Short Mafia Stories & Novels

In my first life, I believed love was salvation. I tore my future apart for two men who had grown up beside me—Marcus Black and Damian Knight. I chose one of them, only to be abandoned on my wedding day for Elena Rivers. My grandmother died that same day, shattered by grief. When I was at my lowest, the other man took my hand and promised he would never betray me. I believed him. I married him. And slowly, my world went cold. I thought his distance was regret. I thought my failing health was fate. Until the night I was dying, and I watched him run past me—to save Elena, whose injuries were nothing more than a scratch. That was when I understood. My life had never been a love story. It was a carefully scripted game. After my death, I learned the truth: Marcus and Damian had already written their wills, leaving everything to Elena Rivers. They had sabotaged my education, manipulated my career, and even fabricated a chronic illness to keep me weak, dependent, and easy to control. They never wanted me to succeed. They only wanted me quiet—so Elena could shine. But fate gave me another chance. This time, I tore up my admission letter to Harvard. This time, I rejected their confessions before they could cage me again. In this life, I will not be the woman they use, betray, or discard. I will live for myself. And I will never walk the same path twice.

My sister wanted to make a quick buck selling herself on a cruise ship. I tried desperately to stop her, but my entire family held me down and drowned me in the ocean instead. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment before she left. This time, I smiled while helping her with her makeup. "Let me send you off properly, sis." Later, her screams echoed through the nightmare aboard that ship. I stood safe in the arms of a mafia Don who held me close. "Figlia, your Papa finally found you." Meanwhile, my adoptive parents and sister were on their knees across the deck, begging me to spare their worthless lives.

I'm going to die. In the eyes of the underworld, I was a sinner. My death would be a final, cursed dishonor. But even with the Ricci family in ruins, I was still the noble Principessa. The Ricci pride in my blood would not allow my body to fall into the hands of a rival Family. Humiliation. Desecration. Photographs flaunted for all to see. I didn't much care if my body became a trophy to celebrate their victory. But if the world knew the last of the Ricci bloodline had become a plaything for our enemies, it would be a disgrace to the entire Family. After weighing my options, I dragged my broken body to the turf of my ex-boyfriend, the man I'd left seven years ago, now the Don of the Falcone family. "After I die, I need you to handle my body." He was silent for a long moment, then let out a cold laugh. "Of course. I'll sink you in the Hudson River with a tombstone tied to your feet, engraved with the name of your filthy family."

On the night before the wedding, New York was washed in cold rain. The rehearsal at St. Patrick's Cathedral had been set for seven o'clock. Under the vaulted ceiling, the white roses, black satin bows, and silver candelabras had all been arranged exactly the way I wanted. But by the time the rehearsal ended, he still hadn't shown up. At 11:17 that night, I finally got a message from him. [Sophia is pregnant. Although the baby isn’t mine, I can’t let her child be born carrying the name of an illegitimate child.] [I went to City Hall with her tonight and made it legal.] [The wedding is still happening tomorrow.] [That piece of paper is just a formality. The person standing at the altar will still be you.] [Don't let outsiders know too much. And don't ruin her reputation.] I stared at those lines for a long time. In the end, I replied with a single word. [Okay.] I don't want the wedding and you.

My boyfriend, Jules Gray, was the most ruthless young Don of his family, while I was the best mercenary who had once struck fear into the hearts of the underworld. He said he liked gentle women, so I laid down my weapons for love. We were at war. To settle it, he broke my hand and sent me to the Grays' rival family as a 'sacrifice'. "Skylar Shaw, it's your honor to die for the Gray family." Three years later, I returned as the Donna, took over his territory, and blew up his arms ships. When he knelt before me, begging for mercy out of our past ties, I grabbed his neck with my mechanical right hand and fired the gun without hesitation. "Survival rule number one—the loser dies!"

