Short Mafia Stories & Novels

On Christmas night, I've roasted a whole turkey and paired it with the finest red wine. Then, I quietly wait for my boyfriend, Don Carlo Carlione from the Carlione family, to come home to me. When Carlo steps through the front door, he doesn't even spare me a glance. Instead, he throws his blood-stained coat onto the couch and starts undoing his cufflinks. "Something important is going on at the family HQ tonight, so I can't celebrate Christmas with you tonight." He sounds very casual, as though he's talking about the weather. I don't respond to him at all. Instead, I just slice my turkey quietly. Later on at 1:00 am, Carlo's ex-girlfriend, Lucia Caruso, uploads a social media post right on time. In the photo, she can be seen resting her head against Carlo's shoulder. The background shows a night sky filled with fireworks overcasting a grand bridge. The caption reads, "He told me he can always keep me company as long as I say the word." I don't hurl my phone in a fit of anger, nor do I call Carlo to demand for answers hysterically. Instead, I just leave a like on the post. 30 seconds later, Carlo calls me. For once, his voice is tinged with a hint of alarm. "This is just a misunderstanding! I'll definitely celebrate next Christmas with you!" I just shake my head with a soft sigh. "It's a shame that there's no next Christmas for us ever again."

"Are you sure about this, Nancy? Marrying that powerful man means ending things with Tad." "I'm sure. But not yet. Don't tell anyone. Especially not Celia." Celia — the girl I once begged my father to adopt, the one I defended and called sister — betrayed me. The two men who used to treat me like their world — my boyfriend Tad and our family friend Leo — now orbit around her like moths to a flame. I thought I saved her, but she only wanted to replace me. When Celia fell, they blamed me. When she got shot, they blamed me again. When I was in a car crash, they said it was an excuse to avoid "taking care of Celia." But I am Don DeLuca's daughter. And no one treats me this way and walks away unscathed. My boyfriend? He can go to hell. My so-called friends? They can rot with him.

　　Eight years into my time with the Moretti family, I was both their most capable core member and Don Dominic's wife of three years—but we'd never actually signed the marriage contract. 　　Every single time we were about to go to City Hall to register, he'd ditch me for his female subordinate. 　　The first time, he left me waiting on the side of the road all day because she was sick and weak. 　　The second time, he dumped me halfway there because of one phone call from her. 　　After that, I got stood up again and again. 　　After being stood up for the seventeenth time, I decided to give them what they wanted. 　　I accepted the invitation to a top-tier medical project in Paris, packed my bags, and boarded a plane. 　　But when I actually left, he lost his mind...

The school boxing match. My son Leo’s gloves were lined with broken glass. I carried him from the ring. Blood was everywhere, staining the canvas crimson. And Isabella, the monster behind it all, just stood there smirking. A snake's smile. She dragged her son over, then slapped me. Hard. Again and again. She tried to force me to my knees. "Some gutter trash like you… thinks he can challenge the Falcone heir? This is what happens. Believe me, I say the word, and you disappear. Poof." I just raised an eyebrow. The Falcone family has one heir this generation. My son, Leo. So when did a Falcone become gutter trash? I wiped the blood from my lip. I called the Don—the man my father made. "I hear the Falcone family has a new heir." Let's see who has the nerve to touch the old Don's grandson.

