Short Mafia Stories & Novels

After six years by Archie Valez’s side, everything changed when his uncle died—and Archie took over the family legacy… and with it, the responsibility of caring for his “young” aunt, Betty Cruz, whose age was practically the same as Archie’s. Still, whatever Betty wanted, Archie delivered. I just never thought it would include a baby. Betty said she wanted a baby with the Valez bloodline. And with the uncle gone, Archie was the only one left to do the job. So he gave her that, too. “Just wait a little longer,” he would say to me, “Sabrina. As soon as she’s pregnant.” What started as once a month turned into once a week… Then it became a nightly routine. Of almost eight months that we lived in New York, Archie went to Betty over a hundred times. And she finally got pregnant. Shortly after, the Valez family announced that Archie would be marrying Betty. “Mommy,” my daughter asked softly, climbing onto the couch beside me. Elly—our Elly. My Elly. The daughter Archie never had time for. “Is someone getting married?” I held her close and kissed her hair. “Yes, sweetheart. Daddy’s finally marrying the love of his life.” Elly blinked at the screen. “But what about us?” I smiled. “We’re going home, baby,” I whispered in her ear. Archie forgot that I was Sabrina Marcellus. And the Marcellus women didn’t beg for rings. And certainly not love after betrayal.

My husband, Damien Falcone, had 99 lovers. And I was the mafia princess men lined up to die for. The day we got together, everyone in our world took bets. They said we wouldn't last three months. But then , everything changed. For me, he wiped his phone clean, built a rose manor, and got down on one knee. Then, on our wedding night, he told me he wanted an open marriage. "Our bodies can play," he said. "But our loyalty? That's just for us." I agreed. Then came his 100th lover, Sophia Ricci. She betrayed our family in an arms deal. Almost got my father killed. But Damien protected her. He even moved her into our home. So, I did what any heartbroken mafia princess would do. I got drunk and woke up in another man's bed. I just didn't know that man was Damien's uncle.

Drugs disappeared during one of our family’s deals—and everyone knew it was my stepsister, Emily’s fault. Now, our rivals demanded someone be sent to them, held captive until the debt was repaid. My fiancé, my family—they all agreed it should be me. “Emily already got hurt in the mission. You are stronger. You can handle it while we figure things out.” I knew this moment was coming. And so I signed my name. In five days, I’d be sent away. And I have decided that no matter what happened—whether I lived or died—I was done with my family and my fiancé. In those last days, I gave everything I owned away. The casino? To my stepsister, who had always eyed it with envy. My checking account? To my father, who never missed a chance to remind me how useless I was. The engagement ring? Back to the man who’d been fake as hell. They didn’t notice anything off. They just smiled, pleased with how thoughtful I’d suddenly become. When they realized I was gone for good—and that their fragile Emily was their undoing—would they still smile like that? Would they still look so content?

The night Enzo was made boss of the Moretti family, I gave him my virginity. He was the heir I'd been promised to since before I could speak. We kissed against the floor-to-ceiling windows, tangled in the humid, twilight heat... His rough, urgent hands hurt me, but I didn't pull away. Even the pain felt sacred, a sacrifice I was willing to make for love. Lost in the heat of the moment, he promised me a pair of the most beautiful crystal shoes, so I could dance the opening waltz with him at his coronation ceremony the next day. The first dance is always reserved for the new boss and his future bride. I cried with joy, believing my years of secret pining and patient waiting would finally culminate in a fairytale ending. But I was wrong. So terribly wrong. The next morning, I dragged my aching body out to get his favorite espresso, only to overhear the guys joking as I returned: "So you finally popped the family cherry, huh? How was Vivian on your first night as boss?" Enzo's voice was lazy, mocking. "Face of an angel, body of a devil. She's a hot little viper in bed." The room erupted in sleazy whistles. "So, you really gonna marry her, young boss?" "Are you kidding me?" Enzo scoffed. "Vivian's just a warm-up. Once I get some practice in, I'll go tame the Falcone ice princess. When I get bored, I can always circle back and put a ring on her." I stood frozen in the doorway, my vision blurring, the coffee cup trembling in my hand. Before the world faded to black, I sent a coded message to the Don: "Uncle Romano, for the promotion in three days, get me a transfer. As far away from Enzo as possible."