In my previous life, I fell in love with Dante Ravenna, the Don of the Ravenna family who also happened to be my uncle without any blood relations. As soon as I found out that Dante was drugged with aphrodisiacs, I didn't hesitate to become his antidote. One month later, I found out that I was pregnant with his baby. Because of that, the old Don pressured Dante into marrying me. On the day of our marriage, Dante's first love, Serafina Calvetti, had flown overseas out of heartbreak, only to get kidnapped by one of the Ravennas' rival families. They ended up killing her in cold blood. Before Serafina died, she had called Dante 199 times for help. But Dante never picked up any of them because of how busy he was with the wedding preparations. When the damage was done, Dante just stared at the 199 missed calls without saying anything. In fact, my life after marriage was even better and happier than before. I thought Dante had already let go of Serafina's death. What I didn't expect was that he'd lock me up in the basement on the day I was supposed to give birth. I ended up suffering from heavy bleeding. With one foot in the grave, I begged Dante to take me to the hospital. Yet, he just stood by and watched as my unborn baby and I died in front of him. Before I breathed my last, I heard his cold and ruthless voice. "I would've married Serafina a long time ago if it wasn't for you using every trick in the book just to sleep with me and get pregnant with my baby!" When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Dante gets drugged. In this life, I refuse to serve as Dante's antidote. Instead, I call Serafina on the phone.

I'd never forget how cold the icy waters of the Sandford River were. In my previous life, I was Dalia Valentino, the future Donna of the Rossi family that they'd already acknowledged. But later on, I got betrayed by my fiance, Marco Rossi, and my cousin, Alice Palermo. They stole my betrothal contract away and took over my family's resources. In the end, they used me as a human shield and got me killed during a crossfire between our families. The moment I felt a bullet penetrating my chest, I saw Marco protecting Alice. As for my childhood friend, Riccardo Corleone, who had always watched me from behind, rushed over to me like a madman. He scooped my cooling corpse into his arms before letting out an anguished roar. That was why after I got reborn, I didn't hesitate to kick Marco to the curb and marry Riccardo, resulting in me becoming the Donna of the Corleone family. I thought Riccardo was my savior. Little did I know that fate was just playing a crueler prank on me. Both men had always been in love with the same woman this whole time. In this case, I decided to quit this game of romance and deceit.

It was only on our first wedding anniversary that I realized the rubbers I bought before our wedding had long expired. No one would believe that my mafia husband, Andre Garcia, and I had never consummated our marriage. That night, I gathered my courage and bought a suggestive nightgown. After downing three glasses of whisky, I hugged Andre tightly and whispered in his ear, "Darling, let's do it today. I want you..." However, Andre shook my hand off indifferently as if he were handling a gun. "Danielle Lawson, do you have no shame? You've done such shameless things time and time again. If you're really that lonely, I'll order you some toys so you can play with them to your heart's content." My face turned deathly pale as I stood there, stunned. I could not understand why a wife begging for her husband's affection was considered 'shameless' behavior. I curled up on the couch, unable to help but ask on social media. Danielle: [My husband has no dysfunction. Why won't he touch me after marriage?] Someone replied: [Perhaps your husband has someone else.] Like a dagger, that comment pierced me awake. I suddenly realized—maybe the problem was not that I was unattractive but rather that he was never mine. The moment I deleted my account, I also made the decision to leave. Who could have imagined that Andre, who would usually not even glance at me, would frantically search for me after I disappeared? "Danielle, I can't get a hard-on after you left!"

"Take off your clothes. Spread your legs." "...What? Why?" The voice cut through the silence, and my heart seized. I instinctively covered my stomach. It was the first anniversary of my marriage to Alessandro, the Don of the Santoro family. I was pregnant and had wanted to surprise him. But his secretary, Liliana, had blindfolded me and brought me to this unfamiliar place. "Donna, stop playing the victim. Seducing men is your specialty, isn't it?" "Tonight, in this underground auction house, you are the final item on the block." A chill shot down my spine, and my voice trembled. "Are you insane? I'm the Donna of the Santoro family! I'm carrying his heir! Alessandro will kill you..." Liliana scoffed and ripped off my blindfold. Blinding lights bore down on me. I squinted, and gradually, a man sitting in the VIP section came into view... It was Alessandro! I stared in disbelief as he slowly extinguished the cigar in his hand. "Pregnant? Whose bastard are you carrying?" "It's yours!" I cried out. "Liar!" He raised his hand, and a report was tossed at my feet. The bold letters "PROBABILITY OF PATERNITY: 0%" burned my eyes. He came closer and gripped my chin. "Liliana was right. Women like you are rotten to the core." "My love was never enough to satisfy your greed." "And I, Alessandro, will never raise another man's bastard." Later, he finally learned the child was his. For the first time, the man who was always so composed, arrogant, and in control knelt before me, his voice trembling. "Celeste, I'm begging you... even if you can't forgive me, please, let me make it up to you." But I felt nothing for him anymore.

