Short Mafia Stories & Novels

I've been married to Sylvia Fuller, a mafia donna, for ten years. I'm there with her in every life-and-death situation. My hands, which are meant for playing the piano, have developed calluses from using guns. They are also stained with blood from the enemies. But when Sylvia turns 28, she falls head over heels in love with Wilson Hink, the young man she's brought back from the slums. Sylvia has hidden him very well… right until the moment I bump into him accompanying her to a prenatal check-up. Mad with jealousy, I demand Sylvia for answers, but she just passes me a divorce agreement in a lackadaisical manner. "Wilson is a man of religion. He can't sire a child without getting married, so I have to give him a legitimate status. Sign this agreement, and I'll give you 40% of my shares." I refuse to give my position away, so Sylvia keeps forcing my hand. In the end, she even kidnaps my younger brother, who's paralyzed from waist down, and drags him to the spot beneath a hydraulic press. "Sebastian Chance, either you sign the agreement, or watch him get crushed. Your choice." I kneel on the ground and beg Sylvia to stop. But soon, I hear the hydraulic press being activated. It doesn't take long before I'm completely covered in my brother's flesh and blood. I end up collapsing onto the gore-splattered ground. When I open my eyes again, I realize I've gone back in time—back to the time when Wilson has accompanied Sylvia to the prenatal check-up. This time, I don't say anything. Instead, I contact a rehabilitation center located overseas before filing for a divorce and leaving Sylvia behind. But once I'm gone for real, Sylvia actually goes crazy.

For love, I followed Harrison, the underboss of the Moretti family, from halfway across the world. But for five whole years, my permanent residency application had gone nowhere. Several key steps required Harrison's personal involvement, but he always claimed he was too swamped with family business to find the time. Yet Cathy, my so-called stepsister, who was living on our estate, got her residency in just two short weeks. I only found out through the servants' gossip that Harrison had personally stepped in, pressuring a top immigration lawyer to rush it through. With my hopes completely shattered, I told him I wanted to go home. Harrison, a man who was always so proud, panicked. He pulled me into a fierce embrace, kissing my hair. "Aurora, you're my wife. Getting your permanent residency is just a matter of time." "But Cathy is different. She has no family to protect her. Without legal status, she could be deported at any moment." "Just do it for me. Stay. Okay?" Once again, I gave in to his tender words. Until today. I went to the immigration office alone to check on my file. The clerk stared at the screen, her face a mask of confusion. "Ma'am, the system clearly states that Mr. Harrison Moretti's legal spouse is... a Ms. Cathy." "Did you perhaps fill out your form incorrectly?" My world froze. So, the five years of waiting had all been a lie. I wasn't just denied permanent residency; my very marriage was a fraud. I didn't go back to the estate. I went straight to the airport and flew home. Before I boarded, the last message from him read: "Stop throwing a tantrum. Come home." But Harrison, we didn't have a home anymore.

After my adopted sister, Bella, borrowed my phone, she forgot to log out of our family's secure channel. I was about to log her out when an encrypted group chat message popped up at the top of the screen. "To celebrate Enzo, the Moretti heir, handling his first piece of business for the family, we're having dinner at the private club tonight." I tapped on it without a second thought. The member list in the channel was painfully clear, showing only four avatars: my father, my mother, my brother, and Bella. My brother, Enzo, replied a moment later, "Just the four of us. Don't call Aurora." "If she comes, she'll just find another excuse to bully Bella." I stared at the words, frozen. It dawned on me then. In this family, I had been the outsider all along.

On the night before our engagement party, my fiancé's childhood sweetheart sped through the venue grounds in a luxury car while heartbroken, hit an elderly man, and fled the scene. Ethan immediately postponed the party and took the panicked Mia overseas to help her relax. Before leaving, he transferred five hundred thousand dollars to me. "Five hundred thousand should be enough to buy your father's life. As long as you don't cause trouble for Mia, we'll continue with the celebration after I return." Confused, I looked at my father beside me. The renowned don of the McKenna family was sitting there perfectly unharmed, frowning in dissatisfaction over Ethan's decision to cancel the party without permission. Just then, I received a message from Mia with a video attached. [Ethan found out the person I hit was your father and still chose to protect me and pay for your father's life.] [A nouveau riche's daughter thinks she can marry into the Alvarez family? Take a good look at your father's condition. This is what happens when people like you dare to dream.] I opened the video and widened my eyes in shock. With a malicious smile, Mia slammed on the accelerator, drove over the old man's legs, and sped away. The poor elderly man lying in a pool of blood and groaning in pain was Ethan's father.

