Independence Obsessive Short Stories & Novels

In the Ferro family, every daughter received a black onyx ring before getting married. The stone was jet-black, with the Ferro family's signature F engraved in the center. My father said it wasn't jewelry. It was a Ferro family vow. As long as you wore it, the whole Ferro family would have your back, wherever marriage took you. My twin sister, Lucia Ferro, and I were getting married on the same day. But in the days leading up to the wedding, my father brought out only one velvet ring box. Lucia held out her hand in delight as our relatives raised their glasses. I stared at my bare ring finger, then turned to my mother. "Where's mine?" My mother, Margaret Ferro, avoided my eyes and pretended to study the oil painting on the wall. My brother, Victor Ferro, kept cutting his steak and didn't even look up. "Lucia's marrying into the Cassano family. She needs to walk in with some real weight behind her. We melted your ring down and added the gold to her band." My father, Robert Ferro, sipped his red wine, his tone perfectly flat. "The Cassano family has strict rules. She needs them to know the Ferro family is behind her all the way. Your fiancé, Aiden Brooks, is just an ordinary doctor who has nothing to do with the family business. You'll never need a ring like that." I stared at the harsh gleam of gold around Lucia's finger. I remembered the year I turned 18, when my father let me touch his ring for the first time. He'd looked at me and sworn that as long as my last name was Ferro, I'd always have someone in my corner. Only now did I understand that he hadn't been lying. I simply wasn't the Ferro he meant to protect.

My name is Isabella Wright. In my fifth year of marriage to the Don of a powerful mafia family, I find out that the protection charm he gave me causes me headaches whenever I bring it with me. I take out the sachet I find in the charm and bring it to Cursley Hospital. The doctor inspects the sachet and tells me that it contains a type of slow-acting poison that doesn't just cause harm to the victim's body but also renders them infertile after a while. I cry and exclaim, "But that's impossible! My husband gave this to me! His name is Vincenzo Cursley. He's also the person who owns this hospital!" The doctor looks at me in confusion. "Miss, I think you need to visit the psychiatrist. I know Mr. Cursley and his wife. They're very close and intimate with each other. Also, Mrs. Cursley just gave birth to a baby boy not too long ago. They're both now in the VIP ward, looking at their baby." Then, the doctor shows me a photo on his phone. Vincenzo was wearing his usual black suit with the Cursley family emblem embroidered on it. He was holding a baby in his arms, and as for the woman standing next to him… I know her. Her name is Claudia Henderson. And Vincenzo has always referred to her as his adoptive sister.

My husband, Vincent Moretti, had a nightmare. In the dream, he'd had a one-night stand at a hotel with a young woman who had a tragic past and no family. When I found out he'd cheated, I tricked him into signing divorce papers and faked my death to escape. Then I vanished from his life for good. After that dream, the Don whose word had once been law in New York became a different man. Every time he went out, he sent me three location updates. Even a warehouse inspection meant getting on a video call with me to prove there were no women around. I laughed and told him he was overreacting. Then, at our third-anniversary dinner, I went into shock after eating the dessert a server had brought me. When I opened my eyes, Lia Romano, the nun Vincent had once rescued, was standing beside my hospital bed. "I'm sorry, Eve. I didn't mean to..." Everyone there thought she was finished. A maid had once left a jar of hazelnut spread on the dining table. The next day, he'd had her thrown into the sea to feed the sharks. This time, he only frowned. "Eve, she didn't mean any harm." "I almost died from that allergy! Vincent! Get her out of my sight!" He was quiet for a long time. Finally, he nodded. That night, I got a text from an unknown number. "Tonight. The Queen's Hotel." "Sweetheart, will you join me for the fireworks? Let me make it up to you." My friends teased me, saying he spoiled me like a princess. I forgot all about that ridiculous dream. Until I opened the hotel room door and saw something I couldn't believe. Lia, who was supposed to have been driven out of New York, was kissing my husband. And he was kissing her back.

