Short Mafia Stories & Novels

On the day of the ambush, my stepsister, Vivian Giordano, once shoved me into a dead-end alley to save herself. This time, she did not. Instead, she gave me the chance to escape and ran straight toward the enemies herself. Only then did I realize that, like me, she had been reborn. In my previous life, I was rescued by Luca Moretti, the Mafia Boss's heir, and married into power, while Vivian was eaten alive by jealousy and regret. Now that fate had reset, Vivian was determined to seize what she thought should have been hers. Unbeknownst to her, the man she is running toward is not salvation. Luca is the beginning of an even darker nightmare.

The day my mafia boss husband, Zann Lima, went bankrupt, a car accident crippled both his legs. He was paralyzed from the waist down. I inherited his astronomical debt, and with it, the responsibility to care for him for the rest of his life. For an entire year, I was beaten by debt collectors until I vomited blood, yet I couldn’t bear to buy painkillers. I collapsed from exhaustion working eight jobs a day, yet I couldn’t bear to take a day off. Every penny I earned went toward keeping Zann alive. I believed this was love’s steadfast devotion, until one night, when I was delivering drinks at a club. I stumbled upon the man who was supposed to be sitting and waiting for me at home in his wheelchair, now clinking glasses with his guests, who all revered him as Don!

I was dying of kidney failure. Henry Colombo—the ruthless Mafia heir who once swore he’d burn the world to keep me alive— found me a donor. But the price… was her. Susan Miller, the woman who’d always lingered between us, smiled as she set her terms: “Be mine for one month. Pretend you love me—and I’ll save her life.” He agreed. He said it was just to save me. But every lie, every kiss, every photo she posted online was another nail in my coffin. Each time the surgery drew near, she invented a new delay—a fever, a nightmare, a tender bruise. And Henry believed her. He always believed her. The night my heart flatlined on the operating table, he was across the city, feeding her grapes under candlelight, whispering her name—the name of the woman who had let me die. When he finally learned the truth—that every tear she shed was rehearsed, every promise she made was poison— he destroyed everything. Her lies. Her wealth. Her family name. His own empire. But none of it brought me back.

I loved my stepbrother, Simon Rossi, the Don, for ten years. When he got poisoned one day, I offered myself to him and ended up pregnant. He smoked half a packet of cigarettes before saying, “I’ll take responsibility for this.” However, his first love, Camillia, claimed that she had an asthma attack on our wedding day. I begged Simon to wait until our ceremony was over before going to her. Unfortunately, Camillia escaped the hospital and died on her way to find him. Prior to her death, she called Simon 99 times. But he did not answer even once because of our wedding ceremony. When I found out, I felt terrible. Yet, Simon was exceptionally calm. After our wedding, my health deteriorated exponentially, and I bled heavily during childbirth. Just as I was about to die, I heard the doctor sigh softly. “Mr. Rossi, you’re ruthless. The poison you gave your wife has seeped into her bones. The baby can’t be saved either.” “Camillia suffered the same pain before her death.” When I opened my eyes again, I had gone back to the night before everything happened.

My name is Christina Scott. In my previous life, Xavier Quinn, known as Don Quinn of the Quinn family, had asked me to choose one of his two sons to marry. The chosen one would then inherit his seat of power. Without hesitation, I chose the one I loved—Fletcher Quinn. He married me and assumed the role of the Don, but he blamed me for choosing him. He claimed that it drove his foster sister, Sabrina Quinn, who loved him, to leave. After our wedding, Fletcher hired someone to abduct me, causing me to die with our unborn child. The one who cried the hardest over my body turned out to be Lucas Quinn, a man whom the world called a cold-blooded demon. "Christina, if I had known this would be our ending," he confessed, "I would never have allowed Fletcher to have you." ... Now that I have been reborn, I will leave Fletcher to Sabrina, his foster sister, his true love. As for me, I choose to marry Lucas this time. However, when I chooses to marry Lucas, Fletcher begins to regret. "Christina, I love you. I love you most in the world."

