Familial Bond Short Stories & Homewrecker Countdown Novels

My husband, Severo Falcone, is the Don who rules Sicara's criminal underworld. His days are filled with high-stakes negotiations and bloody turf wars. So, over the years, I've grown accustomed to his absence from our lives. On our wedding anniversary, he was negotiating by the docks. When our daughter, Lucia Falcone, attended her first family gathering, he was called away to deal with a territorial dispute. Even on Lucia's fifth birthday, all he offers is a promise over the phone. "Something's come up tonight. I'll make it up to her when I'm done." I think nothing of it. Then, half an hour later, Ylenia Bianchi sends me a photo. At a private clinic, Severo is sitting by her bed, personally tending to her wounds. The message attached to her photo is just as brazen. "Whenever I need him, he will always show up." In that moment, everything falls into place. I've always believed the family business was keeping him away from us. Turns out, he's been spending that time with her all along. He isn't too busy. He simply prioritizes Ylenia over his own wife and daughter every single time. Holding back tears, I turn to Lucia after she blows out her birthday candles. "What did you wish for, Lucia?" Lucia flashes me a sweet, innocent smile. "I wish for the two of us to stay together forever! I want you to be happy every day, Mamma. I hope you can go wherever you want and do whatever you want!" I smile and kiss her forehead. "I'll make sure your wish comes true." That very night, I book two plane tickets to leave Sicara in seven days.

After his older brother died, my husband, Theodore Ricci, brought his brother's widow, Brynn, and her daughter, Amy, into the Ricci family home. He kept them close and saw to their every need. The tenth time Theodore left our daughter, Lucia Ricci, and me for Brynn and Amy, I started teaching Lucia not to depend on him. I told her to call him Don Ricci. We were on our way to the amusement park when Brynn called to say Amy had had a nightmare, and Theodore left us. I pulled our daughter into my arms, her eyes red from crying, and did my best to comfort her. We got caught in the crossfire between rival families. Theodore ignored our daughter's cries for help and ran to protect Amy. Dragging my injured leg, I carried Lucia on my back all the way to the hospital. "It's okay," I told her. "Even if Don Ricci isn't here, Mommy will always protect you." When Theodore realized our daughter was pulling away from him, he tried to make it up to her. He went all out planning her birthday party and promised that at the celebration, he'd announce she would one day be the Ricci family's heir. But just as the party was about to start, Brynn called again. "Theodore, some kid pushed Amy down, and she's crying for you!" Theodore looked at me, torn. Before I could speak, our daughter waved at him. "It's okay, Don Ricci. Go do what you need to do. I have Mommy with me." That was when I understood. Our daughter no longer needed him either. He was a father in name only.

After I discovered that my Mafia husband, Don Dante Amato, still couldn't let go of his first love, Bianca, and the son she had with another man, I taught our son to call him "Don Amato." When our son came down with a fever, Bianca called my husband away in the middle of the night. I stroked his burning forehead and taught him to say, "Goodbye, Don Amato." Dante had promised to present our son to the whole Amato Family at a family dinner — to formally announce him as the future heir. Yet on the night of the dinner, Bianca called, crying that her own son had no father by his side. Dante left without a second thought. I didn't argue. I just had our son stand in front of the entire Family and explain, "Don Amato has someone more important to take care of." It wasn't until Dante finally realized how disappointed we were in him that he suggested we take a family portrait together. Outside the photo studio, Bianca called again, crying for Dante's help. "Dante, the kids at daycare are making fun of Gabe for not having a dad. Can you come pick him up and pretend to be his father?" Dante looked conflicted. He turned to our son, as if about to explain everything. But this time, our son didn't need my reminder. He waved Dante off. "It's okay, Don Amato. Go take care of the other child. Mom and I will manage the family photo just fine."

On my 24th birthday, an app suddenly appears on all the other digital devices in my family except my phone. The one inside that app is another version of me, another Cordelia Winchester. But she's so much better at everything than I am. Mom's bakery has been in the red for three years. "Cordelia" casually tweaks one recipe, and the cakes sell out that same day. Dad has failed to earn his promotion three times. "Cordelia" revises his presentation, and the very next day, his boss grants his promotion. My fiance, Chase Jensen's company is about to run out of cash. "Cordelia" spends ten minutes reworking his pitch deck, and the investors immediately put in another 20 million dollars. From then on, Mom starts asking her how to develop every new dessert. Dad prints out screenshots of everything she says. Even when Chase chooses an engagement ring, he asks her opinion first. On my 25th birthday, before we even cut the cake, Mom suddenly stares at the app and asks, "Does she really have to stay inside the phone?" Dad lowers his voice. "Is there any way to bring her here for real?" Chase taps open customer support. [Apply for a parallel-life exchange?] Customer support replies, [After the exchange, the Cordelia from your world will be sent to the other world. Confirm exchange?] They barely hesitate. I watch as they hit "confirm", my nails digging into my palms and drawing blood. I force a strained smile. "Since you guys adore her so much, I hope you don't regret this." The next second, a red line of notification appears on the screen. [Exchange sequence initiated. Countdown: 7 days.]

My husband was the Don of the DeLuca Family. As his Donna, I had spent years tolerating his indulgence of his stepsister. That was, until My five-year-old son and my husband's beloved stepsister were strapped to ticking time bombs. My terrified little boy screamed for me. As the DeLuca Family's lead bomb disposal expert, I knew I could save him. But my husband Matteo, the Don who ruled a mafia empire, pressed a cold gun barrel between my eyes. "Disarm Lilia's bomb first, or I'll shoot our son myself." He gave the order without a flicker of emotion, all to protect the stepsister who had perfected the helpless-innocent act. I could only watch as Noah vanished in a ball of fire. But Matteo forgot something. I wasn't merely his wife. I was the intelligence and explosives expert who kept his entire weapons empire alive. When I ripped his precious Family out by the roots and returned on the arm of his greatest enemy, the untouchable Don finally broke. He dropped to his knees and begged me to come back.