After Death Mafia Short Stories & Bias Novels

Dad always said a mafia don's daughter had to be strong, even in the middle of a gunfight. Our family had just been ambushed by a rival crime family. A stray bullet grazed my little sister's arm. Mom cradled her protectively while Dad frantically called for an ambulance. I was the one who'd stood at the front, covering their escape. Now I lay on the ground with three bullets in my body, and nobody even looked at me. "Dad, I... it hurts so much." "You've always been strong. They're just a few bullets, and nothing vital was hit. Stop making such a scene!" Mom glanced back at me, then quickly turned away. "If you can still cry and shout, you can't be hurt that badly. Your sister's already lost so much blood. Are you really going to put her life at risk just to compete for our attention?" Dad patted my head to comfort me. "Rest here for a bit. The ambulance can't take all of us. We'll get your sister to the hospital and come back for you." Then they climbed into the ambulance with my sister and left without another glance. If they'd only looked closely, they would have seen that one of the bullets had also hit the left side of my chest. When I was six, I fell during family training and broke my forearm. All Dad offered was a few words of encouragement. "It's only a small injury. You'll heal soon. Learn to be strong." Later, after they adopted my little sister, she scraped her knee and Mom summoned the family's finest medical team and didn't leave her side for days. I'd spent fifteen years learning to be strong on my own. I was used to it. I lay quietly on the ground, watching the ambulance disappear. Mom, Dad, this time I'm being strong too. But I don't think I'll still be here when you come back.

I was supposed to be the pampered youngest daughter of the Falcone crime family. My fiancé was Lorenzo, the heir to the Caruso dynasty. I had three brothers who were the most feared men on the streets. But everything changed the moment my long-lost older sister returned. "Isabella was kidnapped by our enemies when she was three. She went through hell until the family found her at eighteen. Why can’t you just cut her some slack?" "Elena, if Isabella hadn't gone missing, the Don would never have had you just to fill the void. You owe her your life. What right do you have to compete with her?" Time and again, I stepped back into the shadows for my sister. But on the night before my wedding, Isabella called Lorenzo. "Lorenzo... I’m at the Old Port docks. There’s a strange car here and three men just got out... I’m so scared..." Lorenzo didn't even wait to hear the rest. He slammed on the brakes and kicked me out of the car in the middle of a torrential downpour. I clung to the door of that black Maybach, begging him. "Lorenzo, it’s the night before our wedding. This is rival turf." "Just this once, for the sake of the family’s reputation, can’t you choose me?" Lorenzo grabbed my wrists and shoved me away. "If anything happens to Isabella, I swear I’ll send you to hell myself!" But those "three men" Isabella mentioned? They were actually our three brothers, who were only there to watch the ocean and set off fireworks with her. That night, my three brothers and my fiancé were at the seaside, showering her with affection. And I died in an abandoned slaughterhouse on the edge of the city. This time, I finally gave way to my sister completely. But tell me—when you saw my corpse, why were you all crying?

When I found out I was suffering from heart failure, I was given ten days left to live. For the first time in my life, I smiled because I could finally repay Don Santos for taking me in. To repay Frank Santos' debt, I became his daughter's personal maid in private for 12 years, although I was his adopted daughter in name. I willingly endured all of Principessa Jackie Santos' tantrums. Jenny made me stay in the dark, damp basement and never allowed me to share the table when the family had their meals. On several trips that I had accompanied her on, Jenny left me behind on the outskirts on purpose and made me walk back on my own. I snapped out of the memories and dragged my exhausted body to see Don Santos for one last wish. I hoped to be buried with my real parents after my death, but when I arrived at the door, I heard the Donna, Marie Delgado, speaking to him. "Jenny has suffered enough for all these years. Isn't it time for us to tell her the truth?" What truth was she talking about? I was about to knock on the door, but I stopped when I heard their conversation. "Jackie is our adopted daughter, after all, and she has a sensitive soul. If we aren't hard on Jenny now, what should we do if she bullies Jackie by flaunting her status as our real daughter? "Now that she has labored away for Jackie for so many years, we'll let her return to her rightful place as our Principessa two weeks later, on her birthday." I was stunned. I was their real daughter, but they had watched me be abused for 12 years just to protect the feelings of their adopted daughter! "I can't wait for two weeks…" I would not live long enough to see that day.