My mother sent me to Chicago to marry Marco Ricci. A power move. One meant to cement our family’s control of the city. After all, my grandfather was the one who put the Riccis on the map. They owed us. They were supposed to treat me like royalty. I went to the fanciest jeweler in Chicago to buy my fiancé a gift. But some broad snatched it right from me. Before I could move, the store manager was fawning all over her. “Miss Bianca! A gift from Mr. Ricci? It’s perfect on you!” Marco? My fiancé? So this was his whore. She slid the sapphire ring onto her finger and shot me a look of disgust. “Who the hell do you think you are, bitch? Trying to take what’s mine?” I didn't even look at her. I just called Marco. "Your whore has something of mine. You have three minutes. Get down to the jeweler and handle her."

I was raised to believe that love meant endurance. That if I loved him enough, I could survive anything. For seven years, I was stationed at the border—alone, bleeding, freezing, nearly dying more times than I can count. Every transfer request I submitted was denied. Every time I asked why, I was told the same thing: the family needed me. The alliance came first. Others needed protection more than I did. What I didn’t know was this— Every sacrifice I made was approved by the man who claimed to love me. Adrian Holt, the Don who raised me, protected me, promised I would be his Donna one day… He was the one signing my name away year after year. He chose widows. He chose alliances. He chose power. And he chose for me—without ever asking. Because he was certain of one thing: That no matter what he did, I would never leave him. He believed love meant I would understand. That loyalty meant silence. That I would forgive anything—as long as he said he loved me. So when I finally walked away, I didn’t argue. I didn’t beg. I disappeared. And that was the moment his world collapsed. Now he’s tearing through cities, alliances, and his own sanity trying to find me— Too late realizing that love is not sacrifice when only one person bleeds. This is not a story about redemption. It’s a story about what happens after you lose the woman who endured everything… And finally chose herself.

People used to say Pierce Voss, my husband, also the boss of the largest mafia in Kingsburg, and I were the kind of couple others envied. He once lit fireworks across the entire coastline just to celebrate my birthday. He bought me a private island because I mentioned loving the ocean. He made the entire mafia respect me as the most esteemed woman in the world. He shut every woman out of his world so I would never feel insecure. I thought our love was unbreakable. After ninety-nine rounds of IVF, I finally got a positive result. I was so happy I couldn’t sleep the whole night, planning to surprise him at our tenth-anniversary party the next day. But instead, I cut into our wedding cake and found Lena Young’s pregnancy report hidden inside. She fell to her knees in front of everyone, sobbing. “Serena… I have cancer. I don’t have long. Please… let me stay with Pierce for whatever time I have left. Give my child a name.” The room erupted, with gasps, whispers, cruel amusement. And in an instant, the woman Pierce Voss had supposedly adored became the laughingstock of the entire Kingsburg city. The love I had been so proud of shattered like cheap glass. Clutching my own pregnancy report, I held back my tears and prepared to walk away with my baby, far from his world, far from the lies. But before I could escape, someone framed me for harming her. I was thrown into detention for three days. And in those three days, I lost my child. Pierce Voss lost me, and every last piece of love I ever had for him. No matter how desperately he begs later, there is no returning to who we used to be.

Rainy nights in Sicelia were always thick with the stench of rust and gunpowder. Rumors had circulated that the newly appointed Don of the Romano family, one of the most powerful mafia clans, had been badly disfigured in a fire. His temper had grown brutal, and three fiancées had already been driven to terror. When the news reached the Deluca family estate, my so-called sister had collapsed in tears and begged me to take her place and honor the engagement. I had watched her act in silence before kicking her to the floor. I had said calmly, "When I was brought back into this family, you were afraid of losing your status. You rushed to secure the marriage alliance to protect your position. Now that your fiancé is disfigured and you can't bear to face that scarred monster, you want to shove me into the flames instead?" At that moment, my childhood sweetheart had burst through the door. He bent down and helped my fake sister to her feet, his concern plain to see. "Elena, don't be so ungrateful," he snapped. "This marriage was yours from the beginning. Now it's simply returning to its rightful owner. Tomorrow, I'll be holding a grand wedding with Rosa. As for you, you can obediently go and serve that monster." My parents had stormed in as well, pointing at me and cursing without restraint. As I looked at the selfish faces before me, I drew a slow breath. Resolve hardened in my eyes. "Fine," I had said quietly. "Then all of you can come down to hell with me."