Shortly after we said "I do," the Family sent my husband, Dario, down to the Mexican border. He told me it was a meat grinder down there—cartel territory. where guys were zipped into body bags every day. He said he had to go—to expand the territory, for the glory of the Family. He claimed it was too dangerous and that his enemies would paint a target on my back, so he wouldn't take me with him. I believed him. I stayed behind in his old, rot-infested house in New Jersey, taking care of his bitter, spiteful parents. I spent my days and nights in the Family's moldy laundromat, washing bills stained with blood. He told me he sent every dime he made down there to the widow of a brother who took a bullet for him. He asked me to be understanding. I never complained. Day after day, I pressed expensive suits in that humid laundromat, waiting for him to come home. It wasn't until the eighth year that a mobster came back drunk. When I asked about Dario, he froze, then sneered at me through a haze of alcohol. "Dario? Are you kidding? He’s been a King in Manhattan for years. He’s the youngest Underboss of the Corleone family." I stood frozen, the iron in my hand burning a hole right through a shirt. "And he got married seven years ago. Biggest cathedral in New Jersey. Half the mob was there to toast the groom..." He pulled a crumpled photo from his leather jacket. Snuggled up against my husband was a woman in a high-end couture gown—the very same "poor, widowed sister-in-law" he had told me about. The next day, I contacted a fixer who specialized in fake IDs. On the application for a one-way ticket to Europe—a ticket to vanish off the face of the earth—I filled in the fake name I had prepared long ago. He trapped me for seven years with a sham marriage. From now on, I’d be done with this damn loyalty.

Everyone in Ieplad knows Leopoldo Vece, the Don of the Vece family, loves guns but not women—until me. Ten years into our marriage, my adoptive father, Raffaello Conti, lies dying of kidney failure. Leopoldo launches a global hunt for a donor, sparing no expense to save him. He finds her—a young, fragile woman—and spends millions solving her every problem to ensure she is ready for the transplant. On the day of the surgery, she vanishes. I rush to her home in a panic, only to find my husband holding her gently in his arms, soothing her in a soft voice. "If you're afraid of the pain, don't donate then. I'll find another donor." "Is there time?" she asks quietly. "I heard Lucia's adoptive father is at death's door." Leopoldo brushes his hand over her hair, his voice indulgent. "I'll search the world again if I have to. You're still young; this burden isn't yours to carry." As my heart shatters, my phone rings. I answer numbly. The person on the other end of the line says, "Signora Conti, we regret to inform you that Raffaello Conti just passed away. We waited as long as we could for the donor, but his body gave out five minutes ago." I return to the hospital and handle the funeral arrangements alone. After that, I call Marianna D'Andrea, the Don's mother, and say, "I agree to divorce Leopoldo. Please help me disappear."

In the tenth year of being held captive by Kevin Hemsworth, he lost his memory in a car accident. When he woke up and saw my bloated figure, he frowned in disgust. "Who are you?" Recalling his past threats, I was terrified this was just another test. So I told him the truth that I had been by his side all these years. He laughed sarcastically. "Don't joke around. You're not my type." Laura Powell, my friend who had secretly loved him for ten years, pointed at me and cursed, "Just because you look a little like me, you barged into Kevin's life and became his maid. Fine. But how dare you pretend to be his lover?" As punishment for lying, Laura had me dragged away from Kevin. She broke my hands and slashed my face. Lying on the ground and barely alive, I smiled at Kevin. For the past ten years, he never allowed me to escape, but he wouldn't let me die either. Now, I leaped off a cliff under his cold gaze. He wouldn't have my body even after I died.

Christmas Eve was meant to be the culmination of seven years of long-distance longing—the day Lorenzo finally slid an engagement ring onto my finger. Instead, a sudden emergency surgery chained me to the operating table. The patient wasn't just suffering from a premature delivery and catastrophic hemorrhaging; she was riddled with infections, the biological fallout of a reckless, hedonistic lifestyle. The girl on the table spat out orders with a venomous entitlement that made my blood run cold. "My husband is the head of the Corleone family. He’s second to none, and this entire city bows to him. If you can’t save my baby, you’re all dead." My mind went blank. There was only one head of the Corleone family: Lorenzo. "You’ve got the wrong man," I said, my voice wavering despite my frown. "The news said he’s already engaged to a woman from a rival family for a strategic alliance." The girl looked at me as if I’d just told a pathetic joke. She surveyed me with a mocking sneer. "Oh, he’s mentioned that woman. He said she’s like a cold corpse—that even touching her makes him sick to his stomach. She doesn't provide him a fraction of the pleasure I do." She smirked. "He heard something happened to the baby. He’s en route from Sicily right now with his personal detail." She flicked her phone screen open. There it was: a photo of her and Lorenzo, locked in a suffocatingly intimate embrace. I froze. A second later, a notification from Lorenzo vibrated against my palm. “Darlin’, something urgent came up tonight. I’m skipping the engagement dinner. I’ll make it up to you later.” Since they were so utterly in love, I decided to give them exactly what they wanted. I dialed a number that had been silent for three years—the number of the true mastermind of the underworld, Don Sebastian. "Does your proposal from three years ago still stand?"

