Pendek Mafia Cerita & Novel

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.

I'm getting married soon—but not to my boyfriend of six years, Soren Cruz. He's the mafia boss based in Mehico and is currently busy "working" with his new underboss, Thea Ramirez. Lately, he's been so swamped with work that he completely forgot about me and our promise to get married on our sixth anniversary. At the Christmas party, he ordered Thea's favorite almond cake. He forgot I'm allergic to almonds. While his friends were messing around, a slice of cake hit me right in the face. I fainted on the spot. When I woke up, I told Mom I didn't want to marry Soren anymore. I'm going back.

After five years of marriage, I received a wedding invitation from abroad. The groom is my husband, Arnold Willowstream. The bride is my younger sister, Yasmine Cooper. In disbelief, I decide to fly to Ainland and witness the wedding for myself. But the moment I see Arnold holding Yasmine and kissing her deeply, my heart shatters completely. Fireworks explode in the sky, and glowing words appear above—"Happy Marriage, Mr. Willowstream and Ms. Yasmine." In that instant, it feels like a blade piercing straight through my chest. Watching them look so happy together, I feel like I'm the one intruding on someone else's marriage. Love is a game for two—there's no room for a third. If he's already gotten married to someone else, what place do I have left in his life? Rather than waiting to be pushed out, I choose to walk away on my own and at least keep the last shred of dignity.

I was a brilliant artist. But I crushed my right hand saving my mafia husband, Vincent, and my ability to create died with it for three years. Vincent promised he'd make me whole again. Our private doctor swore he was doing everything he could. But my hand remained numb, useless. Then, one day, I overheard a conversation that shattered my world. "Make sure she can never create again," Vincent told the doctor. "I can't have Isabella threatening Sophia's place in the art world!" "But, Mr. Torrino, another procedure might... she could lose the hand for good." "I don't care what happens to her! Sophia saved my life. I will not let her down!" It turned out my husband was the one who had destroyed me. And the assassin, Sophia, was the woman he truly loved. He let her claim my designs, turning her into the art world’s new darling while I was trapped in a broken body. When I confronted him, pregnant with our child, he slapped me in public and told the world I was losing my mind. That night, I burned everything that bound me to him. Then I dialed an encrypted number I hadn't used in what felt like a lifetime. "Grandpa. In three days, I need to disappear."

Seven years after getting engaged to Leander Beaumont, he inherits everything that once belonged to his late brother—including his brother's wife, Dinah Fowler. Every time Leander sleeps with Dinah, he holds me afterward and whispers, "Jenny, just wait a little longer. We can finally have our wedding once Dinah gets pregnant." It's the only condition the Beaumont family, Westrael’s most powerful mafia clan, sets for Leander to become the next Don. In just half a year after returning home, Leander visits Dinah's room 59 times. He starts from once a month... to nearly every single day. Finally, after the 60th time I watch him leave Dinah's room, the "good news" comes. Dinah is pregnant. And along with it, an announcement—the Beaumont family declares Leander and Dinah are getting married. "Mamma, is someone getting married?" my young son asks, staring at the house now lavishly decorated by a wedding company. I quietly gather him into my arms, my voice cold as I say, "Yes, sweetheart. Your father is marrying the woman he loves. It's time for us to leave." What Leander doesn't know is that the Bellini family, my family, has risen to become a mafia power strong enough to rival the Beaumonts. And me? I'm Jenny Bellini, the most beloved daughter of the Bellini family. I will never be trapped by marriage again.

The night my husband, William Costello, was assassinated by his enemies was supposed to be a celebration—our wedding anniversary. I was dressed in his favorite red dress, waiting for him, when the phone rang. "Mr. Costello was shot at the harbor. The bullet went through the back of his head. He died on the spot." I collapsed to the floor. I clung to his belongings, mourning for a week straight. We even lost our unborn child during this time. Everyone said William and I were true love. Even the Don himself came to the funeral, resting a heavy hand on my shoulder with a sigh. He said, "All of Blackhaven knows you were the only woman he ever loved." Grief nearly destroyed me. I stood at the river's edge, ready to follow William into the afterlife. However, I overheard my sister-in-law, Emily Hawkins, leaning into my brother-in-law, Jones Costello, her voice dripping with a twisted affection. She purred, "William, I love you so much. Between Nina and me, who do you think is sexier?" "Of course it's you, babe!" came the husky reply. I stood frozen, my eyes wide and my body trembling. Why was Emily calling my brother-in-law by my husband's name?