Every Thanksgiving, my husband, Salvatore, brings home a showgirl from one of his clubs. He makes me kneel and serve them drinks. A lesson, he calls it, in how to please a man. This was the eighth Thanksgiving, and this time, he brought back a girl poured into a tight leather dress. "She doesn't have any decent jewelry," Salvatore announced. "Give her your heirloom diamond ring. Your grandmother's pearl earrings, too. And take off that silk choker for her." He smirked. "And listen, she's young, doesn't know the rules. You'll have to show her the ropes. Especially how to handle a man in bed." Every member of the Genovese family was watching, waiting for my humiliation. I didn't disappoint. I opened my mouth and asked Salvatore for a divorce. Salvatore let out a sharp, ugly laugh, his eyes full of contempt. "Francesca, you pull this same shit every time," he jeered. "Your act is pathetic. Even more dramatic than your performance in bed." He leaned in. "You really want to divorce me? Fine. I'll give you five million in cash if you actually walk out that door." The living room erupted in laughter. They all said I was playing hard to get, that I didn't know my place. But they didn't know. This was the 88th time I had asked for a divorce, and it was the first time I truly meant it.

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.”

After going bankrupt, I do the unthinkable for my gravely ill younger brother, Ricky Ashford, and climb into the bed of Damien Blackwood, the notorious mafia boss. When his smoldering gaze sweeps over my shirtless body, I stay perfectly still. The reason is that I'm afraid to set off this infamous man in front of me. However, the next instant, his lips are everywhere on my skin, and the night dissolves into a wild, reckless blur. For three years, I endure every torment in his bed. Thoughts of escape and even suicide cross my mind, but the fact that my brother is fighting for his life in the ICU keeps me going. One day, I accidentally overhear him speaking with his childhood friend, Chloe Sterling. "How long do you plan to toy with your enemy's daughter? You're not falling for her, are you?" "Don't be absurd." "And what about her sickly brother?" "He died long ago." The last thread holding me together snaps. Now, there is no reason left to live. As I prepare to end my life by burning charcoal, tears well up in his eyes as he pleads for me not to leave.

Before I turned eighteen, I was the adored principessa of the Moretti family. That all changed on my eighteenth birthday, when my father brought home an orphan girl named Carina. "She needs a home," my father said. "You will look after her, like a sister." From that moment on, nothing was the same. My brother, who once doted on me, became cold and distant. And my fiancé... his love for me seemed to halve overnight. The family praised Carina for being gentle and obedient, calling her a far better daughter than me, their own flesh and blood. After being cast aside for Carina one too many times, I finally broke and grabbed my father's sleeve. "Does blood mean nothing at all?" My father's fury ignited. He sheltered a tear-stricken Carina behind him, and in front of every member of the family, he struck me across the face. "You selfish waste. I wish I'd never had you." "You bring shame to this family," my brother Marco's voice was as cold as a blade. "Get out." And my fiancé, Vincent, looked at me with disappointment,"If only it had been Carina I was engaged to from the start." They thought I would grovel at their feet, like I always did. But I said nothing, just walked to the family safe, removed the official documents, and drew a single line through my name. I took the engagement ring from my finger and placed it on the table. I gave Carina everything they felt I didn't deserve. After all, I only had a few days left to live. But they had no idea then that amid the ruins of the Moretti family, they would one day kneel in the rain and plead for my return.