"Where's Donna? Is she asleep?" "My Don... Donna Seraphina has been gone for three days. She told me to give you this." Seraphina Reed. The day I found out I was pregnant, my Mafia husband, Lorenzo, declared in front of the city's elite that our marriage was nothing but my "calculated scheme." I waited anxiously and helplessly for his explanation, but only received a taunting message from his secretary, Victoria. "Your husband isn't coming home tonight. Do you know why?" "Because he's with me, handling some… private business." At that moment, loving him so deeply I would have given him everything, I felt like the world's biggest joke. It turned out everyone thought I married him for money. They bet I would break, they bet I would cry, I would kneel and beg for a scrap of his love. But I didn't. I simply went back to the room, took off my wedding ring, and sealed it in an envelope along with my pregnancy report. Then, I left the cage that had trapped me for ten years. Later, he went crazy looking for me. He turned over every port, locked down every airport, and mobilized the entire family's power. He offered up everything he had, just to beg for my love.

The fearsome Romano family has made an announcement. Whoever among me and my sister, Vivienne Everhart, can give birth to the first grandson of the Romano bloodline shall inherit the Romanos' wealth that's worth tens of billions of dollars. Also, said grandson will be the next Don of the Romano family. In my previous life, Vivienne had married Dominic Romano, a healthy and strong young man of the Romano family. My parents were the one who had arranged for this marriage to happen. I, on the other hand, got married to Julian Romano, a gloomy man who was confined to his wheelchair due to his crippled legs. In less than a year after our marriage, Julian had regained his ability to walk once again. At the same time, I got pregnant with the first grandson of the Romano family. As such, Vivienne got abused by Dominic to the point that she completely lost her marbles. That was how she became the laughingstock of the rich socialites of the upper crust. On the day I was about to go into labor, Vivienne stabbed my belly with a blade. Then, she grabbed me before jumping off a tall building with me in her arms. When I open my eyes again, I see Vivienne snatching away the bouquet made of blue roses that's given to me by Julian. "I want to marry Julian!" "Vivienne, how could you snatch Isabella's bouquet away?" As soon as Vivienne receives the fancy blue rose bouquet, she freezes in place when she hears our father scolding her. After Dad grabs the bouquet from Vivienne's hands, he passes it to me before saying, "Isabella, you have a healthy body. Julian might be handicapped, but at least he's pretty talented when it comes to running his business." Then, he pats Vivienne on the head lovingly. "Vivienne, you're in poor health. Marrying Dominic is your best option." As I stare at the blue rose bouquet in my hands as well as the wedding gown I'm currently wearing, I dig my nails into my palm forcefully. Finally, I realize that I've gotten reborn.

I was the princess of the Moretti family, but in my past life, I ended up with my hands and feet bound, tossed to the bottom of a river. All because my parents, my brothers, and even my fiancé were obsessed with Fiona—the sweet-faced, manipulative bitch they’d adopted. My oldest brother, Lorenzo, would say, “Stay away from Fiona. She’s not like you—savage and vicious.” My second brother, Marco, would say, “This couture gown is for Fiona. It would be a waste on you.” And my fiancé, Albert Falcone, told me, “I love Fiona’s soul. This engagement with you? It’s just business.” But I was reborn. On the night of my engagement party with Albert. And this time, I got a “Slap-Back System.” 【The moment the host effectively strikes back against her bullies, achieving a true slap-down, she will be rewarded with billions in wealth and supreme power.】 I laughed. And with one shove, I sent the towering champagne pyramid crashing to the floor. “This whole ‘mafia princess’ gig? I’m done with it.”