On the night of the Benedetto family's Harvest Festival, my Mafia husband, Salvatore, told me to bring our son, Giuseppe, to the family gathering. He said his madre had finally accepted us into the Benedetto bloodline. I was trembling with excitement in our little cottage as I dressed Giuseppe in his finest little suit. He had carved a single wooden rose by hand, a project he'd saved for over five years. He said he would present it to his grandmother at the celebration, a plea for her to accept our place in the family. But the moment we stepped into the stone manor, I saw Carmela. Salvatore had her pinned against an oak barrel in a deep, searing kiss. In the moonlight, her hand was undoing his tie. In front of everyone, Salvatore smiled and gently pushed her away. He walked toward the family members gathered in a semicircle and raised a crystal glass. "Tonight, in addition to celebrating the harvest, I have an important announcement." "I would like to introduce you all to the woman I have married in the eyes of God and the Church." "Miss Carmela Torrino." Before I could even process his words, Giuseppe tore his hand from mine and rushed forward. "Papa, what are you saying?" "Isn't my mother your wife?"

That year, during the Sicilian arms trafficking conflict, my lover of three years, Silvio, deliberately betrayed my transport routes at a critical moment in a deal with the rival "DiMarco" family, causing me to lose all my territory. He immediately defected to the DiMarco family's leader Marina, becoming her lover. As he left, he didn't even bother to disguise his betrayal, coldly tossing out, "What we had was just business, nothing personal." While I was burdened with my family's blood debts and pushed to the edge of a cliff, Lorenzo, who had secretly harbored feelings for me since childhood, found me and offered his family's entire fortune. "Isabella, don't be afraid. In my eyes, you'll always be Sicily's most formidable Queen of the Arms Trade," he said. He took the Colt pistol from my hand, and his voice was gentle yet resolute. Five years later, my power resurged. I was about to completely crush Marina's smuggling network and reclaim everything I had lost. My caporegimes, the captains of my organization, were ready and waiting for my command. But on the night before the operation, my weapons warehouse suddenly exploded, turning priceless arms into worthless scrap metal. I barely escaped through the thick smoke, my body covered in burns. In a secluded monastery, I overheard Lorenzo and Silvio whispering outside my door. "You really had the guts to blow up the arsenal. Weren't you afraid of blasting her to pieces too?" Silvio's voice carried a mocking tone. "If she died, just died. I've always loved Marina. If it weren't for that unlucky family marriage lottery five years ago, I wouldn't have had to endure this ugly bitch for all this time." Lorenzo's voice was ice-cold and unfamiliar. I closed my eyes, feeling like a dagger had pierced my chest. Explosion. Arranged marriage. Ugly bitch. So those five years of shared hardship were just his unwilling choice after losing a high-stakes gamble. "I married her to keep watch. If it weren't for me paving

On the day I got pregnant again, August decided to give up on gambling and work to provide for the family. I was so touched that I cried. With trembling hands, I handed him the money I had saved up after working odd jobs for a year. Two of the bank notes fell on the floor, and I picked them up before running after him. When I reached the end of the alley, I saw the mafia members who always came to our doorstep to demand repayment of our debt. They treated August respectfully. Apparently, his poverty was just a facade. “Mr. August, do we still need to surround your house and demand payment tomorrow?” August sat in a Lincoln limousine and said nonchalantly, “No need.” He stared at the ring on his finger and sighed. “It’s been years. It’s enough to prove that her love for me is real. She once worked so hard to pay off my debt that she suffered a miscarriage. “I already betrayed her once. It’s time to tell her about my true identity so that she doesn’t have to work so hard anymore.” But Ivy, his childhood friend, pouted. “You can’t! It’s not time yet to reveal the truth! What if she’s like your previous girlfriends and only cares about your money and your identity as a mafia boss? “You should wait a little longer and see whether she wants to have this baby.” August gave a wistful nod. “Alright. I’ll do as you say. In any case, she has been with me for so long. I don’t think she can leave me now.” I clenched the money in my hands and turned around. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I no longer wanted to live this lie dressed as love.

On my 20th birthday, my father hosts a dinner for our allied families. He lifts his glass with a smile and turns to his old friend, saying, "It's time my principessa chooses a husband from your sons." Without hesitation, I choose the youngest—Salvatore Carlo. Everyone is stunned. After all, I'm Estella Vinci, the eldest daughter of the Vinci family. I was born into wealth and power, with a father from a long-established Virellian mafia family and a mother from Montavira's ruthless DeNucci bloodline. And yet, I was hopelessly in love with Giovanni Carlo, third son of the Carlo family. In my past life, I got exactly what I wished for. I became his wife. He got what he wanted too. With my father's power, he became the heir of the Carlo family. But after we got married, my adopted sister Eleanor Vinci became his mistress. When my father found out, he was furious. He sent her far away in marriage to Norland. From that day on, Giovanni hated me with everything he had. He drowned himself in nightclubs, night after night, always bringing home women who looked just like Eleanor. He let them mock me and humiliate me. On my birthday, one of them poisoned my cake. I died with hatred in my heart at eight months pregnant. Now that I am reborn, I decide to let them have each other. But the moment I choose Salvatore, Giovanni loses his mind.