The most powerful Godfather in the mafia underworld—Dante Costello—had an expensive diamond signet ring custom-made to fit my finger perfectly and sent straight to our home. He said that whoever could wear the ring would become the lady of his family. The Monroe family had long since fallen from grace. All that remained were four women. On ordinary days, we fought endlessly, tearing each other apart. Every single one of us wanted to marry Dante because marrying him meant preserving a life of dignity and comfort. In the first life, the fake heiress, Blair, secretly had the ring resized smaller and married into the family. Dante took one look at her, then had her thrown into the river to drown. “Not her.” In the second life, my cousin, Chloe, underwent plastic surgery to alter her fingers and force the ring on. Dante gifted her a staged car accident. “Still not her.” In the third life, my stepmother, Catherine, clenched her teeth and forced the ring onto her finger. Her blood hadn’t even dried when she married Dante. He coldly slashed her face, then locked her in the basement, where she slowly wasted away until death. By the fourth life, all three of them were terrified. None of them dared to marry him anymore, so they hurriedly pushed me forward instead. I put on the ring. This time, the size was perfect. Just when I thought my good days had finally begun, Dante stabbed me to death on our wedding night, his eyes burning red with madness. After my rebirth, the consigliere of the Dante family delivered the ring once again. This time, all four of us avoided it like the plague.

I'm married to Don Antonio Gallo for ten years. My hands, which are originally meant to play the piano, have learned to assemble guns and take apart bombs for him. I was there with Antonio when he was just a lowly criminal, and I witnessed his entire journey to the summit, where he claimed the throne as the king of the underground casino. But right after Antonio becomes successful in life, he gets infatuated with a pure and innocent maiden from the slums. That maiden is Silvia Bianchi. She was delivered to Antonio's bed like cargo. A maiden like her is as pure as an angel, yet so delicate like porcelain. For the first time ever, Antonio, who's already used to bloodshed and violence, gets a taste of addiction. He's really good at hiding her presence. I only find out about it when I accidentally come across him and Silvia attending a prenatal checkup together. When I break down and demand an explanation from Antonio, he just hands over a divorce agreement nonchalantly. "Silvia doesn't have anyone to rely on, nor does she have a home to go back to. Once she has a proper title, she and her baby won't get bullied anymore. "If you sign this document, I'll give you 20% of my shares. Once Silvia gives birth to her baby, I'll make sure that the baby acknowledges you as their mother as well. Consider this my compensation to you." Of course, I can't accept it at all. I end up slapping Silvia on the face during her baby's first party. That night, my younger brother, Paolo Romano, gets crippled and strapped to the front of an armored truck. "This is the lesson you shall learn for hurting Silvia, Valentina!" I kneel on the ground and beg Antonio to stop. But the moment the engine starts, I feel Paolo's blood being sprayed all over my face. Sharp pain flares from my abdomen immediately. I can only clutch it while screaming hysterically before passing out. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Antonio and Silvia are attending a prenatal checkup together. This time, I no longer ask Antonio any questions. Instead, I secretly sell all of the jewelry I've secretly kept and buy myself two plane tickets. Now, I just want to escape from Antonio with Paolo by my side.

