Rain slicked the pavement outside as Alina stepped into the art studio tucked in a quiet corner of downtown. The walls smelled faintly of turpentine and chalk, and the windows were steamed with warmth from within. Children's paintings decorated the entrance like banners of chaos and wonder.
And right in the center of the room—laughing in a swirl of watercolor and glitter—was Lily.
Alina stood by the door for a moment, watching the little girl twirl around a paint-splattered canvas, a yellow flower crown tilting on her curls. There was a serenity in her freedom, in the ease of her laughter. It struck Alina harder than she expected.
Lily spotted her.
"Aunt Alina!" she called, dropping her paintbrush and running with her arms wide.
Alina crouched just in time to catch her in an embrace.
"You came back," Lily whispered, as if afraid saying it aloud might break the spell.
"I told you I might."
"And you did," she said proudly. "That makes it a promise."
Alina smiled, her arms tightening around the child. "I guess it does."
They spent the afternoon painting a cherry tree together—though Alina's strokes were stiff at first. She hadn't held a brush since childhood, and even then, she'd never had time to be bad at anything. Everything had to serve a purpose.
But Lily didn't care about technique.
"It's not about making it look real," she told Alina, tilting her head at the crooked pink blossoms. "It's about making it feel right."
Alina blinked, surprised by the wisdom in that.
When Zeke arrived to pick Lily up, he lingered at the doorway, watching them in silence. There was a softness in his face Alina hadn't seen since their mother's funeral.
"She's happier when you're around," he said as they walked outside together.
Alina slid her coat over her shoulders. "She'll be happier when you give her stability."
"I'm working on it."
"You said that three years ago," she shot back, voice low but sharp.
"I mean it now."
They stood beneath a flickering streetlamp, the rain starting to fall again.
"She needs more than art classes and weekend promises," Alina continued. "She needs a school she can stay in. A room of her own. A real future."
"I'm trying," he whispered.
Alina hesitated. Then: "Let me help."
Zeke looked at her like she'd spoken in another language. "You'd… what?"
"I'm not doing it for you," she clarified. "I'm doing it for her."
Zeke nodded, his throat tight. "Thank you."
They parted ways with an unspoken truce between them, fragile but real.
Back at the manor, Leonard was waiting with two glasses of whiskey in the library. Alina entered to find him studying the fire, his expression unreadable.
"You're late," he said.
"I lost track of time."
"With Lily?"
Alina nodded, settling into the chair across from him.
"I offered to help Zeke," she said after a pause. "With school fees. Housing. Everything Lily needs."
Leonard didn't reply immediately.
"You trust him now?"
"No," she said. "But I trust myself to protect her."
Leonard sipped his drink, his gaze flickering.
"That's dangerous," he said. "Giving people second chances."
"Is that what I gave you?" she asked softly.
He looked at her, a shadow of regret in his eyes. "If you did, I'm not sure I deserved it."
They fell into silence, the fire crackling between them.
Finally, Alina said, "Why did you marry me, Leonard?"
The question had lingered too long between them, like a locked room no one dared open.
He didn't flinch. "Because I needed you. Your name, your intelligence, your connections."
"But not me."
He hesitated. "I didn't know you then."
"And now?"
He leaned forward, resting his glass on the side table.
"Now… I see you. And I'm afraid of losing what I never thought I wanted."
Alina's breath caught. She wanted to believe him. Part of her already did. But the wounds were still fresh, the distrust still pulsing beneath her skin.
"You're good with words," she said. "But I need actions."
"Then give me time," he said. "To prove I'm worth yours."
The following week was a whirlwind.
Alina met with education consultants, toured private schools, and worked with a child psychologist to ensure Lily's transition wouldn't uproot her sense of stability.
Meanwhile, Leonard's legal team began quietly orchestrating Jasper's erasure from Liang Enterprises—burying the scandal under layers of confidentiality agreements and carefully worded press releases.
On Friday morning, Alina visited Lily's current school to observe.
She watched from a small window as Lily read a poem aloud to her class—voice clear and strong, hands animated with passion. It struck her again how bright the child was, how resilient.
"She's a miracle," the teacher whispered beside her. "Considering all she's been through."
Alina turned. "What do you mean?"
The teacher glanced down the hall. "Her mother... she wasn't well. Lily used to hide under tables when the bell rang. Said she thought it was a bomb."
Alina felt her heart twist.
"I didn't know," she said softly.
"She's been through a war, even if it wasn't in the headlines."
That evening, Alina returned to the manor emotionally drained. She sat in the garden for hours, surrounded by the scent of jasmine and wet soil. When Leonard found her, she didn't look up.
"She's been broken," Alina whispered. "Just like I was."
He knelt beside her. "And yet she's growing."
"That's the part that hurts the most," she said. "Knowing she had to."
He touched her hand, gentle. "You're giving her more than protection, Alina. You're giving her roots."
Tears filled her eyes, and for once, she didn't wipe them away.
"She deserves better."
"And you're becoming that 'better.' For her. For yourself."
They sat in silence, the night cool and quiet.
Then Leonard said, "I've been thinking. About Lily. About you. About us."
Alina waited.
"I want to set up a trust. For her education. Her future. No matter what happens between us."
Alina looked at him, startled. "You would do that?"
"She's part of your life now," he said. "Which means she's part of mine."
It was the first time he had spoken of them as a unit without hesitation.
And it cracked something inside her.
That weekend, Alina brought Lily to the manor.
Madam Xu, ever the queen on her crumbling throne, greeted them with narrowed eyes and silence.
"This is Lily," Alina said clearly. "She's family. She'll be visiting often."
Madam Xu's lips curled in disdain. "You think I'll allow a child like her to walk these halls?"
Alina stepped forward. "You allowed worse."
Madam Xu gasped. "You dare—"
"Yes," Alina said, voice steely. "I do. Because for the first time, I'm not afraid of you."
Madam Xu opened her mouth to retort—but Leonard entered then, placing a hand on Alina's shoulder.
"She's right," he said. "Lily is part of this family now."
Madam Xu glared at them both. "You'll regret this. Mark my words."
But Alina only smiled. "No. I think I'll finally sleep well tonight."