Chapter 10 The Silence That Follows

The estate reeked of disinfectant and iron. Lucien Varro-no longer a phantom, no longer a whisper-was chained to the concrete slab in the sublevel chamber once used to break turncoats. Now, it held a son. His shoulder was wrapped in gauze. His wrists raw from restraints. His eyes? Still defiant. Still watching. Marco stood on the other side of the glass, blood crusted on his collar, silent as a tomb. Rafa approached. "He hasn't spoken." Marco didn't respond. "He hasn't slept either. He just... stares. Like he's waiting for a punchline." Marco turned to Rafa.

"That's because he didn't come to win." Rafa raised a brow. "What then?" "He came to die." Inside the chamber, Marco entered alone. Lucien didn't flinch. He blinked once-slow and deliberate, like a predator pretending to be bored. "You could've killed me," Marco said. Lucien shrugged with his chin. "Could've." "You planned for every move. You studied doctrine like scripture. You had a city bleeding." Marco leaned in. "So why pull a knife instead of a trigger?" Lucien's lip curled. "Because it was personal." Marco didn't blink. "Why?" Lucien smiled with no warmth. "Because I'm not trying to rule your empire." He leaned forward, eyes lit like fire under water. "I'm trying to make sure it dies with you." Upstairs, Arturo watched from the war room monitors, arms folded, eyes unreadable. Raul stepped in behind him. "We gonna bury that freak or what?" Arturo didn't answer. Because something had shifted. A word Lucien used. A look in Marco's eye. It wasn't just another enemy anymore. It was a reckoning. Back in the chamber, Marco sat opposite Lucien. "We're alike, you and I," Lucien muttered. "Raised on power. Forged in silence. Taught to kill before we learned to speak." Marco shook his head. "I was taught to build. You were taught to burn." Lucien smiled again. "You think there's a difference?" He jerked against the chains, not to escape but to prove a point. "You think your father built anything real? He built prisons. Loyalty by leverage. Brotherhood by blackmail. Peace by fear. And when he was done using men like Danilo?" He spat on the floor. "He buried them." Marco leaned forward. "He buried you. So why fight to carry his name?" Lucien's smile vanished. "I'm not carrying it. I'm dragging it into the grave with me." Hours passed. Marco left the chamber. He didn't speak to anyone for a full day. He didn't eat. Didn't sleep. He stood at his father's memorial wall, hands behind his back, reading every engraved name. Not just allies. The memorial bore enemies, too. Because Salvatore believed victory meant ownership of all stories. Marco whispered, "You left me a house full of ghosts." And now one of them was breathing. That night, Rafa returned with news. "Lucien had a ledger hidden in the dock office. Ciphered. Took us six hours, but we cracked it." He handed Marco a file. Inside: names. Not just Valieri targets. Judges. Politicians. Bankers. Lucien wasn't tearing down an empire. He was targeting the infrastructure. Marco flipped to the last page. Three names were circled: Arturo Valieri. Marco Valieri. Anton Viscari. (Mayor of Velrano.) Rafa exhaled. "He was planning a full collapse. Kill the legacy, cripple the money, expose the power." Marco closed the file. "He wanted Velrano to forget we ever existed." In the lower cell, Marco returned. Lucien looked worse. Sleepless. Gaunt. Still smirking. Marco placed the file on the table. "I read your blueprint." Lucien's eyes flicked down, uninterested. "Took you long enough." "You planned to erase us," Marco said. "Not kill us-delete us." Lucien shrugged. "What's a dynasty without witnesses?" Marco stood in silence for a moment. Then said, "You're not dying here." Lucien's smirk faded. "What?" Marco stepped back. "You're going to live. You're going to watch as I rebuild the very thing you tried to erase. Every block you knocked over-I'll raise again." He leaned in close. "You wanted to become your father's vengeance. I'll make sure you become his failure instead." Lucien lunged-but the chains held. "You think this ends with you alive?" he barked. "No," Marco said. "It ends with you forgotten." Later, Marco stood outside the chamber door. Arturo met him, expression cold. "Should've put a bullet in him," Arturo muttered. Marco didn't respond. Arturo stepped closer. "Boys like him don't reform. They rot. Then they return. Worse." Marco's voice was low. "You'd know." Arturo's jaw twitched. "What's that supposed to mean?" Marco looked him dead in the eyes. "You were there in that photo. With Danilo. With his son. The one no one knew existed." Arturo's face froze. Just for a moment. Then the smile returned-tired. Calculated. "I was loyal to your father, Marco. Not to his messes." Marco's voice sharpened. "You didn't bury Lucien. You planted him." A pause. Then Arturo turned and walked away. Didn't deny it. Didn't confess. Just left the weight of the silence behind. That night, the sky over Velrano rumbled like distant gunfire. A new war wouldn't come tomorrow. But Marco knew it would come. Not with bullets or blades-but with lies, memory, and betrayal wearing a familiar face. Lucien was just the overture. The real symphony? Hadn't begun.