Historias cortas y novelas de Mafia

Everyone in New York knew that Don Lorenzo Capone loved his wife dearly. At the height of our love, he shielded me from a bullet that went straight through his chest. The hospital issued eleven critical condition notices. I cried myself hoarse at the door of the emergency room. "Lorenzo, don't you dare die on me, or I'll instantly find a pretty boy to marry and have children with!" He survived the ordeal, and the first thing he did when he opened his eyes was to marry me. After the marriage, he ruled over New York's largest underground empire with an iron fist, but never allowed any woman to get close to him. On our third wedding anniversary, I went to his private dock to give him a surprise. There, I saw him holding a pair of twins, teaching them how to shoot. The man who could kill without batting an eye was looking at the children with eyes full of affection. The children's mother was Elena Tribbiani, the daughter of an arms dealer who was his equal. "Lorenzo, what if Vivian finds out?" Lorenzo dismissed it casually. "A fragile porcelain doll like her is only fit to be displayed in a glass case. Only a she-wolf like you is worthy of bearing my family's cubs." It turned out, what I thought was true love was merely a carefully-woven lie. I did not confront him. Instead, I sent a text message to an FBI special agent. "Agent Smith, I have a list of the arms deal you’re investigating."

On the night Valen Varesi's dying first love went into labor, his parents stationed armed men outside my suite to make sure I stayed far away from the private maternity floor and the birth of the Varesi family's heir. I never gave them the scene they were expecting. Not when Sabina Orsini was taken into surgery, not when the baby's first cry carried through the corridor, and not when the whole family finally relaxed. His mother sat beside Sabina's bed, clutching her hand with relief. "As long as we're here," she said, "that barren wife of his won't get anywhere near you or the baby." Valen stood at Sabina's side, wiping the sweat from her forehead with a tenderness I had once believed was mine. "Don't worry," he said. "My father has men covering every exit. If Nerina tries anything, she'll be gone before the night is over." Only then did he finally let himself breathe. As far as Valen was concerned, he had done nothing unforgivable. He had granted a dying woman one final wish and secured the bloodline his family had demanded for years. I was the one refusing to be reasonable. He had even decided that if I came later, apologized to Sabina, and stopped fighting him, he might be generous enough to let me raise the boy in name and keep my place as Mrs. Varesi. What never crossed his mind was that I had already made my decision. By the time Valen finally opens the "gift" I left for his heir ceremony, I will already be gone. And the only thing waiting for him inside is a divorce notice, a twin pregnancy report— and the truth that the children carrying his real bloodline will never call him father.

Giovanni, the childhood sweetheart who promised to marry me the moment we were old enough, proposed to my stepsister at my 21st birthday celebration. During my lowest moment, Corleone, the don of Lanford's most powerful mafia family, publicly declared that I was the woman he had secretly loved for years. He promised to protect me for the rest of my life and gave me a wedding beyond my wildest dreams. For five years, he treated me with endless tenderness and devotion. Then one day, when I was about to tell him I was pregnant, I accidentally overheard a conversation between him and his consigliere. "Don, it's been five years. You don't even love your wife, yet for Miss Lilia's sake, you've trapped yourself in this marriage. Are you really going to keep suffering like this?" "Since I can't marry Lilia, it doesn't matter who I marry. As long as I'm here, no one can interfere with her happiness." Only then did I realize that my five-year marriage had been nothing but a lie. Later, I discovered that his safe was filled with Lilia’s letters, hairpins, and photographs. Even the journal he never allowed me to see was filled with her name. [May Lilia rise to the top and see all her dreams come true.] [May things go smoothly for Lilia, and that she shines brilliantly.] [Though I cannot stand by your side, I will do everything in my power to clear every obstacle from your way.] I tore up my pregnancy report, prepared a new identity, and planned a fire. From that day on, we’d never see each other again.

The night before my wedding, I found out I was pregnant. That same night, I found out my fiancé had already chosen another woman to give him his first child. Adrian DeLuca, heir to a mafia empire and the man who once swore I was the only woman he would ever love, came home carrying her perfume on his clothes and told me, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world, that it was only a medical arrangement. His dead friend’s widow needed an heir, and after I had failed to give him one through sixty-six rounds of IVF, he had decided this was the best solution for everyone. I said nothing. I let him go on preparing the wedding. I let him believe I would still walk down the aisle and become Mrs. DeLuca. But while he was planning our ceremony, I was planning my disappearance. On our wedding day, the estate would still open its doors. The guests would still arrive. The ceremony would still begin. But the bride Adrian DeLuca betrayed would die there. By the time he learned the truth, that I had been carrying his child all along, I would already be gone under a new name, taking his heir somewhere he could never reach.

