All Chapters of The Devil's Heartbeat: Chapter 1 - Chapter 9

The elevator chimed, and in an instant; the floor fell silent, chairs straightened, coffee cups were lowered and, fingers danced nervously over keyboards as though speed could erase the idleness of a second ago.“Don’t look up,” a senior manager hissed under her breath to the new intern beside her.”Just keep typing, he notices everything.” The intern’s brow furrowed. “Who?”The woman didn’t answer, she didn’t need to. Luciano De La Vega stepped out of the elevator, tall and severe in a charcoal-gray suit that fit him with surgical precision. His strides was measured and deliberate, like a predator that already knew no one would dare stand in its way.A junior staff dropped her file as he passed. She bent quickly to pick it up, her face pale with fear that he might notice. He didn’t, or so she thought.The whispering began the moment he passed.“That’s him…”“Diablo.” Another added.“They say he’s fired people for just breathing wrong.” “I heard he’s never had a wo

In the comfort of his office, amidst the cold and unwelcoming atmosphere of La Vega group of companies, its towering skyline piercing through New York, Luciano buried himself in contract documents that needed approval and the constant chime of emails demanding his attention.He spent nearly all his time there; one could say the office was more of a home than the grand Vega mansion. Despite its army of servants, lavish bedrooms, and private study, the mansion offered him no comfort. He had little use for the servants, and even less for the emptiness that echoed through its halls. He leaned back in his leather chair, fingers drumming lightly against the polished mahogany desk. His tie sat slightly loosened, his dark eyes fixed on the cascade of figures glowing on the screen. The door opened with a gentle knock. “Sir,” Mr Grad said with a calm voice, he entered, tall and neatly pressed as always, his clipboard tucked beneath one arm. He had been Luciano’s assistant for se

The glass doors of La Vega Group of companies swung open with a sharp hiss, announcing the arrival of its CEO. Luciano De La Vega strode in, his jaw tight, the crease between his brows deep enough to cut marble. His tailored suit, usually a flawless armor of elegance, still carried faint dust on the sleeve from when the taxi had splashed against it earlier. His stride was clipped, calculated, but brimming with suppressed fury. Employees, sensing the storm in their boss’s aura, lowered their gaze to their screens and whispered to each other only after he passed. No one dared crossed his path.“Mr. Grad!” Luciano’s voice sliced through the cool morning air of the executive floor.Mr. Grad, nearly dropping the files he was carrying, he scrambled into Lucioano’s office, his face already set in apologetic likeness.“Yes,. Sir?”Luciano slammed his briefcase on the desk. “Where the hell were you this morning?”Grad blinked. “Sir, I…”“My car broke down halfway a

On his way home, Luciano’s phone buzzed and the caller ID indicated it was his mother calling. He looked at it and sighed, he knew exactly what she was going to say ask how the date went, which by the way was a disaster. There was no way their marriage was going to last, it would have been easier if Camilla stayed strong and rejected the proposal. However, she was bounded by filial duties as he was. He picked up the phone and turned it over; it would be easier to ignore the call that way. As the car pulled up at the Vega mansion, the staff came out to welcome him, one took his bag and the driver repacked the car the way Luciano always liked it for easy mobility from the house. He stepped into the mansion, the familiar hush swallowing him the moment the door closed behind his broad frame. The sound of his shoes echoed faintly against the polished marble floors, each step heavy with the weight of his thoughts. His fingers loosened the silk tie around his neck with an

The garden glowed that afternoon, alive with orchids, roses, and the meticulous perfection only the Vega staff could achieve. Rows of chairs lined the trimmed hedges, a white aisle running down the center like a deliberate slice through green. Guests in silk and tailored suits fanned themselves with programs while the string quartets melody floated under the sun.It looked beautiful, but for Camilla, beauty didn’t soften the knot twisting in her chest. From the far end of the veranda, she adjusted her veil in the glass doors. Her reflection looked like someone else, a doll dressed in lace, groomed and displayed. She tugged once more at the gown, ignoring Mrs. Vega’s warnings.“You’re wrinkling it, my dear.” She whispered.“I’m sorry,” Camilla muttered.Just then the door slightly opened and her father’s head appeared from the slight opening.“Aii mi amore, you’re, looking so beautiful in that dress.” Her father complimented, with genuine happiness. The kind of joy paren