Short Mafia Stories & Novels

Leo Lovera was a capo, and he always thought I was just a housewife who couldn’t survive without him. He brought a woman, Sophia Costa, back to the estate. He dressed her in my silk robes, doused her in my perfume, and then pretended like he was being thoughtful by offering me a bowl of stew with only a few slices of meat. Leo scowled at me and snapped, “Sophia’s kind-hearted. Don’t be ungrateful. If it weren’t for the fact that you have no family, I’d have thrown you into the sea to feed the fish a long time ago.” No family? I laughed. He had no idea I was the daughter of the Orlen Family's Don, a Mafia princess in every sense. To honor a five-year agreement with the Don, I had been living under a hidden identity, keeping all my sharp edges carefully tucked away. He had said that for five years, I had to live as a normal woman and protect the Family’s territory. I couldn't ever truly inherit his empire without doing so. Five years. And today was the last day. Leo had just shattered that agreement with his own hands. In doing so, he freed me. I pulled out the satellite phone and dialed a number. Ten minutes later, the Family’s legal counsel arrived, flanked by men in black suits. They knocked on the door, and Bruce Sinclair bowed to me the moment he stepped inside. “Principessa Anna, the Don has entrusted the estate to you.”

Vincenzo Moretti was Stonehaven’s youngest financial titan— a tech mogul commanding a multibillion-dollar empire, gracing the covers of business magazines as a modern legend. But only a select few knew the truth: he was also the ruthless Don controlling the East Coast mafia. To him, wealth and power were mere chips in a game. And I? I was just another pawn used to stabilize a fragile family alliance. In our ten-year marriage, he slept with my friends, my coworkers… every single person I once trusted. Then one morning, as I took our one-month-old baby for a routine checkup, Sienna Newton, his latest mistress, ran me down with her car. The baby screamed endlessly. I begged her to take us to the hospital, and when Vincenzo arrived, he looked at me with cold disdain. “Isabella,” he sneered, “when did you learn to stage accidents? “Even if you died here, I wouldn’t bat an eye.” Then he took Sienna’s hand and walked away without a backward glance. By the time I was rushed to the hospital, the child in my arms had suffocated. Upon hearing the news, my mother suffered a heart attack. She didn’t survive. I slipped into a coma for two days. When I finally woke up, I found out that Vincenzo never visited. Instead, his father, Renato Moretti, the true king of the Moretti empire, stood by my bedside. I looked at him calmly and said, “Let me go. Whatever I owed your family, I’ve repaid in full with two lives.” Later, that same Don who had once looked down on me knelt before me, begging me to come home. But I was no longer the woman who waited, silent and broken, for his change of heart. I was the Don’s wife who turned away and never looked back.

My father cheated. I cut him out of my life. To get my forgiveness, my father put Lucas Moretti, the Don of New York, in my bed. I fell for Lucas, fast. He knew how to play gentle. Night after night, he’d hold me tight, fuck me like he owned me, and whisper how obsessed he was with me. Six months later, I was pregnant. I was the princess of New York's underworld. My father and Lucas gave me everything. They treated me like I was made of glass. But the day of the baby's blessing at the church? They were a no-show. My father said there was family business to handle. Then I got an anonymous link. A wedding. Live. In the video, my father, Lorenzo, was walking his mistress, Carla—the woman who killed my mother—down the aisle, a happy smile plastered on his face. And the other happy couple? My fiancé, and my father's bastard daughter, Sofia. I could hear Lucas’s voice clearly: "Well, Bella used to bully Sofia. I'm just helping her get the justice she deserves... As for Bella, it's time she was unburdened from a life she isn't built for." "I'll take over the Gallo family shares for her," he continued, "so she and our child can live without a care in the world." My father’s voice followed. "Bella’s too much like her mother—ambitious. That’s not a good thing for a woman." As my world shattered, a text from an unknown number lit up my screen: "Marry me, and the child you're carrying will be the sole heir of the Russo family."

