Episode 3: Fate’s Second Chance

[Scene: The Royal Academy of Arts – Elia’s First Day]

Elia stood outside the grand entrance of the Royal Academy of Arts, clutching her sketchbook like a lifeline. The historical building loomed over her, its massive columns and intricate carvings making her feel small.

You belong here. You worked for this, she reminded herself.

Inside, students bustled about, some carrying canvases, others engaged in deep conversations about color theory and artistic expression. The air smelled of fresh paint and possibilities.

Ava, her ever-energetic new friend, nudged her playfully.

Ava (grinning): "You’re about to be surrounded by tortured artists and coffee-addicted geniuses. Welcome to the madness, Elia."

Elia chuckled, her nerves easing just a little.

Elia: "As long as they don’t judge my work too hard, I think I’ll survive."

Ava (dramatic sigh): "Oh, sweetheart, this is art school. Judgment is literally our oxygen."

Elia laughed, but deep down, she felt the weight of proving herself.

As she entered her first class, a familiar feeling crept up her spine—that strange sense of being watched.

She turned, scanning the sea of students. Nothing. Just her imagination.

Or so she thought.

[Scene: A Hidden Club in London – Zavier’s World]

The music was loud, the air thick with the scent of whiskey and danger. Inside a private VIP lounge, Zavier Khan leaned back on a leather couch, his cold blue eyes scanning the room.

Around him, men in sharp suits stood with a tense posture, waiting for his command. Across from him sat a man in his forties, his face slick with sweat.

Man (nervously): "Zavier, I—I swear I’ll have the money. Just a few more days—"

Zavier tilted his head, uninterested in the excuses.

Zavier (calmly): "You had your days. Now you have none."

The man gulped, eyes darting to Zavier’s right-hand man, Idris, who stood silently like a shadow.

Man (pleading): "Please, I have a family—"

Zavier raised a hand, cutting him off.

Zavier (coldly): "Then you should’ve thought about them before stealing from me."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Zavier wasn’t one for unnecessary cruelty, but weakness disgusted him. And betrayal? That was unforgivable.

With a flick of his fingers, Idris grabbed the man by the collar and dragged him out. The club’s music swallowed his cries.

Zavier exhaled, rubbing his temple. He hated these meetings. They were a reminder of the world he ruled—a kingdom built on fear and power.

But tonight, something else occupied his mind.

That girl.

The one from the alley.

Her eyes had held something he hadn’t seen in a long time—defiance.

Why was she still in his thoughts?

He hated distractions.

[Scene: A London Café – A Collision of Worlds]

Elia sat in a cozy corner of a small café, her sketchbook open, a cup of chai steaming beside her. She had spent hours wandering the city, trying to absorb its energy.

As she sketched the outline of a London street, she heard a commotion near the entrance. A group of men entered, their presence shifting the café’s atmosphere instantly.

They weren’t students. They weren’t tourists. They carried something heavy in their demeanor—power.

And leading them was him.

Elia’s fingers froze on the page.

Zavier Khan.

He hadn’t seen her yet, but she recognized him instantly—the man from the alley. The man who had scared off her attacker with nothing but a look.

What was he doing here?

Zavier approached the counter, exchanging a few words with the barista. His presence was commanding, effortless.

Elia knew she should look away, but she couldn’t. There was something unsettling about him. Something dangerous.

Then, as if sensing her gaze, Zavier turned.

Their eyes met.

Elia’s breath caught.

Zavier’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes—recognition.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then, to her surprise, he started walking toward her.

Elia’s heart pounded.

Zavier (low voice): "We meet again, little artist."

Her pulse quickened. He remembered her.

Elia (steadying herself): "I didn’t know you owned this café."

Zavier smirked, sliding into the seat across from her without asking.

Zavier: "I don’t. But I like the tea."

Elia raised an eyebrow. Tea? The cold, terrifying gangster drinks tea?

She watched him carefully. There was something unnerving about his calmness, the way he seemed to study her like she was an unsolved puzzle.

Elia: "You didn’t answer my question. Who are you?"

Zavier tapped his fingers on the table, amused.

Zavier: "You’re better off not knowing."

Elia wasn’t satisfied with that.

Elia (leaning forward): "Then why did you help me in that alley?"

Zavier’s smirk faded. For a moment, he didn’t answer.

Zavier (quietly): "Because I don’t like seeing things that shouldn’t happen."

His tone was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something she couldn’t quite name.

A darkness. A past.

Elia: "That’s not an answer."

Zavier (chuckling): "It’s the only one you’ll get."

Before she could press further, one of Zavier’s men approached and whispered something in his ear.

Zavier sighed and stood.

Zavier: "It was… interesting, running into you again."

Elia (crossing her arms): "That sounds like you don’t want it to happen again."

Zavier met her gaze, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes.

Zavier: "Or maybe I do."

And just like that, he was gone.

Elia exhaled, realizing she had been holding her breath.

What just happened?

And why did she feel like she had just stepped into something she wasn’t ready for?

🔥 To Be Continued… 🔥

Highlights of Episode 3:

Elia starts her first day at the Royal Academy and begins adjusting to London.

Zavier deals with the harsh realities of his underworld empire.

A chance encounter in a café brings them face to face once more.

A spark of curiosity, tension, and something dangerously intriguing begins between them.

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