The day I was diagnosed with leukemia, my first reaction wasn't fear. It was relief. I wasn't really a Moretti anyway. If I died, I wouldn't owe anyone anything. When I was six, Bianca and I fought over a stuffed bear. My mother dragged me into a corner and said each word slowly enough to make sure I understood. “You are not our biological child. Everything in this house is something we've given you out of kindness.” After that, I never asked for anything again. Bianca got new dresses. I wore her old school uniforms. Bianca took piano lessons. I washed dishes in the kitchen to earn money for breakfast the next morning. I lived like a piece of luggage someone had left in the Moretti house, always ready to be claimed and taken away. After my diagnosis, Dr. Patel told me a stem-cell transplant was my best chance. A parent or biological sibling might be a match. I didn't tell the Morettis. Instead, I searched for my birth family in secret and used seven years of savings to prepay for the cheapest cremation in Chicago. Then, last night, I heard my parents talking inside my father's study. “Do you ever think we went too far?” my mother asked. “Serena acts more like a stranger every year.” My father sighed. “What choice did we have? Bianca is the adopted one. After her father died saving my life, I had to make sure she never felt like she came second. If Serena knew she was our biological daughter, why would she ever keep stepping aside for Bianca?” The cup slipped from my hand and rolled across the floor. I was their biological daughter. The girl they had raised as their real child was the one they had adopted. For eighteen years, my parents had erased me from their family so Bianca would never have to feel insecure. Standing outside that door, I started laughing. But the truth had come too late. My leukemia was already high-risk. My bone marrow was failing.

"Ms. Rowe, are you certain you want to delete all identity records? Once they're erased, you'll be completely removed from the system. No one will be able to find you again." Eva Rowe pauses for a moment before nodding with quiet resolve. "Yes. I want to disappear from this world. I want to make sure no one can ever find me." Two seconds of silence follow on the other end, as if they're giving her one last chance to reconsider. "Understood, Ms. Rowe. The wipeout protocol will be completed within 14 days. By then, you'll be officially 'dead' in all databases. Please make the necessary arrangements." With that, the call ends. Eva books a one-way ticket to Felnor, scheduled for 14 days later. Then, she turns off her phone, watching as the screen goes dark. She stands by the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at the endless city lights, and lets out a soft, cold laugh. She is no longer anyone's Eva.

• My mom died saving me during a kidnapping. At least, that’s what everyone believed. My dad—once the man who spoiled me like his little princess—turned his grief into hatred. He adopted a girl who looked just like Mom and gave her all the love that used to be mine. For five years, I lived in that shadow, broken and unwanted. Until the day I was beaten and left for dead… and my mom came back. Alive. He used to call me his treasure. Now he calls me a curse. But the night my mom returned, everything shattered—his lies, his obsession, and the truth I was never meant to know.

In the seventh year of holding down the Chicago arms trade for Matteo, he finally came back from the Mediterranean. The night the Five Families threw him his coronation ball, I put on my custom gown. I was ready to see the man I had waited seven years for. Right before my entrance, my cousin Vivienne barged into the dressing room. She did our books, and she snatched the head-table nameplate off my table. She looked at me with cold pity. "Camilla, don't embarrass yourself. The seat for the Don's wife was never meant for you." She slammed a yellowed betting slip from a Vegas underground bookmaker onto the table. The wager was a hundred grand. The name on the ticket was Matteo. The betting line had just one sentence: Let's see how many years the ruined Bellini princess will stay faithful to my old love letters. Vivienne told me the truth. He kept a stripper overseas years ago. His bastard daughter was almost five now. The Commission knew. His capos looked the other way. Even my own mother, living on his handouts, helped him keep it completely quiet. For seven years, he sent handwritten letters sealed with wax. Every single one went on and on about the Sicilian rain. He wrote about how much he missed me. He told me to keep the house safe. Just for those sweet words, I took bullets for him. I stayed by the bedside of the dying old Don until his last breath. I survived firefight after firefight. The entire underworld knew about this bet. I was the only fool in the dark. My eyes burned, and I laughed. Fine. I would walk right out of his empire, in front of every boss in America.