After three years of marriage, I finally got pregnant—my mafia husband treated me like his queen. Every day felt like heaven, until she came back—his first love, Eloise Rosenveil. On his birthday, after answering Eloise’s usual call, he turned to me and said softly, “Darling, you’ve been working so hard carrying our child. There’ll be too many people at the party—I don’t want you to get hurt.” But that day wasn’t just his birthday. It was our one-thousandth day of marriage. So I decided to surprise him anyway. I baked a mango cake and went to the party. Only to find him playing a kissing game with Eloise, surrounded by laughter and cheers. When he rushed to explain himself, Eloise, consumed by jealousy, pushed me—and I lost the baby. With the child gone, my heart died too. Since he had always loved his first love, I decided to grant his wish and walk away. But why… why did Lawrence lose his mind searching for me everywhere after I left?

I woke in the middle of the night to my Don husband murmuring in his sleep. “Juno, be good. Tomorrow I’ll buy you and Mamma a new house.” My eyes flew open. Juno? That was the name I’d always planned for a purebred Ceylon cat I dreamed of owning, but I’d never gotten one because of my pet fur allergy. And a new house? Could this just be a coincidence? I shook him lightly. “What did you just say?” He frowned and mumbled coarsely, “Had a nightmare. Dreamt of a shootout.” I didn’t press further. In the darkness, I reached for his phone and silently opened his messages.

The nights in Vicente were a coexistence of order and gunfire. Tonight was the wedding, ten years overdue, between Anthony Oliver, the don of the Oliver mafia family, and Mabel Samson, the woman who had stood beside him through bloodshed, betrayals, and underworld wars. A top-tier luxury hotel had been cleared by the family's soldati. Below them glittered a sea of city lights; above them bloomed fireworks commissioned for the future Donna alone. The man known for his ruthlessness knelt on one knee with a rare diamond ring, his eyes filled with rare tenderness. "Mabel," he said, "you walked through hell at my side. Let me give you peace for the rest of your life." It seemed that all the sacrifices and patience had finally led somewhere. However, just as Mabel's fingers were about to touch the ring, a piercing scream came from above. "Don't! Anthony! Save me!" That single cry drew all of Anthony's attention away. The girl was not unfamiliar to Mabel. Two years earlier, Anthony's twin brother had been tortured to death by a rival mafia family while covering his retreat. His body was never recovered. And Cheryl Reyes was the fiancée he had protected with his life. Mabel watched as the man she loved abandoned everything without hesitation and ran toward another woman. She stepped forward and tried to stop him. "Don't go. The wedding isn't over." However, when their eyes met, the Don accused her coldly of being heartless and selfish. And in that moment, Mabel felt tired. Perhaps it was time, just once, to choose herself over the Family.

My birthday present this year is a written contract titled 'Behavioral Reform Contract'. My fiance, who was the mafia head Matteo Giovanni, and my parents have already signed their names at the bottom. Together, they had me sent to the Behavioral Correction Center. … The windows are always shut, and the sunlight is filtered through the metal window bars. They drug, reprimand, and ostracize me to make me shove my feelings of aggrievement down. Even while I am being humiliated and punished, they teach me to force a smile and maintain a steady breath. It was all done in the name of "treating" me. A year passes, and I go from being a so-called "troublemaker" to their ideal version of me—quiet, elegant, and utterly perfect. Matteo beams at me and says, "You've finally become my perfect wife. We can finally marry." I match his smile, a gesture that they think means obedience from my part. However, it is not true. It is just me bidding my farewell before I leave for good. There's something I don't understand, however. They constantly found me lacking, so now that I am gone from their lives, why are they falling apart?

I had just suffered a miscarriage. With trembling fingers, I called my husband, only to hear the sounds of a rowdy party on the other end. "Don, this was supposed to be your anniversary gift for your wife," a voice teased amidst the cheers. "Giving it to Miss Lena instead—aren't you afraid your lady will throw a fit?" Vincent's voice was deep and dismissive. "Lena's brother died saving my life. I owe her. As for Isabella... she's gentle. She'll understand." He paused, his tone turning colder. "Besides, she came to me with those scandalous rumors surrounding her past. The resources the Corleone family has given her over the years are more than enough to compensate for these little grievances." As blood stained the hem of my skirt, I silently pressed the end-call button. Tears fell uncontrollably. He doesn't know yet—the baby is gone, and I am finally done with him.