I came from a human noble family that had long since fallen on hard times. Five years ago, I found a vampire in the forest, badly wounded by hunters and with no memory of who he was. Cassian and I fell in love. He said he would love me the same way for the rest of his life. Then hunters attacked again, and he took another bullet protecting me. When he woke in the hospital, every one of Cassian's memories had come back. He was the heir of the vampire prince, and he had a fiancee waiting for him. Overnight, the husband who had sworn to protect me forever began looking at me with distaste. I stood outside his hospital room and heard him say it. "Marrying that human was an accident. "I'll divorce her. The betrothal stands." He said that without the accident five years ago, I would never have been good enough for him. I had tried so hard to carry his child, and one miscarriage after another had wrecked my health. With his memory back, he had no tenderness left for me. He only said he would pay me off. I kept watch outside his room and begged him to think it over, and he would not even look at me. Then, at their engagement party, I watched with my own eyes as Cassian kissed someone else, tenderly, as though he could not get enough of her. When he passed me, his eyes held nothing but indifference. That was the moment I finally let go. Later I married someone else. And Cassian stood outside the chapel with red eyes and a shaking voice, saying he regretted it.

At 11:00 AM, my husband, Silas Vexille, slowly drowned in our indoor thermal pool. At the time, I was having my usual morning tea with the other mafia wives in the estate's back garden. The pool room was directly above the garden, barely a dozen feet away. Originally, if I had gone back to the main house at 11:00 as usual, I would have had plenty of time to save him. But as fate would have it, Victoria Harrison insisted on inviting us over to her nearby home to see her new pink diamond. At 11:20 AM, my daughter April and I pushed open the doors to the pool room. By then, Silas was already gone. At the lavish funeral, I was devastated, fainting several times. The mourners murmured in sympathy. "Don Vexille and his wife always had such a beautiful marriage..." "Yeah, what is she going to do now that the Don is dead?" Silas's mother, Martha—a tough woman who ran a Texas farm alone after her divorce—flew in overnight. Under the watchful eyes of everyone present, she walked straight up to me. Her expression was stone-cold, and she spat out every word: "You are the one who murdered my son."

My wedding to Dante Moretti, the Don of the Chicago Mafia, was only days away. When I got home from my final dress fitting, I found he had made the house over into something painfully romantic. Flowers, candles, stacks of gift boxes... Excited as I was, I could not help wondering why. Today was not a special day. He pulled me into his arms and fed me a mouthful of wine from his own lips, his eyes smiling. "I knew you'd forget the anniversary of the day we got together." My stomach dropped. The anniversary was not today. While he was in the shower, his phone went off. A calendar alert popped up on the screen. "Today is your relationship anniversary." I frowned, opened the calendar, and scrolled back through a few pages. Every date he had marked, I realized, traced back to Camille Ricci, his first love. Her period, her birthday, her lucky days... Twelve months, hundreds of entries, packed so tight there was barely any space left between them. I gripped the phone, and the cold went all the way through me. Dante came out with a towel around his waist, saw me still standing there, and teased me with a grin. "Why are you just standing there? Want me to carry you to bed?" I did not call him on it. I said I needed to go over the wedding schedule, and I left. That night I returned the dress, canceled the wedding, and accepted the offer from the university in New York.

Lucas Morandi and I ran the biggest arms-smuggling network in Sicily. During one deal, we rescued a kidnapped barista named Chloe Bennett. That naive girl fell hopelessly in love with Lucas. She'd wait outside our villa with Italian pastries she'd baked herself. She'd hang around outside the office with coffee she'd made just for him. Lucas always knocked the pastries and coffee into the mud, disgust written all over his face. "Enough with these cheap little gifts. This pathetic domestic fantasy makes me sick." Then, during a bloody raid by a rival family, Chloe's scream gave away our position. I took a sniper's bullet for Lucas and ended up in a deep coma. Lucas hated her for it. He chained her beside my ventilator and grabbed her by the throat, forcing her to beg for forgiveness. Desperate to atone, she grabbed a shard of broken glass and slit her wrist. At the sight, the cold-blooded Don's eyes instantly filled with tears. He gripped the sharp glass with his bare hand, his voice shaking so badly he could barely get the words out. "You think you can escape me by dying? In your dreams!" She collapsed into his arms, sobbing. The man who had sworn he would never marry anyone but me kissed away her tears. I could only lie in that hospital bed and watch helplessly as something inside me died.

At the party the night before our wedding, I came across a couples' challenge post online: [If I weren't an option, who would you most want to marry?] I smiled as I asked my fiance, Julian Hayes. He didn't hesitate. "Vivian." Vivian Bennett was my younger sister. My best friend chimed in. "Honestly, Vivian does understand him best. Every time you two fight, she's the one who stays up talking to Julian until dawn." Vivian reached over and gave him a playful punch on the chest. "Better keep your fiance in line, sis. Can't have him pining after me all the time." The whole table erupted in laughter. My mother, Margaret Bennett, gave an amused tsk. "It's just a joke. Besides, Vivian never complains the way you do. It's only natural that Julian likes her." Julian glanced at me. "It was just a joke. What, you can't take one again?" I didn't respond. I looked down at the confirmation form the wedding planner had just sent over. The gown, the bouquet, the music, the menu. All chosen to Vivian's taste. So this wedding, from start to finish, had only one thing that was mine: my name in the bride's place. If it didn't matter who the bride was, then there was no point in having this wedding at all.

