Short Mafia Stories & Novels

Three years ago, on the day I married Luca Moretti, he personally handed me a marriage contract with a fixed term of three years. His tone was casual, indifferent, as if he were discussing an ordinary business deal. "This marriage exists solely to serve the alliance of interests between the Morettis and the Vitales. Sign this agreement. After three years, the marriage will automatically dissolve. When that time comes, you can go and pursue your true love." I barely hesitated before signing. Ten years earlier, at an inter-family business gala, when I was ten and Luca was sixteen, I had already fallen hopelessly in love with him. What looked like a strategic alliance was, in truth, the outcome of my decade-long unrequited love. During the three years of our marriage, Luca was attentive and gentle toward me. Over time, I began to believe I was loved. I sank into that illusion, unable to pull myself out, forgetting entirely about the agreement. That illusion was shattered completely on the night of our third wedding anniversary. That evening, Luca arrived with Elena, who had just returned to New York, and attended what was supposed to be our third anniversary celebration together. She stood beside him with ease and composure, smoothly engaging with business partners. People praised her, saying she looked more like the Donna of the Moretti family. In that moment, even though Luca never mentioned the agreement again, I understood clearly that it was time for me to step aside. After breaking free from his control, crossing an ocean to rebuild myself, and becoming a brilliant leader in my industry, I would no longer wait for his love.

When I opened my eyes again, I was pinned against the floor-to-ceiling window of the skyscraper by my stepbrother, Rocco. The man I had been infatuated with for a decade. He panted, his hot lips and tongue trailing along my collarbone as he murmured, "Don't go." In my past life, on the night I received my acceptance letter from London Business School, Rocco got blind drunk. Late that night, I gave in to his pleas for me to stay. I willingly gave myself to him. After a debauched night, his cherished fiancée, Clara, caught me walking out of his room the next morning, my clothes in disarray. She ran out in tears, her parting words ringing in the air, "I'll let you have each other." A month after she disappeared, the family search party found her engagement ring at the edge of a cliff. At the bottom of the cliff lay mangled remains, battered by the waves until they were unrecognizable. Rocco clutched that ring and didn't sleep all night. On the surface, he acted as if nothing had happened, even arranging a trip for me to Sicily, telling me to go and relax. The night I landed, I was kidnapped by assassins from a rival family. I screamed for him to pay the ransom, only to hear him give the order himself over the phone: "Don't make her death a quick one. The Costello princess? She's nothing but a damn liability. Torture her. Break every bone in her body. " "This is what she owes Clara." You like playing games, Rocco. But in this life, I refuse to play along.