Novel & Cerita The Silent Don

"Liliana, come here." He thought I would obediently wag my tail like a puppy and grovel at his feet like before. I stepped out from behind Alessandro and swept my gaze across the crowd boldly. How had Liliana, the mute of the Volsi family, become so unattainable? My gaze first landed on Alberto. "Since this is your territory, then Don Volsi—you who pride yourself on being the only Don in Altamura that honors its code—does Alberto's oppression and abuse of me count as a violation? And if it does, shouldn't there be punishment?"

The previous playfulness disappeared from his face as he sat frozen on his soft side, not even moving a bit. His prolonged silence thumped my heart as if it challenged me to correct the mistake I made unintentionally. However, I had no idea what I did wrong. So, taking a safer route, I closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep. That was when Cassian finally broke his silence. He grabbed my wrist, catching me off guard. “No!” he said, his voice rough. “You can’t ignore me like this.” My heart leapt to my throat as my eyes flew open, only to find shadows of darkness clouding Cassian’s features. He narrowed his dark eyes and said,

Nissa stared at his broad back. How many times did she silently weep over this very back as he walked away from her without a second thought? He was once a figure out of reach, aloof and untouchable. But now, here he was, kneeling before her. She let out a silent, fleeting laugh. Life was full of irony. When Benjamin did not hear any movement for a while, he turned back and looked up at her. Her face was unreadably calm, like someone watching a dull movie with no emotional investment.

He nodded to me, and motioned for silence. “That print doesn’t belong to one of ours,” he whispered. “And you said none of your agents should be in this area?” he asked Marcus. Marcus bent close to the print, probably checking the scent. “It is not one of mine,” he reported, voice sober. “All right then. This training patrol just became the real thing,” Ronan said. “That’s fine. Clara, you stay in the lead. Marcus, you fan out a little to her right, I’ll take the left. Anyone spots another sign, signal silently.”

They called him The Silent Storm. Don Enzo Castellano didn’t need to raise his voice to command a room. In his mid-sixties, he wore his power like a custom-tailored suit—literally. His silver hair was always slicked back, his dark three-piece always pressed, his cufflinks always real gold. His face, hardened by decades of blood and betrayal, was marked by a sharp jawline and cold, calculating eyes. Eyes that had watched kings rise and fall. He built the Castellano empire with silence and violence—deals signed in whispers, enemies buried in silence. No one dared cross him and live to speak of it. His daughter was feared, but he was worshipped.

Tears welled up as he struggled to his knees, his injured leg trembling beneath him "Please" he gasped "I'm begging you. I didn't touch her and I didn't do anything wrong” His voice cracked. "It was all Zara's plan. She sent Jia to me—she wanted Jia out of the movie so she could take her place” Silvio didn't speak. He just stared, calculating. Then finally, his voice broke the silence "Do you know who I am?" Arthur shook his head "I don't” A slow smirk spread across Silvio's face "I'm the don of this country. I'm Silvio Romano"

“Enough. If you ask me, she's blocked the whole family! Don't take it to heart, Raphael.” “You're right about one thing, she forgets her place more every day! If she won't apologize, she shouldn't bother coming back!” “Shut up!” Raphael's eyes went red as he roared. “The one who forgets her place is you! Scarlett is my Donna. If she isn’t coming back here, where else would she go?” “I'm warning you one last time: watch your mouth!” The line went quiet for a beat. Then came Serena's cold laugh.

Luca took Ezio Conti very seriously. The old Don came through the gate in a car that was understated in the specific way of someone who had nothing to prove — black, clean, no unnecessary detail. He stepped out with the slightly stooped posture of a tall man who had spent decades leaning in to hear things and straightened as much as he straightened these days and looked at Luca with the sharpest dark eyes Luca had ever seen on a man his age. He carried his walking stick. He didn’t lean on it heavily.

She couldn’t believe it. “You told me they’re our enemies,” Natalie said, her voice sharp, waiting for the Don’s response. He stared at her with a serious look, not a word leaving his lips. Amanda, equally silent, kept her gaze fixed on Don Grego, her face unreadable, as if waiting for him to break the silence. “What is this all about?” Natalie finally demanded, her patience thinning. The minutes stretched on in heavy silence.

I watched her go pale, her eyes widening, and then, I saw the tears well up in her eyes. "The Don of the Italian mafia," I continued, my voice a low whisper. And then, the silence swallowed us whole.