I have been hopelessly in love with Don Lorenzo Greco since the first time I saw him ten years ago. As the only daughter of the long-established Messina mafia family, I have set aside my pride and chased after him for a decade. On my 25th birthday, the way Lorenzo looks at me finally changed. He's not seeing a child anymore. He's looking at a woman. Lorenzo says yes to me, and I finally kiss the mouth I've been dreaming of all this while. The next day, Lorenzo announces to the world that he will hold the wedding of the century. 9,999 roses, fireworks all night, and a spectacle so grand it will shock every family in Northern Darvent. I stand there with tears in my eyes as the fireworks spell out another woman's name. Elena Lagioia. The assistant who has always been at Lorenzo's side, the girl I have never once taken seriously. I plan to confront Lorenzo with a gun in my hand. However, I stop outside the door when I hear him speaking to his consigliere. "Elena's parents are gambling addicts and owe a large debt. If I don't marry her, she'll be sold to a brothel in Malicuria tomorrow. Let's keep Cinzia in the dark for now. After this is over, I'll divorce Elena and marry Cinzia. After all, she loves me so dearly." On Lorenzo's wedding day, I'm wearing a wedding dress and resting in the arms of a far more powerful Don of the Argento family from Southern Darvent. I look at Lorenzo and smile. It drives him crazy. He swears to do whatever it takes to win me back.

After days of torture at the hands of my family’s rival gang, they offered me one last phone call. I called my brother, Matteo. I just wanted to say goodbye—while I still had the chance. “What is it now?” he snapped. “Matteo, I—” He didn’t let me finish. “Fix your own mistakes. Until then, don’t call me again.” Death didn’t hurt as much as those words did. I felt my heart slow to a stop as my brother’s words echoed in my ears. I guess you’re finally at peace now, Matteo. I won’t bother you again. And you’ll never have to see me again.

As my due date approached, a massive discrepancy surfaced in the Galante family's arms accounts. The leadership made a swift decision. They sent me, Sophia Vitale, the Don's wife, the woman everyone claimed had nothing better to do, to personally inspect the armory and verify the inventory. I believed it was a routine check. I never imagined my husband's godsister, Monica Leone, would use it as cover to blow up the entire armory. The explosion was deafening. Fire ripped through the sky. Concrete collapsed around me, crushing my body as a searing pain tore through my abdomen. I did not call my husband on his highest-priority private line. Instead, I sent a distress signal to my father. In my previous life, the moment the explosion occurred, I had used that same priority channel to call my husband. The child had survived. Monica had been obliterated in the blast. My husband had claimed he did not blame me. He had said Monica was an outsider and that an heir mattered more. He had spared no expense, hiring elite obstetric specialists to monitor me day and night. He had told me to stay calm and wait for delivery. Then, on the day I went into labor, he personally locked me and the baby inside an abandoned warehouse drenched in gasoline and burned us alive. "If you hadn't deliberately delayed, she wouldn't have died. Do you really think playing the innocent victim could fool me? Dream on," he said. "You like playing with fire so much? Fine. I'll let you experience her despair yourself." When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the armory, at the exact moment of the explosion.

On the day that was supposed to be my wedding—the bride wasn’t me. The ceremony I’d waited for five years for turned into a joke when Valentina, my sister, walked down the marble aisle in a white wedding dress. Her arm was linked with Luca’s — the man who was supposed to be waiting for me at the altar. “I’m sorry, Bianca,” she said softly. “But you are no longer the bride today.” Then she touched her stomach, eyes gleaming with triumph. “I’m pregnant with Don Romano’s child.” Her words detonated inside my skull, and the whole world went silent. As if afraid I wouldn’t believe her, she lifted something glossy up towards the light. A black-and-white ultrasound image. It read clearly: Gestational age — 12 weeks. My eyes burned, tears stinging as I turned to Luca, desperately searching for anything—a denial, an explanation, regret. Instead, he only sighed, weary and resigned. “Bianca, I’m sorry.” he said helplessly. “Valentina doesn’t have much time left. This wedding… it was her last wish.” “I’ll make it up to you,” he added. “We can have another wedding later.” My father, Moretti, stood behind him, wearing the same stern expression he’d worn my entire life. I have never seen him smile at me, not even once. “Bianca,” he said sharply, “Your sister is dying. Let her have this.” My brother nodded without saying a single word, as if that was enough to be a solid answer. All my life, they had chosen her—her tears, her whims, her needs—over mine. Today was no different. Something inside me quietly cracked. Fine. If no one in this family cares about me, I’ll leave.