Three nights ago, I was locked inside my own family’s underground wine cellar. When my congenital heart condition hit, I called my husband, Zane Corleone, and begged him to come save me. He didn’t come. Instead, he stayed with another woman all night because she was afraid of the dark—and told me to stop faking it for attention. That was the moment I finally understood. If he cared that much about her, then I would do the one thing neither of them expected. I would make room for her. In three days, I would disappear from his world completely.

In my last life, my brother Leo—the heir to the Moretti crime family—stripped our estate bare of every last soldier, all for a Vegas jaunt. All because his new flame, Scarlett, had a jones for the high-roller tables. The Volkovs—our rivals, the very ones Leo had just pissed off—saw their opening and stormed our gates. My mother, Sofia, took a bullet meant for me. Died protecting me. I blew up Leo’s phone, my pleas turning to screams. He didn't answer. He waltzed back in after the shooting stopped, bringing our men home, but far too late for it to matter. Then, the news from Vegas. Scarlett was gone. A suicide note left behind. In it, she painted me as the monster. The one who’d leaked our weaknesses to the Volkovs. The one who'd orchestrated a fake kidnapping and torture plot, all to drive her to despair and lure Leo home. A perfect, tragic lie. Leo read the letter calmly. Then he burned the letter and told me, "Forget it. It's handled." Father tore into Leo for abandoning his post, for leaving his family to die. And me? I was named the new Consigliere. But after the celebration, Leo cornered me in the wine cellar. His face was a mask of cold fury as he pressed the barrel of his gun to my forehead. "This is for family traitors," he hissed, his voice pure venom. "The throne is my birthright, not some backstabbing bitch's prize!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Right in the middle of the fire and the blood. This time, I shoved my mother behind me, dragging her toward the panic room. And the bastards who were too blind to believe me? They’ll regret it.

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."

In the VIP lounge of an underground casino, Maeve, the Falcone family's princess, had been plied with too much hard liquor. Fueled by alcohol, someone goaded her into revealing the most shameless thing she'd ever done to win over the Don. She swirled her glass, pointed at me dealing cards behind the table, and threw her head back with a laugh. "Seven years ago, when Declan was in a coma after a shootout, I took his private phone. And I deleted the distress message that bitch sent him. Every last trace of it. Then I replied in his name: You're a burden. Go die." "You'll never guess what happened next. That idiot stood outside the safe house all night in a downpour, like a stray dog. I almost died laughing…" The room erupted in crude laughter. Only the man enthroned at the head of the table remained silent. The crystal whiskey glass in his hand shattered with a sharp crack. Blood mixed with the amber liquor, trickling over the veins on the back of his hand before dripping onto the carpet. His murderous, bloodshot eyes were locked on me. I calmly dealt the last hole card in front of him and offered a clean, white silk handkerchief. "Don Declan, you should wipe your hand. Blood on the felt is bad luck." After all, some stains never wash out.

I was setting up a weekend shopping list on the tablet my husband had just replaced for our home system. A notification popped up. He had forgotten to log out of a shared, encrypted family calendar— one I didn’t recognize. There was only one unfamiliar profile photo. I tapped it. A list titled “My Little Princess – Personal Notes” filled the screen. My Little Princess doesn’t drink alcohol—only mineral water or herbal tea. No late nights. She needs absolute quiet to sleep. She gets anxious easily—keep fresh white lilies in the house and her favorite vanilla chocolates on hand. I scrolled slowly, my expression unreadable. The final entry was bolded. Highlighted. “Next Wednesday: take my Little Princess to choose her wedding crown.” I closed the screen. Then I picked up my phone and called my husband. “Love,” I said gently. “Does your Little Princess prefer a classic European bridal crown… or something more traditional? I thought I could help you choose.”

My husband, Don Lorenzo, ran New York's underworld. And he's the one who put me in prison. All because his childhood flame, Cassandra Viti—the Viti family princess—killed my father. I was the first one on the scene. The Feds caught me standing over the body. He faked the evidence. Made sure I took the fall. I spent three years in hell. His apology? A single sentence and an unlimited black card. "I owe Cassandra three wishes. Once you're out, once I've paid my debt to her, you'll be my Donna again."

When I bring up divorce in front of my husband, Vito Corti, he happens to be toying with a lace thigh strap that's gifted to him by a rising adult film star. Vito, the head of the Corti family as well as the youngest Don in Emaly, orders his Soldato to pick up his new lover tonight. Then, he shoots a languid glance at the divorce agreement on the table. "How big of a tantrum are you throwing this time, my dear Donna?" I reply calmly, "I didn't touch the bank card tied to the private account. I also don't want the estate in Emaly as well as the bulletproof convoy. I have already entrusted the asset management authority to your Consigliere." Vito is stunned for a moment, but he still thinks I'm still throwing a tantrum. "You don't want those assets? Then what do you want? My devotion? Gia, I already told you in the past that you're the woman with the highest position in the family. But it's too boring for a Don to own just one woman." He tries to reach out to feel my cheek, thinking that I'll act the same way as before; that I'll forgive him in a roundabout way after lashing out at him. But I just avoid his hand. I no longer want Vito's devotion to me. Now, I just want to leave him.

