Four months passed, and Luca had vanished without a trace.
Kieran had turned the city upside down, trying to find the man. He dug into every lead, used every connection, even pulled strings in places most men wouldn't dare. Yet Luca remained a ghost.
Through Henry Moretti's network, whispers finally reached him that Luca was hiding abroad. Kieran had wanted to leave immediately, hunt him down, and end this unfinished chapter with his own hands. But Henry stopped him.
"No reckless moves outside our territory," his father had said firmly. "Business first. Don't invite unnecessary wars."
Kieran had dropped the plan outwardly, but not in his heart. Quietly, he assigned a small team to keep looking. No matter how long it took, he would end Luca.
On the other hand, Alena was healing slowly, stubbornly. Her body carried its scars, but her soul was finding colors again. She had discovered painting, and when she wasn't painting, she curled up on the couch with books from Kieran's private library, which he had opened to her after she confessed how bored she felt.
Most of the time, she was sitting in front of her canvas with brushes in hand. Her room smelled faintly of paint these days, and her clothes had become walking canvases of their own.
That morning, she was immersed in colors and thoughts, tongue caught between her lips as she painted. The door knocked lightly.
"Come in," she said, not taking her eyes off the canvas.
It was Aiden. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Boss asked if you need anything."
Alena looked over her shoulder and smiled. "Nothing for now."
"You sure?" His voice was flat, unbothered, yet peeking at her canvas.
She nodded. "Yes. If I need something, I'll tell."
Aiden gave a short nod and left. She chuckled to herself, shaking her head as she turned back to the canvas.
By evening, Alena let out a dramatic sigh. She had run out of a few colours.
"Really, Alena," she muttered to herself. "You should have checked earlier. Now you've gone and ruined your flow."
She bit on her lip, glancing at her half-finished work. Then at the door. Then back at the canvas. Hesitant about how to ask.
Finally, she sighed and walked out of the room, her dress messy, streaked in reds and blues. Paint smeared her cheeks and nose, even a few strands of hair. She looked like she'd lost a fight with a rainbow.
She spotted Aiden in the courtyard, giving instructions to the guards. Gathering her courage, she walked up..
One of the guards noticed first. "Sir—"
Aiden turned. His brows furrowed at the sight of her. "What? You need something?" Aiden asked flatly.
Alena hesitated, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. "Actually…"
"Actually…?" he repeated, impatient.
"Actually, I ran out of a few colours. I… I need some." She rushed the words out in one breath.
Aiden exhaled through his nose. His gaze swept her from head to toe, unimpressed. "Tell me one thing, what do you even do with those paints? I bought you so many last time. Now they're gone? Do you eat them or what?"
Her shoulders drooped, Lips sticking out a little. "Why would I eat them? I paint."
He gave her a look. "Paint? More like you bathe in them. There are more colors on you than on your canvas."
Her pout deepened. She didn't argue.
He sighed again. "Fine. Show me a proper painting. If it's worth it, I'll get you whatever you want."
"I tried many," she admitted genuinely. "But they're not that good. I'm still learning," her head hung lower.
"Learning or wasting time?" he shot back.
Before she could protest, a deep voice cut in.
"What's going on here?"
They both turned. Kieran was walking toward them, eyes narrowing slightly at the scene.
Alena froze, while Aiden straightened.
Kieran's gaze softened the moment it landed on her. "What happened? Why are you here, Alena? And—" he laughed under his breath, "—what's with your dress?"
Alena said nervously. "I was painting… and ran out of colors. So I came to ask Aiden."
Her hesitant tone only made her sound cuter. Kieran's lips twitched upward. "That's it? But why do you two look like you've been caught committing a crime?"
She opened her mouth, but Aiden cut in quickly, "I told her I'll get her whatever she wants."
Alena whipped her head toward him, eyes wide. "You—"
Kieran chuckled. "Fine. Get her some new sets. Anything else, Alena?"
Her eyes lit up, smiling brightly. "Some sketchbooks and color pens!"
Kieran ruffled her hair affectionately. "You heard her, Aiden. Get her whatever she wants."
Aiden muttered something under his breath, but said aloud, "Yes, boss. I'll get them tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" Alena's face fell. "But I need them now. My painting's half-finished."
Kieran raised a brow. "Get them now, Aiden."
The glare Aiden threw at Alena could've set her canvas on fire. But he only muttered, "Yes, boss," before walking off.
When he was gone, Kieran turned back to her. "So… how's the painting journey going?"
Alena smiled, excitement chasing away her hesitation. "It's good. I've been learning new techniques, watching videos, trying different styles."
"Really?" His lips curved into a soft smile.
She nodded eagerly.
"Then show me the masterpieces you created," he teased.
Her smile grew. "Come, I'll show you."
They walked back to her room. She hurried ahead, pulling out canvas after canvas, stacking them on the couch. Kieran sat down, watching her with amusement.
She handed them over one by one. Some were messy, others dark, and a few were almost childishly cute. She had tried out every style.
He chuckled at some and praised others, but when his eyes lingered on the darker ones, his chest tightened. Those weren't just paintings. They were her scars painted in colors.
His heart warmed seeing her healing like this, finding expression, letting the past bleed onto canvas while reaching for something brighter.
When he looked up, she was watching him expectantly.
"Good job, Alena, I'm proud of you." He said with a proud smile.
She smiled, almost flustered.
"Basically," he said softly, "you're on your way to creating masterpieces."
Her lips curved. "I don't know about that. But I'm trying."
"Good," he murmured. "Keep trying. Keep exploring."
She nodded, cheeks faintly flushed.
Before he could say more, his phone buzzed. It was a Business call. He sighed, excusing himself to take the call outside.
Alena watched him leave, warmth blooming in her chest. She felt… noticed. Valued. Appreciated, Excitement stirred inside her. She turned back to her half-done painting, picked up her brush, and continued again.
After a while, a knock pulled her out of focus.
"Aiden?"
Aiden stood at the door, arms loaded with supplies, paints, sketchbooks, and even extras she hadn't asked for.
Her face lit up. "You brought it already?"
He grumbled under his breath.
"Come inside," she said cheerfully.
"Take it, or else I'll throw it away," he threatened her half-heartedly.
She smirked. "Oh, really? Should I tell your boss?"
He shot her a glare, then walked inside, muttering under his breath, and set the things on her table.
His eyes landed on her canvas. He paused for a second, staring.
"Is it good?" she asked softly.
"Not really." He said, not admitting.
She chuckled. "Ohh, Come on. Be honest."
He gave her a deadpan look. "Well… kind of. At least my money didn't go to waste."
She gasped in mock offense. "Oh, just admit it. My paintings are good."
Aiden ignored her, eyes catching the pile of canvases on the couch. He walked over, flipping through them one by one. His expression didn't change much, but the longer he looked, the slower he turned the pages.
Aiden asked, "These are done by you?"
Alena smiled, "Yes."
She asked, "Is it good?"
"They're… oddly decent," he muttered finally. "Attractive, Color combinations are soothing."
Her grin widened. "See? Proof I don't eat the paints."
He coughed and got up from the couch, turning away quickly. "I have important things to do. If you need something, let me know."
And with that, he practically ran out of the room.
Alena laughed softly, shaking her head as she dipped her brush back into the paint. Her heart felt lighter. She was healing, finding her passion, working on it, learning something new every day, and she felt noticed, valued, and appreciated. And maybe, just maybe, the people around her were making her feel like one.