After I, Rosalie Ricci, was stood up 17 times, the mafia don, Daniel Marino, finally holds the perfect engagement banquet for me. In our second year together, we are ready to get married. But every single time, he has an excuse to hold our engagement off. He says he's busy with work, the timing isn't right yet, or that he isn't quite ready. I never blame him because I love him. I have loved him since our school days. In fact, I have loved him for seven whole years. This is the 18th time. I stand in the banquet hall wearing the gown he personally chose for me and watch as he slips the ring onto my finger. He kisses me with a passionate intensity he has never shown me before. At that moment, I believe that I have finally secured my perfect happiness after waiting seven long years. My happiness only lasts until the guests leave. As I step into the back garden, I see Daniel holding my twin sister, Leah Ricci, in his arms. He says in a hushed voice, "I announced my engagement to Rosalie 18 times. This time, you're finally back." That's when I realize that the engagement banquet that I have longed for is nothing more than a ploy by Daniel to draw Leah back to him. But when I decided to let them be together, Daniel panics.

My parents died when I was ten, and I became an orphan. Darius Rossi, a mafia don, found me and took me out of the beggars' den. He wrapped me in designer clothes and raised me like a prized possession. Everyone said I would grow up to be his wife, that I was the treasure he kept close to his heart. Then came my birthday party. After a night of wild passion, he handed me a photo of his rival, Valerio Warren. He said, "Monica Arden, I've taken care of you for ten years. Now it's time for you to repay me. I'm arranging a marriage alliance with the Costa family. This is the guy Gina Costa has been crushing on, and I need you to seduce him and create an opening for me. I want her to marry me willingly." That was when I finally understood that I was never his treasure. I was just the most disposable piece on his chessboard. I followed his orders and pursued Valerio, doing exactly as he commanded. Yet, on the wedding day, Darius lost his mind when Valerio slipped the diamond ring onto my finger.

Elvira Corleone was the precious daughter of the Corleone family, a breathtaking beauty well-known in their inner circle. Whoever dared provoke her either ended up submitting to her or as a body at the bottom of Bayton Harbor. One day, her best friend, Lilian Allen, made a daring bet. "Vira, make my brother fall for you, and I'll give you the power of judgment over Bayton Harbor's underground scene." Elvira grinned, bold and confident. She pressed the cigar out in the ashtray. "Lilian, you know I've never failed to get what I want." Yet, plans never worked out the way one would expect.

My husband Dante, Don of the Moretti family, was killed in a gang crossfire. I was devastated, because the same day, I’d also found out that my IVF injection had worked. I was pregnant. The Moretti didn’t want me to spiral. So they called in Dante’s twin brother, Ash Moretti, to help around. I felt both guilty and grateful until I overheard them talking in the study. “It was Ash who died. Why would you make us tell Harper it was you?” His father asked. Dante’s voice. “I only married her because you promised me the Don’s seat.” Then Gianna’s voice. “Dante had given her a child. That alone should’ve been enough.” So. It wasn’t my husband who died. It was his brother. And my husband and his sister in law thought this was his clean exit. As he wished, I gave it to him. When the doctor told me the fetus had less than a ten percent chance of survival, I agreed to terminate. And along with reclaiming everything else I had once given the Moretti, I walked away from his life—for good.