Before the wedding, I received a deduction alert from our joint account. Amount: $1,314. Merchant: Love hotel. Note: One last fling before the wedding. The cardholder was Ethan Greyson. The one who’d used it was his childhood friend, Sophie. I stared at my phone, my fingers ice cold. Sophie was sitting in the bridesmaids’ dressing room touching up her lipstick, wearing Ethan’s suit jacket over her shoulders. She saw the notification and came over with a smile. “Amber, don’t get the wrong idea. “I forgot my wallet, so I used your husband’s joint account to get a room to rest. “He said you’d be sharing finances anyway, so he let me charge it this once.” I looked at Ethan. His first instinct wasn’t to explain, but to turn off my phone. “Sophie just went through a breakup. She’s in a bad place. “Don’t humiliate her over a little money right before the wedding.” Before, she’d charged things to his supplementary card, and he’d say she was short on cash. She’d book couple’s suites using his membership, and he’d say the hotel was safer. She’d send him suggestive selfies at midnight asking how she looked, and he’d say friends joke around like that. And now, she was spending our marital assets to sleep in a room he’d booked. Ethan coaxed me in a low voice, “After the wedding, I’ll transfer the money back to you. “From now on, I won’t let Sophie spend your money. “The apartment, the hotel rooms, me. All yours. Forever.” I looked at him and suddenly found those words laughable. So he did know these things were supposed to have boundaries. I didn’t argue anymore. Because there would be no forever.

A few weeks before the wedding, my brother Adam, my childhood friend Liam Foster, and my best friend Celia Brooks moved into the house I shared with my fiancé, Julian Reed. From that day on, the smart lock seemed to forget who I was. The lock wouldn't recognize my fingerprint, and my code never worked. I kept getting locked out. Every time, Julian said, "There's nothing wrong with the lock. You're doing it wrong." My brother thought I was making a fuss over nothing. "Stop blaming everything on the lock. Everyone else can get in. Why can't you?" Liam tried to calm me down too. "Don't ruin everyone's mood over a stupid lock." Yesterday, I stood doubled over with stomach pain, trying the lock over and over. My fingers were stiff from the cold, and I still couldn't get into my own home. Just then, the others came home. Celia pressed her finger to the scanner, and the lock clicked open. I stood frozen outside the door. Julian shook his head. "We're getting married soon, and you still can't figure out how to unlock a door?" The next day, I had a repairman look at the lock. After checking it, he told me, "Nothing's wrong with the lock. Only four fingerprints are registered, and the code was recently changed." So the lock that was supposed to let me into my own home had been keeping me out all along. I checked the lock's access log, then texted the wedding planner, "The wedding is off."

I married Don Matteo in secret. Every time he fucked his childhood sweetheart, he promised me a real wedding，in front of the Five Families. For five years, Matteo promised me ninety-nine times. And ninety-nine times, he left me at the altar. The first time, Cecilia’s prize-winning show cat died. To comfort her, he postponed the wedding for three months. I stood at the altar alone, eyes red, trying to calm down the family elders. The second time, Cecilia threw a tantrum at a casino and shattered a hundred-million-dollar antique vase. He diverted the private jet meant for their wedding and rushed through the night to clean up her mess. And every time, right before our wedding, his childhood sweetheart would have some kind of emergency. I cried. I screamed. I even held a gun to his head. But Matteo would just pin me against the wall and shut me up with a cold, hard kiss. “She’s just a fuck. You are Mrs. Falcone. Have some goddamn class.” After the ninety-ninth time, I was finally done. I slid the papers across the table. The ink was still wet, the Falcone family seal stamped at the bottom. “Our marriage, our alliance—it’s over.”

“Mom, Dan, I received an offer from an overseas university. I plan to take it.” Lucille Shaw’s voice was soft in the silent living room, like a single drop of water rippling across a still pond. Her mother Victoria exclaimed with joy, "Really? Congratulations! When are you planning to go?" “In Ten days.”