I spent eight years raising Dante's children. Three of them, and every single one belonged to him and his arranged wife Bianca. Not one was mine. I fought against it. I really did. But the Costello family needed heirs, and my background was too ordinary. The family would never accept me. Dante always had something to say about it. "Nora, once Bianca has the baby, I'll take you to the States. You can go to art school, open your own gallery. It's what your mother always wanted, isn't it?" Then Bianca had a son, and suddenly the family needed a daughter too, someone they could marry off to another faction. When the daughter came, the elders stepped in and said the mob was a bloody business and you needed enough children to guarantee the line would continue. Eight years. I went from Dante's lover to something worse than a servant. Then I got pregnant. I was so happy I could barely breathe when I told him. I thought this baby would finally be our way out. But there was no smile on his face. Just a look that was pained and apologetic, like he already knew what he was going to say. "Nora, you don't have a place in this family. Neither does your child. He'd disrupt the line of succession. We can't let him be born." I pressed my hand to my stomach, just barely starting to show. Hot tears hit the floor. Fine. If we couldn't leave together, I would leave alone.

"I agree to the divorce," I said as I dialed my mother-in-law's number. "Matteo Bellandi will never agree to divorce me, so you need to arrange a new identity for me. I need to disappear completely. He must never find me." Despite six years of marriage, I never conceived a child. In the Mafia world, how many men remarried for the sake of an heir? Yet Matteo always stood firmly at my side. To have a child, we tried everything—ninety-nine rounds of IVF that resulted in ninety-eight failures. The final pregnancy ended in fetal demise. Matteo held me and said, "Whether we have a child or not, I will always love you." Everyone said he was deeply devoted and that I was fortunate. Even I believed it. I believed it was my body that was defective. I believed I was the one holding him back. Until that day, when I went to the hospital for a follow-up exam. I saw him with my own eyes, pushing a mobile hospital bed into a VIP suite. On the bed lay a young woman named Sienna Vale, who had just given birth, holding a pair of twins—a boy and a girl. The congratulations inside the room were sharp and piercing. They praised his good fortune and Sienna's superior genes. They said the children were born to inherit the Bellandi empire. They mocked my education and my background and said I could not produce a "high-quality" heir. "Who do you think you are, daring to speak about her? My wife is not someone you get to judge. If I hear one more word of disrespect toward my Donna, you'd better weigh the consequences yourself," Matteo rebuked them coldly, preserving my dignity as Donna. In that moment, I finally understood that the marriage I had been so proud of was nothing more than a joke in everyone else's eyes. If that was the case, I would end this love story everyone envied with my own hands.

Despite being married to me, Don Massimo Cortese has forgotten my birthday once again. On my 25th birthday, he brings his most capable Underboss, Catia Sangalli, home with him. "Catia is pregnant." His tone remains even, as though this is nothing more than routine business. "She's pregnant with my child." My eyes become as wide as dinner plates. I can only stare at Massimo in disbelief. There isn't a trace of guilt on his expression. If anything, there's a hint of calculation in his eyes. "My family needs an heir, which you can't produce at all." That's when I finally give up on Massimo. After wiping my tears away, I pass him a divorce agreement that I've prepared in advance. Massimo just smiles lightly as he signs the agreement without hesitation. His friends are confused, to say the least. "Aren't you going to ask the Donna to stay, Don Cortese? Everyone in Napango knows very well just how much you love her. Are you seriously going to let her go like this?" Massimo says firmly, "Don't worry. She will never be able to leave my side. Angelica doesn't even have any family in this world. Who else can she seek out but me? "She's far too temperamental right now, so she needs to be taught a lesson. Once she finally learns her place, she will come back to me." I pretend to not hear the conversation as I pack my luggage quietly. What Massimo doesn't know is that I've taken the initiative to give up on my inheritance rights to the Rocchi Famiglia's assets five years ago because of the family rule that states, "No Rocchi is allowed to form marital ties with other forces." This time, I'm going to cut all ties with Massimo and return to the Rocchi manor as their heiress alongside my unborn child.

