These days, Alena is spending hours watching tutorials, experimenting with different styles and colors, slowly bringing life back to her world through the strokes of her brush. Kieran appreciated her work quietly. Even his eyes often lingered on her art longer than he admitted. Even Aiden, who had always been grumpy and sharp-tongued with her, found himself noticing her progress. Somewhere in his guarded heart, a soft corner for her had formed.
He never said it aloud, of course. But now and then, he would return from the market with new brushes, sketchbooks, or art books. Sometimes even canvas rolls. Alena's room now had an entire collection of supplies, thanks to him.
One sunny afternoon, Alena sat in the garden with her sketchbook, her gaze tracing the fluttering butterflies dancing among the flowers. She began painting them delicately, as if capturing their fleeting freedom.
Aiden walked out, holding a bundle of watercolors and colored pencils. His voice was half-tease, half-genuine curiosity.
"Ohh, you brought your painting business to the garden now?"
Alena glanced at him and smiled. "I was feeling bored inside the room."
He leaned slightly to peek at her sketchbook. "You've really gotten yourself into painting. You love it that much?"
Alena's smile softened. "When I was young, I used to. Now I'm just… exploring it further. Anyways, I don't have much to do here, so at least I can learn something."
Aiden smirked, teasing her. "You're right, you're the only one who is useless here."
Alena shot him a glare, but he only smirked wider, handing her the things he brought.
"Here. Take this."
Her face lit up as she accepted them. "Ohh, you brought this for me? Thank you."
He shrugged, pretending not to care. "Hmm, don't get too excited. I went to the market for something else, but I thought of buying these… otherwise you'll start bothering me at random times."
Alena smiled again, genuinely this time. "Thank you, Aiden."
"Yeah, yeah." He nodded, glanced at her art book one last time, then walked off. But his smirk didn't fade.
Meanwhile, at the Moretti mansion, Kieran sat across from his father, Henry, at the long dining table. Lunch was served, but silence hung heavier than the food.
Henry broke it first. "How is the real estate business going?"
Kieran replied calmly, "It's going well, Dad."
Henry nodded, studying his son. "You've been staying at the farmhouse for months now. What's wrong here?"
Kieran answered blankly, "I just wanted some space. And focus on business."
Henry's eyes sharpened as if he could see through his son. "If that's the only reason, fine. But don't do something foolish like chasing after Luca behind my back."
Kieran's jaw tightened, his gaze turning icy.
Henry continued, voice firm, "Let him hide wherever he is, but until he is not in our territory, don't go after him. I don't want unnecessary enemies anymore. Understood?"
Kieran met his father's eyes, then finally nodded. "Fine."
Henry leaned back, Satisfied, "Good. Now… I've been thinking about expanding into the arts."
Kieran frowned slightly. "Arts?"
"Yes." Henry's eyes lit up with interest. "Art galleries. Presenting different styles, traditional and modern. We could hire lesser-known but talented artists, buy their work, and sell it at a premium. People these days are crazy for art, not just the rich. Everyone wants a piece to hang in their homes. It's a profitable market."
Kieran listened quietly, then said, "Okay, Dad."
Henry smirked. "And I'm giving this responsibility to you."
Kieran's brows furrowed. "Me?"
"Yes. Tomorrow, Mr. and Mrs. Novak are coming for dinner at the farmhouse. They're strong business partners for this. Especially Mrs. Novak. She has a sharp eye for art. Make sure you treat them well."
Kieran looked at his father, shocked. "Dad, all of a sudden? At least you should've informed me earlier—"
Henry cut him off. "You have time until tomorrow. What's there to prepare? Just arrange a nice dinner and take care of them."
Kieran opened his mouth to argue, but Henry's expression hardened. "No more discussion."
With that, Henry stood and left the table, leaving Kieran sitting there—shocked, frustrated, and confused about what tomorrow would bring.
Later that evening, Kieran called Aiden into his study. His tone was firm but calm.
"Tomorrow night, Mr. and Mrs. Novak will be joining us for dinner here at the farmhouse. It's important. Dad wants Morettis to be a partner in the new art business with them. I need you to make sure everything is perfect."
Aiden immediately understood the weight of the request. Business was something he never took lightly. "Got it, boss. I'll handle the arrangements."
The next morning, the farmhouse bustled with unusual energy. Workers dusted chandeliers, polished furniture, and set fresh flowers in every corner. Aiden oversaw everything with his usual sharp eye, giving instructions here and there.
As he was giving orders to one of the decorators, Alena wandered in, curious.
"What's happening here?" she asked.
Aiden turned, arms crossed. "Tonight, an important business dinner is being arranged here. That's why all this."
Alena's brows rose. "Ohh…"
"And you," Aiden said, pointing at her as though she were one of the staff, "make sure you stay in your room until dinner is finished. Don't come out. This is very important for the big boss."
"Big boss?" Alena repeated.
"Yes," Aiden nodded. "Boss's father. Mr. Henry Moretti."
Alena blinked. She knew so little about Kieran's family and world that this piece of information intrigued her more than she expected. "Ah, I see…"
"You got my point, right?" Aiden pressed.
"Yeah, yeah," Alena said, waving her hand. "I'll stay out of sight."
"Good." He gave a curt nod, then paused, almost as if debating something. "And yes, where are those paintings you've been doing recently?"
Alena frowned suspiciously. "In my room. Why?"
"Bring me the butterfly one. The big one you painted last week."
Her eyes widened. "Why? They're not that good."
Aiden rolled his eyes. "I know. But I want one. For decoration. Now go get it."