The sixth year I gave up my family, my name, everything, to be with Marcus. That’s when I found out I was just a stand-in for the one he could never forget. And now, she was back. I accepted my family’s arrangement. The marriage alliance. The day my engagement dress arrived at the office, Marcus looked pissed. “I thought we agreed we’d get married when my career was more stable.” I said nothing. But when the wedding invitation arrived, Marcus finally broke. The groom wasn't him. It was the heir to the Moretti family.

I was performing the hundredth "restoration" surgery on my mafia husband's latest mistress when I finally decided to leave him. For five years, I, Isabella Rossi, have lived a double life: the respected wife of a powerful Don, and the personal physician tasked with "purifying" the women he discards. Vincent's twisted religious conviction is his law: only a wife untouched by any other man can bear his legitimate heir. I was that pure wife, yet he treated me as his most unclean possession. My love for him died a slow death. A thousand empty nights. It was killed by the cold steel of my own operating table. By the sounds of other women boasting about his touch. The five-year prenuptial agreement that bound me to this hell was set to expire at midnight. I had already called my grandfather, the only man Vincent truly fears. My escape was hours away. By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late.

When I was seven, Victor Medici took me off the streets of Brooklyn. From that moment on, I became a blade hidden in the shadows of the Medici family. The Medici family was one of the five major mafia families in New York City, and Victor was the family’s Don. By fifteen, I had learned how to handle a gun and a knife. I could carry out the family’s “clean-up” orders with precision. By eighteen, I led a team that wiped out three weapons hubs belonging to the rival Rina mafia family, securing the East Side territory for Victor. At twenty-one, during a hearing, I took the fall for Victor’s crimes. In the end, I was sentenced to three years in prison. The day I got out, he took me straight to Las Vegas to get married. With his own hands, he slipped a ruby ring onto my finger—a symbol of the Donna. Under the witness’s gaze, he kissed me, his voice almost reverent. “Rachel, I love you. You’re my only weakness.” Then, he pulled out a stamped and signed contract from his suit pocket. “This is my wedding gift to you. If I ever betray you, my power, my status, and my wealth will be transferred into your name, and I’ll walk away with nothing.” After a pause, he gave a sly smile and added, “But that day will never come. Because I’ll always love you.” I took the contract, so happy that I felt like I might cry, but that happiness only lasted two years.

At the family meeting, my mafia Don husband spared his secretary one glance. I turned and walked away, canceled our wedding anniversary celebration, and decided I was done with him. I signed my name on the divorce papers I had prepared long ago. When Matteo Santoro saw the agreement, he called me at once, his voice tight with restrained anger. "What are you trying to pull this time? Is this really because I looked at Elena?" "Yes," I said. "Because you looked at her."