I’d just wrapped up a short trip with my daughter, Elara. On the way back, I figured I’d swing by the Hale, our family’s casino, to check in on my son, Cassian. Maybe grab dinner together. I didn’t expect to be mistaken for his latest fling. Correction: not mistaken—accused. Violently. “You think you can just waltz in here like some queen?” she hissed. “I’m the woman Cassian loves! What kind of whore are you? And is this your bastard daughter with him?” She locked us in the basement. No phone. No light. Just concrete walls and the stench of mildew and madness. Then came the fists. She slapped me across the face—again and again—until my skin stung and my ears rang. When that didn’t satisfy her, she pulled a gun and aimed low. The bullet tore through my knee. I bit back a scream, shielding Elara with my body. “You need to die, whore,” she spat. One of her men hesitated, “We should at least tell Mr. Hale first. If we are going to kill these two in his casino.” Lila of course said no. But that man brought Cassian anyway. My son stepped into this dark little room like it was any other Tuesday—until he saw me. His whole body went still. The blood drained from his face. And then, in the smallest, most broken voice I’d ever heard from him, he whispered, “Mom? What are you doing in my basement?”

I married Rafe Maretti—the man who owned the Maretti Casino empire. Sophisticated, ruthless, but sinfully charming. By year three of our marriage, I introduced my little sister to his nephew, Adam Moretti—twenty-five, all sharp smiles and sharper ambition. He ran the dirtier side of the family’s business—arms, drugs, the kind of trade that dripped blood and money in equal parts. I married the powerful, irresistible uncle. She married the young, dangerous nephew. It was supposed to be our fairytale. Then one day, I got kidnapped in Rafe’s casino. Snatched by a rival mafia family desperate to force Rafe to sign over one of his biggest, most profitable casinos. Except Rafe didn’t answer the phone or even notice I was gone. The kidnappers grew impatient. First, it was slaps. Then punches. Then they shattered my leg and buried a knife in my stomach. Still no word from my husband. Until finally, after what felt like a hundred unanswered calls, a single message came through. "I’m with Bianca. She’s having a stomach. Stop calling." Once the kidnappers realized I had no value, they dumped me in a rotting warehouse like discarded luggage. It was Isla, my sister, who found me. She got me out. And then the brakes failed. The car spun out. Isla went unconscious beside me. I tried calling Adam. Isla’s husband. But as soon the call went through, all I could hear was. “Leave me along. Isla, I am in the middle of something here.” When I clearly heard a woman’s voice in the back. If not for a passing stranger, Isla and me wouldn’t have made it to the hospital, let along have survived. So when I opened my eyes again, the first thing I thought was: I’m divorcing that sorry bastard. The Maretti can go to hell.

My fiancé’s first love Chloe had returned. Rumor had it she’d been overseas, treating some rare disease. I hadn’t believed it—until the day she showed up at my engagement party. And I watched as the man I’d been hopelessly in love with since I was sixteen left our party with her. “Wait for me,” Nathan said, “She is fragile. I need to make sure she is well.” He ignored me, but accompanying her to everywhere. I threw away the rings, trashed the wedding gown. When I was pale and trembling from a heart failure later. Nathan finally showed up. “Don’t you dare die on me, Emily,” His hands were shaking. His voice cracked. “We still have a wedding.”

My mother-in-law’s final wish was simple—she wanted one last trip to Hawaii, to bask in the warmth of the sun before her time ran out. But her son, Vincent, didn’t see it that way. He thought I was manipulating her, using her as an excuse to drag him on a vacation he didn’t want. So, out of spite, he refused to grant her dying wish. I begged him. Pleaded. Swallowed my pride and all the hurt his accusations brought. After relentless persuasion, he finally relented. I thought, at last, I could give Lucy the happiness she deserved. But on the day we were set to leave, Vincent was nowhere to be found. And that same day, Lucy suffered a heart attack. She passed away with only me by her side—never getting to feel the warmth of the sun on her skin one last time. And then I saw it. A picture. Vincent, tagged at a luxury resort with his ex. The caption from her read: Thank you for abandoning your job to take me on this trip. You’re the best. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I didn’t even confront him. I just packed my bags and left. And this time? Vincent found out about the truth and begged me to stay.