When the mafia heir, Marco Gallante, barged into the family vault with his mistress, I was standing before the Virgin Mary statue, cross-checking bloodstained ledgers. Fiore Albero cowered behind him, pointing at the ledgers in my hands and shrieking, "Marco, I'm scared..." I did not even bother looking up, just flicked the ash off my cigar. However, Marco kicked the desk over with one swift boot. "Chiara Moltisanti, Fiore can't stand the sight of all this blood and violence. Sign the divorce papers, now!" I stared at the mess scattered across the floor, thinking back to the pregnancy report the family doctor had handed me just ten minutes ago. The Gallante bloodline was dying out in this generation. Ever since the eldest son, Luca Gallante, died in that accident, Marco became the sole heir. The Don, Carmine Gallante, dreamed of nothing more than a legitimate boy of pure blood to carry on the family name and glory. So, I smiled, bright and sharp, with unmistakable mockery. "Perfect. Since you want true love, then the Don's throne will never be yours." Besides, I never wanted Marco, that useless fool. What I wanted was the Gallante empire, a mafia dynasty spanning three continents with 100 years of roots, and the control that left him with nowhere to run and no legs to stand on. This time, I would cut him out completely, keep the bloodline, and sit at the head of the family.

After my sister lost her husband, our family arranged a new marriage for her. This arrangement was meant to solidify the alliance with the Castellanov family. As it turned out, the chosen groom was Nicola. He was the twin brother of my husband, Matteo. On the night we learned the news, both Matteo and I could not sleep at all. Early the next morning, I heard Matteo call Nicola in the study room. “Nicola, I really don’t want to spend my whole life missing my chance with her. Please. Do this one thing for me. Don’t worry. Lina is clueless. She’ll never find out that you’re pretending to be me. “Elena never met you. Even if I pretend to be you for a few days, she won’t notice either. Please, let’s swap places for one week. Just one week. I just don’t want to live with any regrets.” He begged for a long time before Nicola finally agreed to switch identities with him. Matteo was relieved. I was relieved as well. What Matteo never knew was that I, too, had been hiding a secret of my own.

Rocco Falcone, who is the Falcone family's Don and my so-called husband, hangs up on me for what feels like the 99th time. Having been diagnosed with leukemia, I haul my ravaged body into the family lawyer's office. "I'm here to file for a divorce," I said. … When Rocco hears about it, he barges in with my family ten minutes later. The moment he enters, he slaps me. "Did you use the emergency line just to ruin Sofia's big night? Are you out of your mind?" Lily Marone, my mom, snatches the diagnosis right out of my hand and skims through it. She chuckles dismissively. "Did you fake being sick just to get attention? How many lies have you told since you were a kid, Claire?" Sofia Moretti holds Rocco's arm with tears in her eyes. "Forgive me, Claire. I shouldn't have taken the position. Please stop hurting yourself and Rocco." I wipe the blood from my mouth and turn back to the lawyer. "I have no family left. Please hurry with the divorce paperwork. I need it settled before my cremation in three days."

Don Ettore Vitale's lover, Viola Serra, and I are abducted at the same time. When it's time for Ettore to make his choice, he doesn't hesitate to choose Viola despite always doting on me all the time. "Larissa, Viola can't take this. She's too fragile. Once this is over, I'll definitely make it up to you." "If you choose her, I'll hate you forever!" He remains silent for a moment before whisking Viola away in his arms. I just keep laughing till tears spill down my cheeks. Some time later, I nestle into Ettore's arch-nemesis, Vittorio Romano's arms while smiling at the former. But he keeps begging me to return to him like an absolute lunatic.

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.

I once thought I had the most dangerous yet the most perfect love in the whole world. My lover, Dante Costello, is the Underboss of the Costello family. He carries himself with grace and nobility. Everyone fears and respects him, yet he only shows his gentle side to me. I used to think that the man who keeps lurking in the shadows and has once left humiliating marks on me while gazing at me with cold eyes is his brother, Luciano Costello. Luciano is a Capo who lives in the shadows. He's also a madman whose hands are stained with blood. Everything changes when I smell the unique scent of gunpowder and blood that only Luciano has from Dante's custom-fitted suit. Only then do I realize that I have never just belonged to one man all this time. During the day, Dante plays the role of my perfect lover. He showers me with jewelry and deadly romance. At night, Luciano transforms into a devil who satisfies his twisted, possessive urges in the roughest way possible. Both brothers have set up an elaborate trap to lock me up in this gilded cage and admire my struggles from afar. When I find out about the truth, I don't cry or bleed over it. Instead, I'm filled with eerie calmness. The brothers want to watch me break down. Instead of doing that, I'll ruin them. I flutter effortlessly between the brothers, using their only weakness against them. Apparently, both of them think that they are the only hunters in this game. This time, it's my turn to weave them a trap.