After a vicious family power struggle, I fled to a small border town in the south. I took on a new identity and found work in a flower shop. Everyone believed I was dead. Then one day, someone from the family came to the shop to order flowers for the birthday party for Roman Jackson, the head of the Jackson family. The person who arrived was my former Underboss. She stared at me in shock and demanded to know why I had not returned to the Jackson family if I was still alive. She told me that Roman had kept watch over my grave for two years and that he had attempted suicide three times in the cemetery, each time stopped by someone else. Roman was my ex-husband. He had an adopted sister, Liliana. Fifteen years ago, her parents were gunned down while covering Roman's father's escape from a rival family. After that, Liliana became Roman's most cherished sister. She tampered with my armored car. The brakes failed, and the vehicle plunged off a cliff. I broke three ribs. Roman mobilized every resource the family had and pulled me back from the brink of death. She bribed my bodyguard and laced my red wine with a neurotoxin. I lay unconscious in the villa for three days and nights. Roman sealed off the entire city, hunted down everyone involved, and made them pay in blood. She tried to kill me, and he saved me. This absurd cycle went on for three years. Until the last time. She detonated a bomb at an arms deal I was overseeing, burning seventy percent of my body. As I was lifted onto the ambulance stretcher, I clutched Roman's suit and, with the last of my strength, begged him. "Kill her, Roman. She sabotaged the deal. Those are the family rules." He crouched down, his fingers brushing my bloodstained face. His voice was calm, almost cruel. "Liliana didn't mean to. Let it go. For the sake of what her parents sacrificed for the family." In that moment, my heart to him died completely.

After I was brought back from the kidnapping, my mafia boss husband, Jonathan Caruso, arranges for me to live in a new villa. "You've suffered so much over the years, Nat…" Jonathan caresses the scar on my face, sympathy and pain evident on his face. As I listen to his words, I just smirk in return. Sure, he's been keeping up a loving and devoted facade. Unfortunately for him, I've always known that he doesn't want me to survive at all. After all, he's the one who has delivered me into the dark and damp water prison three years ago as a wedding gift for Governor Frederick Romano in order to marry his daughter, Kelsey Romano.

Michele Giuliani successfully takes the throne as the leader of the mafia forces in Costa Morala. During an interview, a reporter asks, "According to our observations, you've never concealed or removed the old alphabetic tattoo below your collarbone. Does that mean it has a special meaning to you?" Michele shakes his head with a sneer. "Five years ago, my fiancee, Alma Rossito, looked down on me because the Giulianis had lost their power and authority among the families. So, she ran off to be with another rich man. "Whenever I wanted to give up, I'd be reminded of her betrayal as soon as I laid my eyes on this tattoo. "Now that I've lasted this long, I just want to personally ask her a question." Michele digs out his phone and dials the number he has pinned at the top of his contact list without hesitation. "Alma, do you regret dumping my ass the moment I was kicked out of my family?" I turn the camera toward the chaotic underground casino and reply lazily, "Yeah, I regret doing that to you, Don Giuliani. But I've lost every cent under my name on horse-betting. Can you transfer 50 thousand dollars to me first so that I can earn my money back?" Michele ends the call instantly before punching the mirror next to him. The cracks in the mirror happen to reflect the dark tattoo beneath his collar. What Michele doesn't know is that I'm being held in the casino by loan sharks. Five years ago, I had taken out a huge loan from them and bribed the necessary connections as an anonymous party. That was how Michele got the opportunity to turn the tides in his favor and become the mafia king.

One week before our wedding, my fiancé, my father’s own consigliere, sold him out.He set him up for a FBI raid. My father died in a pool of blood, his eyes wide open, and the once-great Moretti family collapsed overnight. In my darkest hour, Dominic, the Don of the New York Luciani family, showed up with a crew of mercenaries. He didn't just take care of the rat; he gave me total protection. He obsessed over me for three years, even tattooing my name over his heart. I fell for it. I believed he loved me. I let my guard down and stayed by his side, serving as the lead perfumer for the coldest man in the city. Until today. Outside the wine cellar, I overheard him talking to his rival. "Old man Moretti died never knowing who had leaked his location," Dominic said. "But imagine if that stupid woman, Elena, found out," the rival mocked. "If she knew the man who killed her father was the same husband kissing her forehead every night... would she lose her mind?" My hand froze on the cellar door. The rival’s laughter came through the cracks: "You’re cold-blooded, Dominic! Elena thinks you’re her savior. She even wants to give you an heir. She’d never dream the raid that destroyed her life was actually your offering to Sienna."