I've been in love for six years, but my wedding has been called off 99 times by the man who claims to love me most, the mafia boss, Daniel Reed. The first time is on a private island off the coast of Sorellia. He promises me a secret wedding. But an hour before the ceremony, he gets a call saying that his new assistant, Emily Jennings, has been taken by a rival family. Without a word, he leaves me behind and sails off into the night. The second time, we're standing at the altar, exchanging vows. His underboss then leans in and whispers, "Emily's in trouble." Daniel tears off his boutonniere and walks out without looking back. Emily has been kidnapped again—this time, near the border district. He leads an armed raid that very night while I'm left behind, becoming the laughingstock in the mafia's VIP lounges. No matter when I schedule the wedding, Emily always ends up in danger. And Daniel always runs to her without hesitation. Eventually, I realize I will never win against the reckless Gen Z assistant who constantly drags him into chaos. After the 99th cancellation, I decide to break up with him and disappear from Valemont. I move out overnight, erase every trace of myself, leaving nothing behind. But I never expect him to go completely mad. He shuts down the ports, searches every villa, and unleashes his entire family's intelligence network just to find me. His eyes burn red like a wild animal on the edge of collapse. "Elara," he growls, "just give me one more chance."

My husband, Lucas Gabriel, and I were on our way to sell paintings when we got robbed. I used all my strength to fight off the robbers. I wanted to keep Lucas’s hands safe so that he could keep painting. However, he failed to escape. He threw his paintings on the ground and yelled at me, “This is all your fault, Aria! “If I had married Chloe instead of you, I would be the leader of the Lenza Group in Ros Aegeles by now! I wouldn’t be some poor, helpless painter!” Right before the robbers killed me, I finally realized that he never got over his childhood sweetheart, Chloe Lionel. That was why he never wanted to have children with me while we were married. When I opened my eyes again, we had both returned to a time before our marriage. This time, we went our separate ways. I cut ties with him and left Ros Angeles to focus on medical research. Seven years later, I returned. Lucas was already the boss of Cosa. He had Chloe in his arms and mocked me. “I know you’ve loved me in both lives, but did you really have to stay single for me?” I ignored him and held my son’s hand. He lost it. His eyes turned red with anger as he demanded, “Whose child is that?! Didn’t you say you would only have my children?!”

At our college graduation, my fiance suddenly proposed to Lillie Stewart, my best friend, in front of everyone. I became a joke in front of everyone. Right after Lillie accepted my fiance’s proposal, Lloyd Becker, heir to the biggest mafia family on the West Coast, publicly said he loved me. Lloyd was known in the mafia world for being serious and never getting involved with women. So, when he showed an interest in an orphan like me, it made the news. We got married, and for five years, he was so sweet and treated me like a princess. But one day, I accidentally overheard him talking to his friend. “Lillie is already set to become the future lady of the Gacira family. Are you really going to keep the act up with Nelly?” “If I can’t have Lillie, it doesn’t matter who I marry. As long as I’m with Nelly, Lillie can live peacefully.” He even gave Lillie the symbol of the Becker family’s lady. He helped Lillie build her career while letting me fade into the background. After five years of marriage, I finally understood. On our fifth anniversary, I pretended to die in a shooting so he could be with the woman he truly loved. But instead of being happy, Lloyd completely broke down.

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.

Attending the ten-year high school reunion for the cheerleading squad and football team, I arrived in an old domestic Ford, while the parking lot was filled with Lamborghinis, Ferraris, Maybachs, and even a gold Bugatti. It was as if I were the only relic from another era. The moment I stepped out of my car, a former classmate, whose name I could no longer remember, looked at me with a sneer. “Well, if it isn’t the coach’s pet. How is it that after all these years, you’re still driving this beat-up old Ford?” “This thing looks like it belongs in a scrapyard from the last century!” During dinner, everyone gathered around the Bugatti owner, raising their glasses in celebration, while I was left ignored at the side. Only the cheerleading assistant sat next to me, raising a glass in my direction with a comforting smile. “Don’t let it get to you. Your car may be old, but I believe you’ll be driving a luxury car one day.” I let a small smirk curl at the corner of my lips and lowered my voice. “This car may look unimpressive, but it’s been fully upgraded with a carbon fiber body. It’s already worth over half a million dollars. Too bad, none of you even recognized its true value.”

My marriage to Lucian Hawke was hailed as the most perfect union in the mafia world. As the daughter of the Sinclair family and him being the sole heir of the Hawke family, our marriage united the two most powerful mafia families in the Northeastern. I thought we were unbreakable. Then, I was diagnosed with terminal cancer. As if life couldn’t get any worse, my husband's first love returned—on the very same day. That night, the man I’d been married to for years didn’t come home. The next morning, his voice was cold, distant. Indifferent. “I’ve got the divorce papers ready. When can you come sign them?” I hesitated, struggling to steady my voice. “I’m still at the hospital.” He didn’t even pause. “I don’t care if you're on your deathbed, Elara. Come home and sign the goddamn papers.” My heart shattered, but I refused to let it show. “As you wish, Lucian.” What he didn’t know was that I was dying—literally. A week later, at my funeral, Lucian wearing a tuxedo, weeping at my grave, whispering regrets he should have voiced when I was still breathing. Ironically, my funeral day, was also his wedding day with his sweetheart. But it was too late, my love. This time, you’ll never see me again.