, sweetie. I think... I think I'm just lost."

"Mika! I told you not to run off!"

A deep, commanding voice boomed from behind the girl. Liana looked up and saw a man approaching. He was tall, dressed in a sharp charcoal suit that screamed power, even with a black umbrella held over his head. His face was chiseled, handsome in a way that felt intimidating, but his expression was as cold as a winter morning in the mountains.

This was Adrian Dirgantara. Even in her mess of a life, Liana recognized the face from business magazines. The man they called the "Ice Architect."

Adrian stopped in his tracks when he saw Liana sitting on the bench, soaked to the bone, looking like a drowned bird. His eyes flicked from Liana to his daughter, Mika, who was now standing right next to the stranger.

"Mika, come here. Now," Adrian said, his voice like a whip.

"But Daddy, she's crying! And she has paints! Look!" Mika pointed at Liana's box.

Adrian looked at Liana again. There was no pity in his eyes, only a cold, analytical gaze. He looked at her wet clothes, her messy hair, and the way she held onto her art supplies like they were worth more than gold. To him, she looked like trouble. She looked like a distraction.

"I'm sorry if she bothered you," Adrian said to Liana, his tone incredibly stiff and formal. He didn't ask if she was okay. He didn't offer his umbrella. He simply grabbed Mika's hand. "Let's go, Mika. We're late."

"No! I want to stay with the paint lady!" Mika protested, her little shoes splashing in the puddles. She suddenly broke free from her father's grip and hugged Liana's leg. "Don't be sad, paint lady. My Daddy is rich, he can buy you a new castle!"

Adrian's face darkened. He looked at Liana with a mix of annoyance and something else-a flash of frustration. "I apologize for my daughter's behavior. She's... overly imaginative."

Liana looked up at the man, her own eyes red and swollen, but her spirit wasn't entirely broken. "She's just being kind," Liana said, her voice shaking from the cold. "Maybe you should try it sometime."

Adrian froze. Nobody spoke to him like that. Not his employees, not his rivals, and certainly not a girl who looked like she had just crawled out of a river. He stared at her for a long moment, his jaw tightening.

"Kindness doesn't get you far in this city," Adrian snapped. He pulled Mika back, more firmly this time. "Come. Now."

As they walked away toward a waiting black limousine, Mika kept looking back, waving her hand. Liana watched them go, feeling the cold seep into her bones. She didn't know then that this wasn't the last she'd see of the man with the frozen heart.

She didn't know that the little girl in the yellow raincoat had just decided who her new mother was going to be.

Liana stood up, her muscles aching. She looked at the limousine disappearing into the traffic. She had lost everything today-her mother's house, her husband, her reputation. But as she looked at her paint box, she realized she still had the one thing Raka couldn't take. She had her name. And she had her pride.

The rain started to thin out, but the air remained freezing. Liana began to walk again, not toward the past, but toward a future she couldn't yet see. A future where she would have to face a man even more difficult than the one she had left-a man who didn't believe in love, and a man she was determined to change.

But first, she had to survive the night.

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.