The Runaway's Revenge

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.