I’m the Chief Counsel for Donatello Vexille, the Godfather of the Vexille family. I’m also his secret wife. At night, he’d pull me close, take me with a ragged violence, leaving his marks on me, a brutal claim I couldn’t refuse. But by day, I was just his lawyer. All he had for me were cold commands. We lived like that for three years. I decided I was done. But he couldn’t know. When I handed him the divorce papers, disguised as a bill of lading, and he signed his name, a breath I didn’t know I was holding finally escaped me. I chased him for seven years and was married to him for three. Whatever was left of my heart finally flatlined. I knew I could never have his. Because it already belonged to someone else: Angelina, his underboss’s sister. He remembered her favorite restaurant. He got blind drunk with joy when she filed for divorce. He even posted his personal guards outside her door. Those were honors I never had. So I tricked him into signing the papers, packed my things, and vanished. What I didn't expect was what he did after I left. He put a king's ransom on my location, and even announced to the whole world that I was his wife.

Max Siegel loved me deeply and promised me the grandest wedding anyone had ever seen. However, just three days before the big day, everything changed. The custom-made wedding dress he'd ordered for me was given to his stepsister, Fawn Lewis, and instead, he handed me a pill—one that could erase memories. “Kate,” he said, “I don’t want to hurt you, but Fawn has just been diagnosed with terminal cancer. She doesn’t have long. Her last wish is to marry me. I can’t have her leave this world with regrets. “This pill will make you forget everything about us for a few days. But don’t worry. After the wedding is over, I’ll give you the antidote, and you’ll remember everything again. Then, I’ll give you the wedding you deserve.” His tone left no room for negotiation. Without hesitation, I took the pill and swallowed it. However, what he didn’t know was that I developed that drug myself, and there was no antidote. Three days from now, I would forget the man I loved most—him. And once that happens, there’s no turning back and no chance to start over.

I was scrubbing a mountain of dishes in a restaurant kitchen when I spotted my fiancé, Matteo DeLuca, who'd sworn he was buried in debt. He sat in a private dining room on the top floor of a three-Michelin-star restaurant. His tailored suit only added to his cold, intimidating air. Beside him, his right-hand man leaned forward to light the Don's cigar with practiced deference. Across from him, his legal advisor held a glass of red wine. "Matteo, isn't it time to put an end to this test? She even pawned her precious cello to pay off your debts." Matteo blew out a smoke ring and said nothing. The woman raised an eyebrow. "Then test her one more time. Tell her your enemies are going to cut off one of your hands, then see if she'll step in front of the blade for you." Hesitation flickered in Matteo's eyes. His fingers tightened around the cigar. After a long silence, he answered in a low voice. "This is the last test. If she passes, I'll give her the DeLuca name and all the honor that comes with it." I stood behind the glass partition, still clutching the $100 I'd just earned that day. To pay off his fake gambling debt, I'd given up my summer orchestra audition. I juggled three jobs, and the chilblains on my hands kept splitting open and scabbing over. I'd believed that if I could just get through it all, I'd be able to play my cello again. All that struggling just to survive, and it turned out I was only auditioning to become a Donna. I straightened the crumpled $100 bill, slipped it into my bag, and calmly untied my apron. If I still hadn't passed his loyalty test after everything I'd done, then I was done playing his game.

Lily Harper was my husband Victor Carter's first love. The day she got divorced, Victor dressed up and headed out with the newest toy on the market for her son. That was the day I started teaching our son, Arthur, to call him "Mr. Carter." He skipped Arthur's first-day-of-school assembly to take Lily's son, Leo, to an amusement park. I told Arthur, "Mr. Carter has a lot of work to do." When Lily called to say her place felt empty, Victor walked out on us on Christmas Day. I comforted my heartbroken son. "Let Mr. Carter go do his work. Mommy will always be here with you." Later, the two boys got into a fight at school, and the teacher called us in. Victor stood across from Arthur and me, right beside Lily. Arthur clenched his fists. "Mr. Carter, your precious Leo hit me first." When we got home, Victor realized how badly he'd hurt Arthur and decided to throw him a huge birthday party. In the middle of the party, Lily called again, crying because Leo had a fever. Victor put his phone down and gave Arthur an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, I..." Arthur looked back at him, his face blank. "It's okay, Mr. Carter. I have Mom. That's enough."