She hesitated. "You're serious?"
He gave her a mock glare. "Will you bring it, or should I stop buying you supplies altogether?"
Alena gasped. "No! No! I'll bring it."
Aiden smirked. "Good. Get it fast."
Minutes later, Alena returned, clutching the canvas. "Here."
Aiden took it, studying the delicate details, his expression unreadable. Then he turned to one of the decorators. "How about we frame this and hang it over there?"
The decorator glanced at the painting, analysing it. "Well, that's… oddly beautiful. Sure, I'll do it."
Aiden's lips twitched in a rare smile. Alena lingered for a second, trying to read his reaction.
"What?" Aiden snapped lightly. "Why are you still standing here? Go back to your room. And remember, don't come out until the guests leave."
Alena nodded while obeying, going back to her room, where she immediately buried herself in another art.
Dinner Night – 8 PM
The sleek black Range Rover rolled to a stop at the entrance of the Moretti farmhouse. The evening air was crisp, scented faintly with flowers from the garden.
Kieran stood at the doorway, perfectly dressed in a three-piece suit, his hair perfectly styled, his expression composed yet carrying that sharp edge of authority. Beside him, Aiden stood, crisp as ever.
The car door opened, and Mr. and Mrs. Novak stepped out.
Mrs. Novak, in her mid-forties, wore a black dress that clung elegantly to her figure. She was the kind of woman who carried both power and grace effortlessly. Mr. Novak, in his early 50s with his salt-and-pepper hair swept back, radiated a quiet charisma built on experience..
Kieran stepped forward, smile charming and practiced. "Welcome to the Moretti estate."
"Hello, Kieran," Mrs. Novak replied warmly.
"It's a pleasure," added Mr. Novak, shaking his hand.
"Come inside, please," Kieran gestured smoothly, leading them into the grand living room, where everything gleamed under warm golden light.
They settled on the soft couch. "What would you like to drink? Coffee, wine?"
"A glass of wine, please," Mrs. Novak smiled.
"The same for me," said her husband.
Kieran nodded at Aiden, who gave the order to the staff.
The conversation soon turned to business, the potential in art, expanding markets, and strategies. But as they spoke, Mrs. Novak's gaze began wandering across the room. Her eyes landed on the framed butterfly painting. She halted, tilting her head, her glass hovering mid-air.
"Kieran," she said suddenly, "From where did you get that piece?"
Kieran stopped as he was talking to Mr Novak and turned around to look in the direction she was pointing. He glanced at Aiden, who mouthed silently: Alena's painting.
"Oh," Kieran said smoothly, "that wasn't made by any famous artist. It was done by someone very close to me."
Mrs. Novak leaned forward, her eyes alight. "Really? Who?"
Kieran's smile faltered into a small frown. "Why do you ask?"
Mrs. Novak's lips curved knowingly. "Because this is extraordinary. Raw, yes. But the emotions in it are undeniable. It's colorful on the surface yet carries such depth underneath. I can tell it was done by a rookie artist, still unpolished, but the uniqueness is there. I'd very much like to meet this person."
Kieran's lips twitched into a wider smile. "Of course."
He turned to Aiden. "Bring Alena."
"Boss, but—"
"Do as I say." Kieran's tone left no room for protest.
Reluctantly, Aiden headed upstairs.
Alena sat cross-legged on the floor, paintbrush in hand, lost in another art. A sharp knock startled her.
"Who is it?" she called.
"Open the door," came Aiden's impatient growl.
"Aiden?" She scrambled up, opening the door a crack. "What is it?"
"Boss is calling you," he said flatly.
"Me?" Her eyes widened. "Why? I didn't do anything! I was in my room the whole time, I swear—"
Aiden glared at her. She shut her mouth. Aiden said, "He is calling you, just come with me without speaking, got it?"
Nervousness knotted in her stomach as she followed him. Why is he calling me? He must be with guests by this time. Why does he need me? Did I do something wrong?
A lot of questions lingered in her head. Her heart pounded until they entered the living room.
"There she is," Kieran said warmly.
The Novaks turned to look at Alena. A small figure, standing barefoot, wearing pyjama and a cotton shirt, Hair a little messy, bare face, cute pout on her lips, seems a little scared. She looked like she was brought straight from her world of colors into theirs.
Kieran couldn't help but smile. Even scared, she looked ridiculously cute.
Mrs. Novak smiled. She extended a hand. "Hello, darling."
Alena glanced at her hand and then at Kieran, who nodded encouragingly. She slowly shook her hand with Mrs. Novak's.
"Did you paint that art?" She pointed at the hanging canvas frame.
Alena's gaze followed, and she nodded slowly.
"You know," Mrs. Novak said, her voice warm with admiration, "I'm truly impressed. It's rare to see such honesty in colors. There's innocence and some kind of pain hidden in it. Yet it looks beautiful. It's unique, darling. Very impressive."
Alena's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? Thank you… But I'm not a big artist. I'm still learning."
"That's the best part," Mrs. Novak said with a smile. "You have raw talent. All you need is polishing."
Alena's lips curled into a small, genuine smile. Mr. Novak chuckled softly at her shy delight. Even Kieran's heart skipped for a moment. Feeling something proud, protective, and strangely tender.
Then Mrs. Novak spoke again, and her next words froze Alena in place.
"Would you like to join my art school? I want to offer you a full scholarship."
The room fell quiet, the weight of her words sinking in. Alena stood stunned, paint-stained fingers trembling slightly, as her life shifted in a way she had never expected.