On the day of the crash, I called Enzo Vitale ninety-nine times on the emergency channel. On the hundredth call, his Consigliere finally picked up. "Don Enzo has already used family resources to escort Miss Moretti to a private hospital," he said. "Her condition…isn’t good. Don asked me to tell you not to disturb him again." But that was not the worst part. When I woke up, my baby was gone. The doctor said the accident was too severe and they could not save the child. Then I heard the truth. “Chiara is carrying my child,” Enzo said. “Her last wish is to have a child before she goes. I gave her that. But this must stay between us. Alessia cannot know.” “We had no choice,” my mother Rosalina said, her voice flat. “Chiara doesn't have long. We want her last days to be peaceful.” “Alessia will understand,” my father Alberto said. “She's always been reasonable. She'll see this is about giving a dying woman her final wish.” They were comforting a dying woman. My child was dead. But all they cared about was Chiara's baby. I stumbled away. Chiara stood at the end of the hallway and smiled at me. “I am not dying,” she whispered. “I just want everything you have.” I picked up my phone and dialed a number. “Professor Luciano,” I said quietly. “I've changed my mind. I am ready to join your closed medical research program.” The woman who once begged for love had died with her child.

"Give me a baby, sweetheart." My husband, Don Nico, whispered, kissing me as he drove deep inside, making us come together. I rested in his arms, feeling his heart hammer against his ribs. He was crazy for me. A month later, on our anniversary, I gave him his wish. A positive pregnancy test. I drove to his private casino, ready to give him the surprise of his life. But I stopped outside the VIP room. The door was cracked open. I heard him bragging to his men. "The wedding's in a week. Scarlett still has no idea she's been sleeping with both of us." He gestured to the man beside him. A mirror image. His twin brother, Marco. "Last time, she was all over him, begging him for a baby." A low rumble of laughter went through the room. My blood ran cold. Someone piped up, nervous. "But Boss, what if she finds out?" Nico just scoffed. The sound was pure ice, pure control. "What's she gonna do? She has nothing without me. I gave all her best work to Bianca. She's the art world's new star. Scarlett's career is dead. I killed it. Her only choice is to be a good little Donna and beg for my scraps." That casual cruelty… it shattered my heart. He destroyed me for another woman. Played me for a fool. Any love I had for him died in that instant. I pulled out my phone. I found the message I'd been ignoring. The curator offer from that top European foundation. I typed my reply: "Yes." He thought I was his to break? He was wrong. In seven days, I would be gone. Vanished from his world for good.

The day I found out I was pregnant with twins, Vincent Castellano celebrated like a man who had been handed heaven. Fireworks over Brooklyn. Vows whispered against my stomach. Promises that his empire, his loyalty, and his life were mine. That same day, I found out the hospital built in my name had been sheltering his affair. While I was throwing up and fighting to keep our babies safe, he was holding another woman in the next room. So I made my choice. I would keep the twins. But Vincent Castellano would lose all three of us.

The day I buried my mother, my husband, Luca, the Don Ricci, conveniently disappeared. Later, my best friend, Annie, sent me a video. In it, she stood beside Luca in a hospital room while a doctor confirmed her pregnancy. Luca looked… happy. Radiant, even. The baby was theirs. Then another message came. Annie’s voice, “Sis, looks like you failed—just like your mother did against mine.” I had always known my father cheated on my mother and had a child out there somewhere. I just never imagined… it was Annie. That night, Luca came home—with Annie by his side. I said only four words. “I want a divorce.” Luca refused, saying I wouldn’t survive without him—but it was just gaslighting. In truth, he couldn’t afford to lose me or my family’s power. So I called one man Luca hated most in this world—his uncle, Stefan Ricci. The man who once stood equal to Luca in the race for power… If Luca believed he could humiliate me and still keep me tethered to him—his perfect little guarantee to the Don’s seat.… Then I could just as easily make another man take his place.

When I was twelve, I bought a half‑starved boy from a Brooklyn fight pit. His ribs were broken, blood on his teeth, but he still crawled to my feet. “Choose me,” he said. “Give me a place, and I’ll be useful.” So I took him home. Twelve years later, Matteo Greco had become my family’s most feared enforcer. He bled for me, killed for me, carved my initial over his heart—and called it loyalty. Then one day a beautiful young woman showed up at my door. “You were never the one he loved,” she said with a smirk. “You’re just the nightmare he’s been trying to escape.” She placed a hand on her swollen belly and taunted me, “Matteo’s going to run away with me.” I let out a cold laugh. I had my men drag her downstairs, then sent a message to Matteo: “Get back here. Now.”