On Christmas Eve, my husband's widowed sister-in-law, Roxy, called again. My husband, Damian Caruso, was in his study, listening to his underboss go over the books. I glanced at my husband's phone. Roxy's name flashed across the screen, and I answered. Her voice was sweet and helpless. "Dami, the backyard cameras just caught a man climbing over my wall. I don't know what to do..." I knew that carefully practiced helplessness all too well. I kept my voice even. "Do you want me to send some men to check it out?" There was a pause. When Roxy spoke again, the sweetness had drained from her voice. "Camilla? Why are you answering his phone? I don't need armed men showing up at my house and drawing attention. Dami is the only one I trust." Damian stepped out of his study, and I handed him the phone. I didn't hear what Roxy said, but his expression changed at once. "Okay. I'm on my way." I knew what that meant. Nine months pregnant, and I'd be spending Christmas Eve dinner alone again. Five years of marriage. Five Christmas Eves. The same thing every year. Roxy's calls always came in the early evening on Christmas Eve. Never too early, never too late. Damian grabbed his coat, wearing that familiar look of apology. "Roxy has it hard enough on her own. Marco took a bullet for me. I promised him I'd look after her and the boy." "I'll check on her and come straight back. I promise I'll be home in time for Midnight Mass." It wasn't a question. He was telling me what he'd already decided. For the first four years, I'd argued. I'd cried. I'd asked him why he always left. And Damian always gave the same answers. "We're family. If I can help, I should." "Don't worry. This year, I'll stay the whole night with you." But he had never kept that promise. Outside, the church bells began to ring, and snow started to fall. I watched him walk away and suddenly realized I no longer cared whether he made it back in time. This year, I wasn't going to wait for him.

She had served the king for three years, but the king, seemingly devoid of passion, had summoned her to his bedchamber no fewer than 999 times. When, at last, he succumbed once more to slumber, she slipped carefully from the bed, taking great care not to disturb him. Every mark of their recent intimacy remained upon her person. Very softly, she whistled. Within moments, a dark-cloaked figure alighted upon the window ledge with scarcely a sound. “Have you considered this thoroughly?” Ciaran Noche’s voice was cooler than the night itself. Gathering her robe more tightly about herself, she answered in little more than a whisper. “I have. I wish to quit the palace.” Ciaran regarded her. “Your name is entered in the palace rolls. You cannot simply walk away. Unless you are prepared to feign your own death and forsake your present face for the remainder of your days, there is no escape.” “So be it.” Snow nodded. Whether she must die in the eyes of the world or assume another countenance altogether mattered little. If it purchased her freedom, she would pay the price without hesitation. “I shall return for you in a fortnight.” Ciaran disappeared into the darkness, leaving no trace that he had ever been there. Snow looked up at the slender crescent moon in the sky and released a long, weary sigh. Soon, it would all end. She had never been meant to belong within the palace. Her arrival at court had been nothing more than an accident of fate.

I'm Sicily's best-known assassin and Don Donatello Vicari's secret wife. At night, Donatello and I made love all over the estate, leaving traces in every room. By day, all he gave me were cold orders. I carried them out from the top of a bell tower, killing whoever caused trouble for the family. We never made our marriage public. He said that was how he protected me. But I'd had enough. I'd realized I would always be hidden away, never acknowledged as his wife. All I could do was watch my husband grow close to another woman, Gia Ferrini. That day, I had a woman in a red dress in my scope. I was about to pull the trigger when he quietly stopped me. "Let her go. She's never been part of the family business." The stray bullet tore into the market below. People turned to look, and my cover was blown. But he just raced down to help the woman in red to her feet, leaving me to face the danger alone. That was when I realized his talk of protecting me was just an excuse. I wasn't the one he cared about. I didn't want to stay in Sicily as his secret wife anymore.

I walked in on my husband, Dante Cavallaro, in bed with three women. This time, I didn't shoot any of them in the head as I once would have. I slipped off my wedding ring and tossed it onto the card table. "Fifty thousand says I leave the Cavallaro family today." Everyone bet I wouldn't dare. Five years ago, my family was slaughtered. To pay my father's crushing medical bills, I was forced to sign a contract promising the Cavallaro family a child. I had five years to give them an heir. When I was eight months pregnant, Dante found the contract and decided our marriage had been a setup. In the middle of the fight, he lost control and shoved me down the stairs. I lost the baby and the chance to ever have another. After that, he started bringing home one woman after another. Now he was threatening to cut off my father's oxygen because his new favorite had hurt herself and blamed me. Dante was sure I'd never leave him. I needed his money to keep my father alive. What he didn't know was that the contract had one more clause. I'd bought myself a way out with every port my family owned. "If no heir is born within five years, the woman may end the agreement on her own and leave freely." Today was the last day of those five years.