Checkmate in Silence

Marco and Enzo were born with loud mouths and louder egos. From the outside, they seemed destined to inherit the De Luca throne.

Marco, the eldest after Luca, played the role of the charming heir—fake smiles, silk suits, backroom deals with politicians.

Enzo was the loose cannon—flashy cars, nightclub scenes, girls on each arm, running his mouth like bullets in a gun.

They thought Luca was just the cursed shadow behind them.

A background figure.

A burden.

They were wrong.

It began with a missing shipment.

Ten million in weapons, gone. No trace. No signs of forced entry. No leaks—supposedly.

Marco had been in charge of the deal. He blamed the rival Moretti family. Pushed for war.

But Luca knew better.

He had seen Enzo late at night, meeting with someone in a black sedan—the same type seen near the docks the night the cargo disappeared.

He said nothing.

Instead, he waited.

Three nights later, he left a flash drive on his father’s desk.

No note. No explanation.

Just a video—grainy, but clear.

Enzo. Counting cash. Laughing.

Handing crates marked “DLC” over to a masked man with a familiar Moretti tattoo.

The fallout was nuclear.

Enzo swore it wasn’t what it looked like. Marco accused him of planting it.

Giovanni said nothing… but the next day, Enzo’s position over the south docks was reassigned. To someone else.

> To Luca.

It was quiet, unofficial. No announcement. No ceremony.

But within a week, everyone in the family knew who had exposed the traitor.

And for the first time, the underbosses stopped looking at Marco.

They started turning toward the silent boy with the wolf’s eyes.

Marco confronted Luca that night.

Threw him against the wall of the wine cellar. Fists clenched, eyes bloodshot.

> “You think you’re clever? You think you’re better than us?” he snarled.

“You’ll never lead. You’ll always be a freak. A curse.”

Luca didn’t fight back.

He just pulled out a folded piece of paper and held it up.

Marco snatched it and read:

> “I don’t need to speak to lead.

I only need you to keep talking.”

Marco punched the wall, screamed, stormed out.

He never laid hands on Luca again.

From that moment on, the balance shifted.

The crew started reporting to Luca behind closed doors.

He started giving orders—silently—through text, gestures, slips of paper with deadly meaning.

And slowly, one by one, the soldiers realized something terrifying:

> He never needed a voice to become the most dangerous man in the room.

Luca doesn’t just live with the curse; he refuses to be pitied by it. No crutches. No signs. Just raw presence.

Don Salvatore was nearly ninety, but the fire in his bones had never died.

He lived alone in the northern villa now—semi-retired, they said. A ghost in silk robes, visited by powerful men and feared like a god.

No one crossed him. Not even his son Giovanni.

But Luca...

Luca intrigued him.

The old man rarely left his estate, but he watched—always.

He heard the whispers. Saw the shifts. The soldiers following orders that came in glances and gestures. The grandsons scrambling to keep their place while Luca said nothing and gained everything.

One evening, unannounced, Salvatore summoned Luca.

Giovanni didn’t interfere.

No one did.

When Salvatore calls, you go.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***