All Chapters of The Devil You Know : Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

ELIJAH I walked into Renata’s mansion, the place where I had spent five months recovering, training, rebuilding myself. I hardly came here anymore—being traced by the Valerios wasn’t exactly something I could risk. The living room was quiet, almost too quiet. That was when I noticed him—a young man sitting cross-legged on the couch, headphones in, hoodie pulled tight, completely comfortable. Too comfortable. Skinny, very tall perhaps. And for a moment, I was struck by how much he reminded me of the old me, before everything fell apart. Then noticed me, eyes lifting from his phone. Slowly, almost reluctantly, but he stood. Slowly. I offered a smile, stepping closer. “Hey,” I said, holding out my hand. “I’m Eli.” He hesitated for a beat, then gave me a small nod and quickly took my hand. “So… you’re Elijah,” he said, voice cautious but steady. “Yes…” I returned the smile. “And you are…?” Before he could answer, the elevator chimed. Renata stepped out, her presence immediate

ELIJAH I was still running through the events of the past few days in my mind when Renata came into the living room. I looked up, and my stomach tightened. She carried something small in her hand—a box, black, velvet, with a subtle sheen that caught the light. She placed it on the glass table with a soft clink. I blinked, trying to understand. My gaze fixed on the box, and then I looked up at her. “What… what is this?” My voice was flat, confused. Renata slowly lowered herself onto the couch across from me, her smile calm, “It’s something you need,” she said. I frowned. “Need? Renata… you’re not serious, are you? What the hell are you doing?” She leaned back, crossed her legs, and let the silence stretch for a moment. Then she answered, “That,” she gestured to the box, “is an engagement ring. And I’ll wear it if you agree to the plan.” I blinked at her. One moment, I was expecting a casual discussion about strategy, maybe a boardroom-level confrontation about Andrade or Crist

ELIJAH “You told me before that you're not into women. So, are you a virgin or something?” Our eyes met for a very intense moment. My cheeks burned, the room suddenly feeling too small, too exposed. I crossed my arms over my chest, backing up a step toward the door. He needs to go. Now. “No, I'm not a virgin. And no, I don't feel comfortable talking to you about these things. Renata won't like it if she finds out we're even discussing this.” But Sebastián ignored me completely, leaning forward with his hands in his pockets, like we were just two buddies sharing secrets. “Who's gonna tell her?” His eyes gleamed with mischief and I'd swear I saw a wink. “Stop." I moved away. “C’mon, how many men have you fucked? Just tell me.” His tone was insistent, eyes gleaming with that mix of curiosity and hunger that made my stomach twist. I hesitated, glancing at the door, half-tempted to bolt. But something in his gaze held me there, and the words slipped out before I could

ELIJAH I walked into the house with Renata by my side, and I could feel every eye on us. The air seemed to shift as if the walls themselves were acknowledging the storm we brought with us. Renata wore a silk dress that clung to her in all the right ways, her confidence radiating through every step. I, in my tailored suit, walked beside her, carrying the weight of my own power, my half of the empire pressing down on me like armor. We looked like a couple that had already conquered the world—or at least, ready to burn it down. Marisol was coming down the stairs with her PA, giving some instructions, when she noticed us. For a moment, she froze, eyes widening, her mouth opening slightly as if the sight of Renata beside me had short-circuited her entire being. Then, fury replaced shock, and she stormed down the stairs, barking orders for the guards. “Take this garbage out of my house! Now!” Marisol’s voice echoed, sharp and commanding. Renata didn’t flinch. Instead,

ANDRADE I pour myself another glass even though my hand is already unsteady. The whiskey doesn't burn anymore. I wish it did. I wish something did. My mother stood opposite me at the mini-bar, arms crossed tightly over her chest like she’s trying to keep herself from exploding. She’s been watching me drink for over an hour, saying nothing. But the silence finally gets to her. “How long are you going to keep doing this?” she asks softly. I don’t bother looking up. “Leave me alone, mamá.” “No,” she says, her voice trembling. “I won’t. You’re my only son. I’m supposed to worry about you.” “Then go worry about your daughter.” That hits her. Her face folds, but she hides it quickly. Mom has always been better at burying pain than I am. Maybe that’s why she can still stand here, while I’ve already drowned myself halfway. She exhales slowly. “I haven’t seen Camila in weeks.” Her voice cracks. “She’s a mess, Andrade. I know I never believed she truly loved Elijah, but…