The Runaway's Revenge

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.