Five years into my marriage to Dante Moretti, the Don of the Chicago Outfit, the entire underworld knew he loved me more than life itself. He’d had a violin—for me—tattooed right next to his family crest, a symbol of loyalty that could never be erased. Until I got the photo from his mistress. A cocktail waitress, sprawled naked in his arms, her skin marred by the dark bruises of rough sex. She had scrawled her name right next to the violin he’d gotten for me. And my husband had let her. "Dante says only being inside me makes him feel like a man anymore. You can’t even get him hard anymore, can you, sweet Alessia? Maybe it’s time to step aside." I didn't reply. I just made a single call. “I need a new identity. And a plane ticket out.”

I had been with Lars Carter for six years. The head of Midas Capital in Eastwind City, he was a rising star in Riverton's Silver Street—the heart of this nation's financial world. Few knew his true roots. Within him flowed the Vitalus bloodline. Lars descended from an old mafia clan from the city of Virgil in Vitalus, the Viktors. Midas Capital was ours. We built it from the ground up together; Lars would haunt private clubs, ironing out business deals amid drinks. I would stay by his side, doing the accounts, steering the direction of the negotiations, and memorizing every detail of the high-stakes contracts. We did everything together—a tight team. Or so I thought. In my naivete, I was convinced I would rule the city alongside him. The woman behind the man, so to speak. …Until Pearl Ross arrived two months ago. His childhood sweetheart moved from Virgil to Eastwind City. It was then that I knew—she was the one he was waiting for all along. It had always been her. "Lars, I want to get married." Lars' face tightened; hesitation veiled in businesslike concern. "Bianca, you know the company's at a critical stage… We're mid-fundraising. I can't right now." I smiled, calm and composed. "That's fine." He misunderstood. I was getting married—just not to him.

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.

My husband, Martin, was the head of a powerful mafia don. When his widowed sister-in-law, Tricia, got into a car accident, I was forced to give her a blood transfusion. I told them through tears that I was newly pregnant and too weak to donate, but they accused me of faking the medical report. “You were out running just last week. Now you’re claiming you’re pregnant when you’re asked to donate some blood? You just don’t want to help Tricia!” In the end, they drew my blood by force. The strain caused me to miscarry, and while I bled out, my husband stayed by Tricia’s side. After that, I didn’t beg him to return. I dragged my broken body away, left the divorce papers behind, and left him for good. However, when the truth finally came to light, Martin lost his mind with regret.

I was a nobody, but for three years, I was in love with Dante, the heir to the Blackwood family—Chicago's biggest name in the mob. The day I found out I was pregnant, I was overjoyed. I couldn't wait to tell him the good news. But then I heard his twin brother, Marco, ask him, "Bro, when are you gonna tell Rose it was me in her bed every night, pretending I was you?" Dante's voice had a coldness I'd never heard before. "At the wedding, in one week. I'll expose everything, then I'll propose to Isabella." Isabella. The rich girl who used to bully me. So, this was all just payback for his precious Isabella. But what Dante didn't know was that the wedding he'd so carefully planned would be missing its bride.

It's my seventh anniversary with Chase McGregor. I hide in his car's trunk while holding a pregnancy report. In my other hand, I hold a limited-edition watch that I've prepared for him. I want to surprise him and tell him we're about to have a child. To my surprise, I hear something that devastates me. "Chase, you're not really going to marry Daphne, are you? Lucille Gervais wants to marry you. As long as you do that, the North Sea's shipping routes, cargo operations, and drug trade will come under your control." "Help me set up a date with her. I'll break up with Daphne." My breathing hitches. I want to hear Chase object to this or show even the slightest bit of hesitation, but none of it comes. The pregnancy report slips from my fingers. I once thought he would be the father of my children; I thought we would have a happy family together. Now, my dream has been shattered.

On the day we were supposed to get our marriage license, the groom's name was swapped out. The woman my boyfriend was now promised to—the pampered mafia princess nestled in his arms—looked at me with a triumphant smile. "Isn't it perfect?" she sneered. "A fraud of a bride for a fake heir. What a match." I ignored her and turned to the man I loved. This was the man who endured three days of brutal punishment just for the right to marry me, when the Rossi family first acknowledged him as their true heir. Now, he just nodded along with her. "Don't be so dramatic. It's a joke. You're not actually mad, are you? It's just a piece of paper. Once Sienna's had her fun, you two get a divorce, and then it'll be our turn. I promise." I smiled. Then I turned and walked straight to the so-called "fake" heir. "The marriage license is filed, honey," I said. "Let's go plan our real wedding."