I’d been dead a month before my family even noticed. It wasn’t concern that brought them to that realization. It was my silence after the so-called “dinner” with Adam Rossi, the infamous mafia boss. My father scoffed like always,“She probably shacked up with that bastard. Too busy spreading her legs to pick up the damn phone.” My sister texted me a photo of them smiling under the Christmas tree, ornaments twinkling like nothing was wrong. Bitch, she wrote. You better talk Mr. Rossi into working with Dad, or you might as well be dead already. And my mother—once the softer one—was now colder than the frost on their windows. “I told you, we should’ve sent Gia to charm Mr. Rossi. Serena always screws things up.” They didn’t think I would die. Not until they found my body—broken, rotten, and forgotten—in Adam Rossi’s basement.

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.

Everyone in the Rossi family knows that their Don, Giovanni Rossi, loves me, Rebecca Costa, more than anyone else. Ever since we got together, he has stopped attending any social events that involve other women. We promised to marry once he returns from negotiating a dangerous arms deal in Aelfana. He was supposed to come back a week before the wedding, but instead, he returned on the eve of the wedding with Rosa Bianchi, his stepsister, in his arms. Rosa was unconscious, and traces of intimacy were visible on her skin. Giovanni kneeled before me, his expression remorseful. "Rebecca… I was drugged. I never meant to betray you. When Rosa threw herself at me, I thought she was you." And I believed him. At least, I did until I overheard a conversation in the changing room backstage at our wedding. One of his men asks, in disbelief, "Did you really mistake her for Rebecca?" "I did for the first night. But for the rest of the week… well, a man ought to have his bit of freedom before getting married." My fingers clench around my phone. In my inbox sits an unopened message—a marriage invitation from Angelo Calavaro, the most enigmatic Don in southern Ilya's underworld. I know what I have to do.

My husband, Luca, had a childhood sweetheart named Sophia. Years ago, during a brutal gang shootout, Sophia shielded him from the worst of the bloodshed, and since then, she had suffered from severe PTSD. Because of that, Luca would push aside family business every year and fly to our estate on a secluded island off the coast of Sicily to spend three months “helping her recover.” “Victoria, she lost her mind because of me,” he told me. “I’m responsible for her. I hope you can be magnanimous.” So, I nodded. And eventually, I got used to the fact that every year, my husband would disappear for three months to fulfill what he called a moral obligation. That was until the day I flew in without warning to inspect the family’s money-laundering network on that island and saw him. In the town square, under the bright Mediterranean sun, Luca was standing there with a five-year-old boy by his side. “Papa, how long do we have to hide on this island?” the child asked. “I want to go to New York. I want to see the Empire State Building.” Luca laughed gently and scooped him up in his arms. With his other hand, he held Sophia’s. “Antonio, be good,” he said affectionately. “Papa’s position is… complicated. When you turn eighteen and pass the family’s initiation ceremony, I’ll kill that woman and her dead old man. Then, I’ll take you back to New York to inherit the entire Corleone family.” I stood in the shadows, unseen. Slowly, I lit a cigarette. The smoke curled around me as their voices drifted over, the conversation getting more vicious as it went. Sophia leaned into his chest, her tone sweet and coy. “Luca, I’ve been with you for seven years without a name or a title. How much longer are our son and I supposed to live like ghosts?” Luca sighed. “I don’t have a choice. The old man in the Corleone family is still alive. I married Victoria just to get her territory. Don’t worry. I’ve been adding something to her milk every day. She’ll never get pregnant in this lifetime. My family bloodline will only continue through you.” The last thread of reason in my mind snapped. In the six years of marriage we shared, I had been infertile. I’d taken countless hormone injections to stimulate ovulation. I’d knelt in church and prayed more times than I could count. Yet, all along, the devil poisoning me was my own husband. The initial shock faded quickly into rage. I crushed out my cigarette and pulled out my phone. Then, I dialed my uncle, the family’s clean-up man. “Uncle Rocco,” I said calmly, “Luca betrayed me. He betrayed the family. Order a coffin in the finest black walnut for me, and make it large, large enough to fit a family of three.”

