The Devil You Know

ELIJAH The car stopped in front of the mansion, and for a few seconds, I just stared. It’s massive, all glass and steel, clean lines and quiet money. The kind of place where every surface looks like it’s been polished by someone paid to disappear before you notice them. I turn to Mila, still trying to process it. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She doesn’t even blink. “Wipe that look off your face.” “I thought your parents were, what…middle class? You said your mom lived abroad.” She exhales, adjusting her hair in the mirror. “I said a lot of things. You believed what you wanted.” “Mila,” I say quietly, “what is this?” Her voice is calm, rehearsed. “This is my home. My family’s home. They’re well known, and yes, rich. Don’t make it a big deal.” “You hid this from me.” She looks at me now, her expression somewhere between apology and annoyance. “I didn’t hide it. I just didn’t tell you. There’s a difference.” I let out a small, humorless laugh. “Right. Huge diff

ELIJAH I stormed out of Mila’s room, slamming the door behind me. My hands were shaking, and my chest felt like it was ready to explode. Every time I let her hurt me, I told myself it wouldn’t happen again. But here I was, standing in her perfect hallway, feeling like a fool for loving her. I had told her I loved her. I had exposed myself completely, let her see every weak point, every crack, and nothing had changed. She was playing with me. She always did. Every word, every smile, every carefully calculated gesture. Was it some kind of test? Or worse, a game she enjoyed? Why did she bring me here? Why did she keep me in the dark? Why did she allow me walk into her trap? Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t see him until it was too late. The servant was coming up the stairs carrying a cup of coffee. I bumped into him hard, and he staggered, his grip slipping. The cup wobbled and fell with a light crash. “Oh my God!” the man shouted, panic clear in his voice. “No! I..

ELIJAH I was pacing the hall outside my room when I spotted her. Mila, walking down the hallway, her face tight, eyes sharp, the kind of anger you couldn’t ignore. I quickened my pace, following her before she disappeared into some corner of the house. “Hey,” I called, trying to keep my voice calm. “Mila, wait.” She didn’t turn, just kept walking, jaw clenched. I caught up, matching her pace. “Talk to me. What’s going on?” She finally glanced at me, eyes flashing. “What’s going on?” she repeated, voice low but tense. “My mother decided she’s getting married. Without asking anyone. Do you have any idea how maddening that is?” “I…Mila, I get it. I understand. But you’re letting it eat you alive. Just… breathe. Come on, let’s sit.” She finally stopped at her room, swinging the door open. She didn’t say a word, just walked inside. I followed, closing the door behind me. I sat on the edge of her bed, watching her pace. She looked… small. Vulnerable. Angry, yes, but I could feel

ELIJAH Evening had settled into the De Valerio mansion, and the shadows in the hallway seemed to stretch longer than usual. I had made sure to get Andrade’s coffee early enough tonight. Over the past days, I had learned his schedule — morning coffee, evening coffee. It wasn’t just a habit; it was a ritual. I carried the tray quietly, every step echoing softly on the polished floor. I reached Andrade’s room and knocked twice. Silence. Not a sound. I hesitated. I frowned. What if he gets mad if I leave it here? What if he gets mad if I enter? I know I can't take this back. My chest tightened. I had no choice. I pushed the door open, just a crack. And froze. Andrade was there… with a woman, a blonde woman in his bed. Her moans filled the room. He was standing while she arched her ass up in the air, spread out on the bed. Andrade was fucking her from behind, each thrust, each spank, fuck… Her ass wiggles from each thrust. But surprisingly to me, what cau

ANDRADE The tray clinked softly, and Elijah approached me. Carefully. He avoided looking directly at me at first, but I could see his eyes darting, scanning, taking in everything — and I could feel it. That tension in the air. “Coffee,” he said softly, holding it out. His voice was quiet, almost apologetic. I didn’t answer immediately. I watched him. He flinched slightly when he noticed me standing there in a towel, still fresh from the shower, my chest and shoulders bare. I caught the briefest flicker of his eyes as they strayed — up, down, across — and I let myself smirk. “Do you like what you see?” I asked, my voice low, measured. He froze. His eyes widened, and he shook his head quickly. “No! I… I wasn’t… I wasn’t looking,” he stammered. I let the smirk linger, sharp and deliberate. “Really?” I said, stepping slightly closer, watching him swallow hard. “Because it looked like you were.” His hands gripped the tray tighter, knuckles white. “I—I was just… I’m