I was bleeding out in a corner after a hit from a rival family. My husband, Dante—the Torrino family’s underboss—was in his car, holding his best friend's little sister. He gave me one cold look and said, "Leave her. She's a nobody." Later, after someone else saved me, I walked home, soaked in my own blood. I found Dante cradling Seraphina, fussing over her. All she had was a scraped knee. The blood covering my clothes? He didn't even see it. I just watched. Said nothing. Then I pulled out my phone and called my mother. "Mom, I need to come home."

I've been married to my Mafia Boss husband for 15 years. When we first got married, he couldn't even afford a ring, but I didn't care; I loved him. I hid my identity. I secretly used my family's influence to help him build his empire from scratch, and I even bore him two children. His adopted sister always mocked me, calling me an old-fashioned housewife and saying I wasn't good enough for him. To avoid embarrassing him, I always endured it. Until our 15th anniversary, because both me and his adopted sister wore red dresses, he told me to stay in the kitchen: "Sofia's right. That red doesn't suit you. Don't come out until the banquet actually ends. Stay in the kitchen. I don't need the Dons from New York seeing you and getting the wrong impression." I was completely heartbroken and didn't argue anymore. I dialed a number I hadn't made in 15 years: "Principessa?" "It's me," I said, my voice steady. "Tell those old fossils on the Council... Isabella Corleone is coming home."

My name is Isabella Wright. In my fifth year of marriage to the Don of a powerful mafia family, I find out that the protection charm he gave me causes me headaches whenever I bring it with me. I take out the sachet I find in the charm and bring it to Cursley Hospital. The doctor inspects the sachet and tells me that it contains a type of slow-acting poison that doesn't just cause harm to the victim's body but also renders them infertile after a while. I cry and exclaim, "But that's impossible! My husband gave this to me! His name is Vincenzo Cursley. He's also the person who owns this hospital!" The doctor looks at me in confusion. "Miss, I think you need to visit the psychiatrist. I know Mr. Cursley and his wife. They're very close and intimate with each other. Also, Mrs. Cursley just gave birth to a baby boy not too long ago. They're both now in the VIP ward, looking at their baby." Then, the doctor shows me a photo on his phone. Vincenzo was wearing his usual black suit with the Cursley family emblem embroidered on it. He was holding a baby in his arms, and as for the woman standing next to him… I know her. Her name is Claudia Henderson. And Vincenzo has always referred to her as his adoptive sister.

In the middle of the night, my husband started talking in his sleep. "My little treasure, Daddy's taking you and Mommy to the new house tomorrow." But we were using protection. Where the hell did a kid come from? So I opened his phone. I saw the money transfers to another woman—spent on all kinds of luxury shit and a house. The photo album had pictures of her in a skimpy stripper outfit, a little bump in her belly. The last one was an ultrasound. Four months along, it looked like. I didn't make a sound. Just saved the evidence. They were about to learn the price of betraying a mafia princess.

I took a bullet for my boyfriend, Leo. When I woke up, I decided to play a little game. I told him I had amnesia. I wanted to see what he'd do. Instead, I saw a flash of excitement in his eyes. Next thing I know, he brings in his cousin. Dante. The Don of the family. "This is your fiancé, Dante. You've been engaged for two years." Dante. The man who supposedly hated me. Now he was staring at me like I was his whole world. "Yes," he said. "I'm your fiancé." Fine. I'll play along. I need to know what game Leo is playing. That night, I saw it. Security footage in Dante's mansion. Leo, in bed with another woman. He kissed her like he was starving. Pushed inside her. And he talked trash about me. "Let my cousin watch Bella for a while. She's so damn needy. You're what I really need, Scarlett." My heart shattered. He pawned me off on another man. Just so he could screw around. Fine. Two can play at that game. I'll get myself a new fiancé. I put on the wedding dress. I kissed Dante—a deep, devouring kiss, right in front of Leo. And that's when he finally broke. He lost his mind. Told me he was wrong and begged me to come back.