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.

A deal between families forced my Fiancé Marco Corvini to marry me. My parents were dead. His obsession was Isabella Falcone, the princess of our rivals. In the end, Marco devoured my family’s empire and threw me to the wolves. He paraded Isabella on his arm like a prize he’d won. Twenty years later, I was on my deathbed. My own son—our son—held the poison. He said I was useless, that his father needed the Falcone family’s power. Then I opened my eyes. I was back. Back on the day of my blood oath. This time, to save my family, I didn’t sign my name on the pact. I signed hers. Isabella Falcone’s. As for me? I took the fortune my parents left me and disappeared. This time, I wouldn’t be the fool bleeding for a man who was never mine.

My husband, Kieran, is the heir to the Thompson family. In the three years of our arranged marriage, he has never once touched me. I told myself he was just cold and guarded, that I could find a way into his heart, little by little. Then one day he came home drunk, pinned me to the bed for the first time, and called out his first love's name. "Camilla, all these years... I've thought of you every second of every day..." That was when I knew. All the passion and love he possessed was already spent on another woman. I pushed him away, burned every photo of us, and went to a high-end club in New York full of handsome male models. Nine months later, I walked into the airport with my newborn baby in my arms. Later, Kieran searched the world for me, his eyes bloodshot. He asked in a trembling voice why I never told him I was pregnant, why I wouldn't let him see our baby. I glanced at him and gave a light, breezy smile. "Who said the baby was yours?"

I'm the De Luca family's dirty little secret, their bastard daughter. And I was stupid enough to fall for Marco Moretti, the heir to our rivals. On our wedding day, my sister, Isabella, drugged me. When I woke up, she was wearing my dress. Standing at the altar. Becoming his wife. Heartbroken, I ran to a bar to drown my sorrow. And that’s where I discovered I was pregnant. Marco held me, crying. He swore he loved me, only me. He promised he’d divorce Isabella as soon as our child was born. But on the day I gave birth, Isabella murdered us both. Me and my baby. That’s when I finally understood. Marco would always choose a true-blooded princess of the Cosa Nostra. And me? The bastard? I was just a loose end. A problem to be erased. Then I opened my eyes. I was back. Back on the day she drugged me. Their wedding day. This time, I'm not marrying the heir. I'm marrying the Don. But first... I'm going to ruin this wedding.

During my wedding, hundreds of photos of me being sullied flutter down from the top of the church, landing before the guests below. My fiancé instantly calls off our engagement and turns to kiss my sister. Devastation washes over me. Just then, my childhood friend Derek Church, the Capo of the Church family, the East Coast's most powerful mafia family, pulls me into his arms. He kicks the church's door open and presses a check worth a million dollars into my father's hands. He pulls me to the priest and has him announce that we are husband and wife. I'm so touched that I agree to marry him. From then on, I become the Capo's wife. Two years later, Derek and I finally conceive through IVF. I want to share the exciting news with him when I overhear his conversation with his subordinate. "Lilyanne is afraid of pain and becoming ugly, so we can use Nicole to give birth to her child. Once she produces an heir for the Morse family, her position will be solidified. Then, the Morse family will become the Church family's MadeMan." "As expected of you, boss. You knew the Morse family is full of politicians who would never accept a sullied woman into the family. The only way for Lilyanne to marry into the family was by having Nicole sullied." My blood runs cold when I hear this, and the pregnancy report in my hand feels unbelievably heavy. The man I thought was my salvation was actually the devil who pulled me into the abyss. I dry my tears and call the Capo of the West Coast's mafia family, Derek's nemesis. "I have a way to help you become the mafia Capo dei capi. Do you want to work with me?"