I'd been gone three months, growing our turf. Came home to find some chick in my robe, on my couch, sipping my wine. I called security. Lesson time. Then Damon—my husband, who only mattered because he married me—jumped in front of her. "It was a drunken mistake. She's just some poor girl. You're not seriously gonna flip over this, right?" I slapped him. "A trophy like you thinks he gets a say now?" Instead of shutting up, he asked for a divorce. For her. Cool. I said yes. He thought ditching me meant freedom. What he didn't get? Without me, he was nobody.

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.

The day I came of age, I had to honor the pact: marry a son of the Blackwood family. In my first life, I chose Julian, the man I’d loved for years. But after we were married, he treated me as nothing more than a tool for his pleasure and cheated on me with my adopted sister, Seraphina. They flaunted their affair right in front of me. In the end, they poisoned me, leaving me to die a bitter, hateful death. Reborn, when the Don Blackwood asked who I would choose for the marriage pact, I didn’t hesitate. I pointed to the sickly Damien. This time, I’d let Julian and Seraphina have each other. But this time, Julian was the one filled with regret.

On the night of my engagement party, Luca Moretti walked his childhood sweetheart over to me. "Clara accidentally stained her dress," he said. "Let her borrow yours for a while." He added, "Everyone knows you're the main character tonight. It doesn't matter what you wear." I didn't bother objecting. The gown was already on her. I stood behind the half-closed back door in a borrowed black dress while his men laughed over their whiskey. "Luca, is your real fiancee going to lose it?" someone asked. Luca barely looked up from his glass. "Anna is going to be a Donna. She needs to learn grace." Another man snorted. "Besides, she's an orphan. Where's she gonna go without you?" Luca smiled. "She can't leave me." They didn't know I had never been an orphan. I had buried the Valenti name for five years because I wanted Luca to love me as Anna, not as the Valenti daughter. My father is the Mafia Chairman, the man every family answered to when the highest table met. That night, I took off the Moretti emerald ring, left it beside the guest book, and called home. "Papa, I’m not marrying Luca. Don't come to Chicago."

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.

When I was five months pregnant, my mafia husband Dante Pierce had an affair with his childhood sweetheart. That was when I discovered that our marriage certificate was fake. He had secretly married someone else behind my back. Even worse, the child I was carrying would be excluded from the family inheritance. From beginning to end, I was nothing more than a public front for his precious childhood sweetheart. After learning the truth, I did not cry or throw a tantrum. I quietly erased my legal identity, changed my name and disappeared forever with my child. However, later, everyone claimed that Dante, head of the Pierce family, was a hopeless romantic who had given up everything to search for the wife and child who had vanished without a trace.

"I will be your mistress, Adrian. Just let my family live." Adrian lifted his glass of wine. A faint smile curved his lips. "I thought they would send me the adopted daughter," he said, "I didn't expect you." "Everyone said your brother spoiled you like a princess. Turns out that was just a joke." The tip of the pen paused, stabbing a small blot of ink onto the paper. I signed my name, calm to the point of silence. The contract would take effect in three days. Then, I would cut all ties with the Willis name. I traded myself for the survival of the Willis family and my own permanent release.