Alex should have gone straight home that night. Should have climbed into his father's waiting town car, stared out the tinted window, and convinced himself that Maya Donovan had been nothing but a fleeting daydream.
Instead, he stayed.
He lingered by the forgotten piano, running his fingers over the dented keys she'd just played. He could almost feel the warmth of her presence still humming through the air. It made him reckless.
When he finally left the alley, dawn was breaking — smearing pale gold across the bruised city skyline. His driver, Ethan, stood by the car with barely concealed irritation.
"Where the hell were you, Alex?" Ethan asked, voice low but sharp enough to cut.
"Taking a walk," Alex said, slipping into the back seat before Ethan could interrogate him further.
Ethan slammed the door harder than necessary.
As the car pulled away from the club, Alex caught his reflection in the window: tousled hair, collar askew, eyes too bright. He looked like a man who'd just committed treason — and maybe he had.
---
Back at Carter Manor, the vultures were already circling.
Breakfast at the long oak dining table was a cold, ritualistic affair. His father, Charles Carter, read the morning paper, gold cufflinks glinting in the weak sunlight. Across from him, Alex's mother picked at her toast, eyes glazed as always — a ghost trapped in silk and pearls.
"Late night?" Charles asked without looking up.
Alex shrugged, pouring himself coffee. "Had to clear my head."
His father lowered the paper an inch, enough to reveal eyes that missed nothing. Cold, calculating. The eyes of a man who built an empire on fear.
"You cleared it at the Velvet Note?" Charles asked, voice smooth as poison.
Alex's hand froze mid-pour. "How—?"
Charles smirked. "You're not as discreet as you think. Our people saw you slipping out the back. Care to explain why you were alone?"
Alex forced his features into a mask of bored indifference. "Just needed quiet. That's all."
His father studied him for a long, suffocating moment. Then he chuckled — humorless. "Be careful, son. That part of town breeds vipers. One bite, and even a Carter can bleed."
Alex gritted his teeth. "Noted."
Charles returned to his paper, dismissing him with a flick of his eyes. Breakfast resumed — cold, sterile, deadly in its silence.
---
Maya Donovan didn't have the luxury of silk robes and marble breakfast tables.
She woke to the shrill ring of her phone, sunlight stabbing through her tiny apartment window. She squinted at the screen — fifteen missed calls from her brother, Leo.
"Shit."
She answered on the sixteenth ring.
"Where the hell have you been?" Leo barked before she could say a word.
"Good morning to you too," Maya mumbled, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
"Don't play cute, Maya. I've been trying to reach you all night. Dad's looking for you."
That snapped her fully awake. "Why? What happened?"
There was a pause — just enough to make her stomach twist.
"Word is, someone saw you behind the Velvet Note last night. With a Carter."
The color drained from her face. "That's— That's ridiculous. I wasn't—"
"Don't lie to me!" Leo's voice cracked like a whip. "Maya, do you have any idea what you've done? If Dad hears this—"
"I didn't do anything," she snapped, more to convince herself than him. "He just... showed up. I didn't know who he was at first."
"And then what?" Leo demanded.
She shut her eyes, remembering the way Alex had looked at her — not like a Carter, but like a man starved for something real.
"Nothing happened," she whispered.
Another pause. Then Leo sighed, his anger crumbling into weary fear. "Maya, listen to me. You can't be near him. Ever. Do you understand?"
She wanted to say she did. But the words stuck in her throat.
"I have to go," she said instead, ending the call before he could plead more truths she wasn't ready to face.
---
By dusk, the rumor had spread like gasoline finding a flame.
In the city's backrooms — the bars, the poker tables, the smoky boardrooms — whispers hissed and sparked:
The Carter boy and a Donovan girl, together?
Impossible.
Dangerous.
Poetic, if you like blood on poetry.
Maya tried to ignore it. She buried herself in work at the community arts center her mother had once run before cancer took her and the family business consumed everything else. Teaching piano to restless teenagers was easier than facing the truth clawing at her chest: she wanted to see him again.
And she hated herself for it.
---
Alex didn't make it easy to forget.
Two nights later, she found him waiting by the same alley garden, leaning against the piano like he belonged there.
She nearly turned and fled. But pride held her in place.
"What are you doing here?" she hissed, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching.
"Waiting for you," he said simply.
She folded her arms, nails digging into her palms. "You're reckless. Do you know how many people would kill us both if they saw this?"
"Probably half the city," Alex said, flashing that infuriating half-smile. "But they're not here, are they?"
She wanted to slap him. Or kiss him. She wasn't sure which urge terrified her more.
"You shouldn't be here," she said, voice shaking. "We shouldn't—"
"Don't say it," Alex cut in, stepping closer. "Don't pretend you don't feel it too."
His nearness scrambled her thoughts, turned reason into smoke.
"You're a Carter," she whispered.
"And you're a Donovan." He lifted a hand, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. "Funny how the world makes enemies out of strangers who could've been—"
"Don't," she said again, softer this time.
But it was too late. The spark had caught.
His hand cupped her jaw, thumb brushing her lips. She should've pushed him away. Instead, her fingers curled around his wrist, anchoring herself to the one thing she wasn't supposed to want.
For a heartbeat, the city fell away: no families, no wars, no consequences.
Just Alex and Maya and the ruin waiting for them both.
Then footsteps echoed from the far end of the alley — loud, purposeful.
Maya jerked back. Alex's hand fell away.
"Go," she hissed. "Before they see you."
He opened his mouth to protest, but the look in her eyes silenced him.
Without another word, he slipped into the shadows — a ghost in the dying light.
Maya pressed her palm to her chest, trying to steady the thunder of her heart.
She knew, deep down, there would be no forgetting him now.
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give me your thoughts on this episode
Next, we can dive into:
The families reacting more aggressively.
A betrayal brewing within Maya's inner circle.
Alex risking more to see her.
Would you like me to keep writing Episode 3 right now?