Carlo La Rosa is the Don of the La Rosa family. As for me, I'm just a plaything who's been delivered to his bed in order to clear off my family's debts. For the next three years, Carlo vents his carnal urges on me anyhow he wants. He doesn't do any foreplay. In fact, he doesn't even turn off the lights. Instead, he forces me to look at myself in the mirror. He wants to show me how he eventually devours me. "Take a good look at who's screwing you right now, Lydia!" Carlo is very rough with me in bed, as though he wants to merge with me. I beg him to be gentler with me, but all I get in return are harder thrusts. Those thrusts continue until I faint from the intensity. When I wake up, I see a black card and a morning-after pill on the nightstand. Even though I quickly take the pill, I still end up getting pregnant. I'm about to tell Carlo the news when I see the news on the TV. Apparently, he gets stabbed three times in a row just to protect his first love, Serena Sergio. It turns out that I'm just a plaything for him to vent his urges on. I'm not even considered a replacement. As I caress my belly, I drop my signature on the divorce agreement. Then, I snap the black card in half and leave the pieces on the table.

From my earliest memories, my entire family is cold and distant toward me. When my parents look at my younger sister, Claire Lloyd, their eyes fill with warmth and joy. Yet, when they turn to me, only disgust remains. Claire's life is filled with applause and excessive love, while mine is filled with disdain and suffering. When the explosion erupts at the street corner, I save the stranger beside me. Later, I learn he is Byron Whitmore, a mafia family's Don. He begins pursuing me after I rescue him. Later, I quit my job and move to a new place, but he finds me and proposes in 100 different ways. "Why me?" I ask countless times. "Because it's you," he always answers. The wedding causes a sensation throughout the city. I truly seem to have transformed from an ugly duckling into a swan. That is, until I'm five months pregnant, when Claire needs a transfusion of rare Rh-negative blood after a car accident. The blood bank has a shortage. Because of that, my parents knock me unconscious and send me to the hospital. In my daze, the blood extraction machine hums continuously. As two thousand milliliters of blood leave my body, I see Byron. Tears well up in my eyes. I begin thinking he's here to save me. Instead, I hear him say, "We can't take any more. Sharon and the baby will die." "But Claire has lost too much blood. She'll die, too..." My mother pleads. "No one wants Claire safe more than I do." Byron's voice is thick with pain. "She's my first love. I've never forgotten her. I only married Sharon because her face looks so much like Claire's. "But I can't trade her life for Claire's. Trust me—I'll find another way." So, that's his reason for marrying me. The blood extraction machine continues running, but my heart has already stopped beating. The affection I see in his eyes has never been for me. He's always looking through me at someone else. Everyone in the world loves Claire, and Byron is not the exception that I foolishly believe him to be. That grand wedding is nothing but an ugly duckling's self-deceiving fantasy.

My father was critically ill. I begged my fiancé to keep his post-wedding promise—to withdraw emergency funds from the medical trust fund he had sworn to protect me forever. He refused. The next day, he announced his engagement to Pera. Overnight, I became the laughingstock of everyone. In my deepest despair, my childhood friend Seamus— The heir to a long-established Mafia family— Knelt down in the park and proposed to me in front of everyone. That night, he transferred a large sum of money to my account. I said yes without hesitation and rushed to the hospital to pay for my father's treatment. But he never woke up again. The hospital said he had suffered "unexpected complications." Everything after that—the lawyers, the funeral, all the arrangements—was handled by Seamus. Under the Mafia family's protection, everything went smoothly, and my father was able to be quietly buried. The wedding proceeded as planned. Years later, I overheard a conversation between him and the doctor who treated my father. “Seamus,” the doctor said in a low voice, “You tampered with the organ allocation priority list. You delayed Shirley’s father’s transplant so that Pera’s father could receive an organ transplant in time. You falsified the urgency level. Do you know what will happen if this is exposed?” “The list itself was legal,” Seamus replied after a pause. “I just…adjusted the urgency level.” “You committed medical fraud,” the doctor said sharply. “You ruined his only chance to live. All for Pera. Don’t you regret it?” “I don’t regret it,” Seamus answered without hesitation. “I would do anything for her. Even my life, even the honor of the Mafia family.” “Throughout our marriage, I’ve been trying to make up for everything I owed Shirley. That should be enough.” My vision blurred. Only then did I finally understand— The woman he truly loved was always Pera. "If that's really the case," I thought numbly,"Then I should leave."