I ran into my ex-boyfriend at a friend's birthday party. He was now the Godfather of the Barzan family. He looked handsome and polished, and he'd arrived with his gorgeous fiancée on his arm. She smiled at me and said, "If you hadn't broken up with him back then, you'd be the lady of the Barzan house—the Godfather's wife." Across the table, his arm around her, Nico wore a cold expression. "Why bring up the past? We ended things ages ago. You're my fiancée, the future matriarch of the family." Under the crowd's watchful stares, I quietly covered the scar on my wrist and forced a tight smile. "Right… it's been such a long time."

In the seventh year of my marriage, I accidentally discover a document in the study. Upon flipping it open, I realize that it's a will left behind by my husband, Luca Bernadi. The will clearly states that if Luca were to die someday in the future, all of his assets and his mafia kingdom would be inherited by a little boy named Nico Bernadi. The one next in line for the inheritance is my half-sister, Angela Fasano. I, his legally-wedded wife, am the last one in line. At first, I refuse to believe the legitimacy of this will. After taking it to the notary's office, I'm informed that the will is notarized and in effect. At that moment, I feel as though my blood has turned into ice. I never expect that this marriage I once took pride in had left me with only betrayal. In that case, I no longer need to cling to this marriage.

Married to Don Victor for three years, I thought I could finally forget the pain and betrayal of my ex-husband, Dominic. This cold, ruthless man ruled the East Coast underworld. But he handed me the world on a silver platter, healing my broken pieces. Until late one night. Victor's underboss called, frantic, begging me to rush to Manhattan's top private hospital. Victor and Dominic were in a standoff outside the maternity ward. Guns drawn, surrounded by their elite hitmen. They were inches away from sparking an all-out mob war. And standing between them was my ex-best friend, Chloe. She was visibly pregnant. The Commission's mediator slid a truce across the table. His expression was painfully awkward. "The security tapes are clear. The two Dons nearly blew up the entire floor just to decide who gets to stay in her room tonight." Numbly, I signed the papers as the Donna of the Costello family. Prenatal vitamins bought by Victor already piled high in the room. Meanwhile, his and Dominic's men were still arguing over the schedule—how the two Mafia Dons would split their week to keep Chloe company, three days each. When I walked up to the bed, the two lethal men who were just at each other's throats now stood guarding her on both sides. Victor shielded her belly. The same lips that used to kiss every inch of my body now spit out bone-chilling words: "I forced her. If you have a problem, take it up with me." My ex-husband, Dominic, glared at me viciously. "Keep your mad dog of a husband in check. Tell him to stop harassing my woman!" I slowly shook my head. Watching this farce, silent tears slid down my cheeks. A mobster's love... in the end, it's just a cheap lie. Victor, I don't want you anymore either.

I loved Dante Moretti for seven years. At eighteen, one night at a family gala changed everything. Soon after, I became his fiancee, and not long after that, he was sent to run the Chicago branch for four years. I gave birth alone, raised our son alone, and waited for him in the house that was supposed to be ours. What came back to New York was not a family. He brought Claire and her son with him, and before long, that boy was sitting in Dante's car, taking my son's place in the training program, and showing up in every space that should have belonged to family. Then, on my son's birthday, I saw a video from Chicago. Someone asked, "Dante, when did you feel most at home?" He lifted his glass and said, "One winter night during a blackout. Claire was in the kitchen by candlelight, and Leo grabbed my sleeve and asked me not to leave." I didn't cry. I ended the engagement, erased my son and myself from every Moretti family record, and left New York without looking back.

My father came from Italy to watch my first wedding. He watched Luca Romano let go of my hand ten minutes before the vows, because Celeste called and said she could not breathe. That day, Don Moretti did not scream. “Take the time you need. But when you finally understand he will not choose you at the altar, come home.” I thought he did not understand love. So I stayed in New York. I gave Luca seven weddings. Every time, he came back with flowers, apologies, and a new wedding date. “Elena,” he always said, “this is the last time.” Even his friends had stopped pretending not to laugh. “She won’t leave,” one of them said. “She just wants him to apologize harder.” I would have stayed for real love. I would not stay for a man who only remembered me after choosing someone else. That was when I finally understood. He had mistaken my love for a place he could always return to. On the morning of our eighth wedding, I put my engagement ring into a white velvet box. Just then, my father called. “The helicopter is ready,” he said. At the altar, Luca waited for me with the wedding ring in his hand. This time, I let him wait.