I, Calista Summers, have been in a secret relationship with Vernon Grayson, the boss of the biggest mafia organization in Merdico for five years. To others, Vernon is the epitome of a perfect gentleman, cold yet aloof, attractive yet abstaining from women. With a net worth in the tens of billions, he holds a lot of power. He has also kept himself scandal-free since the start of time. However, not many know that I am his only exception. I am the team captain of the cheerleading squad at Duke City College. I am known to be brave, straightforward, and passionate about everything. Vernon is a whole decade older than I am. He is mature and dangerous, but those are the exact qualities that draw me to him every time. He always lets me rest my head in his lap while in the back of his limited-edition Rolls-Royce, kisses every inch of my body before the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office, and takes my breath away in hidden toilet cubicles at major public charity galas. And every time, he's so gentle with me that I keep mistaking his doting on me as his love for me. Yet, he can also get cruel and merciless with me, making me beg and whine at his mercy. As for me, I was really falling for him because Vernon never lets any other woman get close to him. He chooses me every single time, and I believe that's what true love is. However, things change when his first love, Samara Horton, returns from Urop. Vernon starts showing me his cold, aloof side that leaves no room for argument. He stops being gentle with me, his mask falls away to reveal his true colors, and he no longer treats me as his equal who shares his world. At that moment, I finally realize that I am nothing more than a dirty secret he needs to keep hidden from the rest of the world. I am but a pawn that he can easily cast away at his convenience. I choose to put an end to our secret relationship altogether. I leave, taking nothing of his with me except for the baby in my womb. The baby is his heir, but he doesn't even know that he exists.

I've spent a huge sum of money on a custom-fitted gown just so I can go on a date with my fiance, Vincenzo Rossi, on New Year's Eve. He's also known as the rising star of the mafia underworld. But Vincenzo sounds very impatient on the other end of the line. "Can you stop being so clingy, Grazia? I have an important business gathering to get to on New Year's Eve!" His younger sister, Valentina Rossi, adds, "My brother's doing this for the sake of your shared future, Grazia. Stop causing trouble for him, okay?" I end the call, feeling disappointed. After that, I console myself, saying that Vincenzo is working very hard for the sake of our future. But that illusion only lasts till the moment my friend sends a video clip to me. Vincenzo can be seen hugging a gorgeous woman in the clubhouse. They are in the middle of making out with each other. Valentina, on the other hand, leads her friends on as they cheer for the couple. It turns out that Vincenzo's "important business" is to spend the night with another woman. I drain my glass of the strong alcohol. Scorching pain flares from my stomach immediately. Since Vincenzo can find himself a woman to toy with, then why can't I do the same? I swipe a finger across my phone and dial the number of the rival family's Don. "I want you to order the two most good-looking male escorts for me right now."

When I was three months pregnant, my Don husband’s so-called step sister, Ruby, showed up at my door. Her swollen belly was impossible to miss, “Donna, since my due date is so close, I thought you should know… the Don’s heir is in my belly.” She laid everything in front of me—intimate photos of her and Caleb, records of the weekly money transfers he sent her, even the deed to a mansion. The earliest dates traced back to the time I lost our first baby, when the doctors told me it would be difficult for me to conceive again. All these years, I had been enduring IVF treatments, desperately trying to carry our child once more—while he was fooling around with his so-called step sister. Well, if Caleb wanted another woman so badly, he could have her. I had no intention of staying anyway. I was already planning my leave.

Don Fiorenzo Ricci saved me and brought me home, raising me for seven years. During the day, he was refined and restrained, treating me the way a true father would. At night, he was endlessly inventive, making me his and his alone. I drowned myself in this twisted love, naively believing I was the only one for Fiorenzo. Then he turned around and married another woman, made her the Madre of the mafia family, and forced me to watch them together. I was done being a piece in their twisted games. The first time I ran, he nearly killed the maid who helped me. The second time I ran, he shot the gardener dead on the spot. The third time, and the last, I jumped into the ocean right in front of him. I did it all for freedom, even if it was only the freedom of my soul after death.