The Vale family was the most powerful mafia syndicate in the New York City. And I—along with a few other carefully chosen girls—had been handpicked to join their ranks, trained from the ground up so that the next head of the family could choose his wife from among us. Wife. That was the kinder word for it. The truth was whoever got picked would become his shield, his weapon, his most loyal protector. Someone who would kill for him. Die for him. Years passed. One by one, the others fell away. In the end, only Elara Quinn and I remained. And then, Elara died—killed on a secret mission. After that, there were no more choices left. I became Adrian Vale’s wife by default. I had given everything to Adrian. And I loved him. I thought he loved me too until I took a bullet to the chest—meant for him. As I lay there, barely breathing, I heard Adrian talking to his assistant, “Don’t bury her in the Vale cemetery. My half is reserved for Elara.” That was it. Elara—who had never even lived long enough to marry him—still had a space carved beside him in death. I? I had taken the hit that should have ended him… and yet I wasn’t even good enough to be buried near him. I slowly closed my eyes. And when I opened them again, I was back on the day the Vale family formally announced Adrian as their new head. The day everything began.

On the night of my wedding, my husband, the Don, kissed my trembling body while telling me not to be afraid. However, the next second, he personally handed me off to 30 men. "Your virginity is theirs for five million per person." I screamed when I woke up from the dream. Fortunately, it was just a nightmare. But on the day of our wedding, I saw a man with a scar on his face sitting next to the stage. He was one of the men from my dream. I accidentally heard him talking on the phone, "That's five million well spent. I can't wait to take her to bed." As I turned to make my escape, I heard the footsteps behind me getting nearer. My phone suddenly rang, and it was Owen Thorne calling me. "We're coming for you, honey."

My mafia husband, Vincent Santoro, was born a monster, incapable of loving anyone. But one day, I discovered he was hiding a ‘forbidden fruit’. A girl from the slums, Claire Murphy. Scarred by life, yet as beautiful as a wildflower growing through concrete. For a man who'd waded through blood his whole life, she was a fatal attraction he never saw coming. He thought he'd covered his tracks. He was wrong. At the Santoro family's annual dinner, I confronted him about Claire, tears streaking down my face. He just lightly frowned, then had his consigliere slide the divorce papers across the table to me. "Isabella. Sign it. The three North Side docks and the shipping lines are yours." I tore the papers to shreds. He just kept raising the offer. He had me thrown into the freezing waters of Lake Michigan. He blew up my family's distillery—the Romano family's legacy. Finally, he took my parents. Tied them in an abandoned warehouse and made one watch as he set the other on fire. "Sign, or watch them burn. Your choice." I begged him on my knees, but a roar of flames consumed the world— The heat seared my skin, the ash of my parents clinging to my face. "No... NO!" When I opened my eyes, I was back. Back on the day I first learned about Claire. This time, no tears, no drama. That night, I called my family in Sicily and set my escape in motion. But the moment I vanished from his world… Vincent Santoro went insane.

At the annual Mafia Summit, my childhood sweetheart, Salvatore Russo, falls victim to an aphrodisiac slipped to him by a beautiful spy from a rival family. And I, the cherished daughter of the most feared Don in the west, willingly become his antidote. That night, he drives me to the edge of breathless surrender, again and again. "Principessa, what did I ever do to deserve your favor?" he mutters. From that moment on, his love consumes me whole, making me forget what loneliness ever felt like. But in the third year of our marriage, someone sent me a private video of a man and a woman. It's from Rosa Conti, the same woman who once drugged Salvatore. In the video, Salvatore's voice is thick with desire. "Darling, of course I remember. The one who should've been in my bed that night was you." Then, Rosa sends me another voice message, taunting, "Arianna Moretti, for three years, he's been dulling your claws, turning you into something soft and spoiled. Everything he did was just to bring me back." However, she doesn't know that when I love Salvatore, I don't mind surrendering to him. And when I no longer love him, he'll face my fiercest vengeance.