I used to think my husband was the angel who saved me from the depths of hell. Five years ago, I would have died for my ex-fiance, Marco Lombardi, but his carelessness caused Mom's kidneys to fail. He ignored 99 of my calls, and with an empty bank account, I couldn't even afford the surgery to donate my kidney to her. Only later did I discover that during that time, he was having romantic getaways with my stepsister, Penny Rossi. When I hit rock bottom, mafia Don Leon Costa showed up. He got me the best doctors, handled everything when Mom died, and even proposed to me when I was a complete mess. In our five years of marriage, he has spoiled me rotten. I've almost forgotten how much Marco and Penny hurt me. Then, today, I overhear his phone call with Penny. "Leon, thank you for giving my sister's kidney to my mother back then." My beloved husband just brushes it off. "Don't worry about it. I'll look after your sister. She won't ever know." He laughs quietly, and his voice is full of warmth. "You know I hate seeing you cry."

On the day Tristan Spallone, the head of a mafia family, and I mark our fifth wedding anniversary, the manager of the Spallone family vault calls. Something that was stored away for a long time has finally come due, and Tristan is to retrieve it. He's so busy that he barely has a moment to breathe, so I go in his place. What I bring back is an old roll of film. The manager warned me that if it wasn’t developed soon, its age might cause it to be ruined beyond recovery. But when I have them developed, frame after frame is filled with Winnie Leigh, his first love. Her smile looks so sweet in those pictures that they nearly suffocate me. What about me, one may ask? I never once appeared on his albums. The office door slams open. Tristan bursts in, already out of breath. "Anna, is your life really so empty that you have to dig through mine?" I turn toward him, the man who's usually so composed. I neither question him nor break down. Instead, I speak slowly. "We're getting a divorce." Tristan frowns and thrusts the stack of photos into the shredder. He then looks back at me. "They're gone. Do you still want a divorce?" A bitter smile tugs at my lips. "Yes."

The doctors said it was over—stage four, nothing left to fight. I had three days, max. I signed the organ donor papers myself. If I was gonna die, at least someone else could get a second shot. Told my family I was sick. But my so-called sister—the doctor—shrugged it off like I was making it up. She convinced them I was losing it, not dying. My parents and fiancé fell for it. Handed me over like she was some hero. She wasn't. She pushed me closer to the end. And when I finally died, the same people who wouldn't listen cried like they hadn't let it happen.

I'm ten years older than Vincenzo Corleone. He had just turned 23 years old when he took over the Corleone family as the patriarch. A hint of teenage childishness could still be seen etched onto his youthful features. I was the one who held his hand and helped him calm the turbulence of his family affairs. I blocked three assassination attempts that were made on him. I used five years of my life to help him grow from a useless scion into the fearsome don who wielded the utmost authority in Nowork's underworld. Once, Vincenzo had embraced me in the church. He rested his forehead against my palm as he swore, "Age, identity, or the world's viewpoint of us will never stop us from being together, Freya. I will protect you with my life." But after that, he told his older brother, Marco Corleone, "Freya is too old. She's already 38 years old; I can practically smell the rot of age rolling off her. Even the crinkles in her smile disgust me to no end." Some time later, Vincenzo found himself a mistress who bore some resemblance to me. She was young and vibrant—like a white rose who had never experienced the ugly side of society. While Vincenzo gave me the title of the Donna of the Corleone family, he reserved his gentle, doting, and even passionate side for the mistress named Lina Marino. Vincenzo thinks he can pull everything off flawlessly. What he forgets is that the reason why I can establish my reputation in the underworld isn't because of his protection. I've been relying on my ruthlessness and my sharp sixth sense this whole time. When I slam the signed divorce agreement onto the spot before Vincenzo, I say with a smile, "You've fought by my side for so many years, so you should know very well that I can afford to go for high-stakes risks and withdraw my chips whenever needed. "But once I lose, someone here has to pay the price!"