Bias Mafia Short Stories & Countdown Novels

Everyone in New Volka's underground world knows that the young Don Lorenzo Corsi is a cold-blooded lunatic. He only shows his gentle side to me. Seven years ago, Lorenzo saves me from an underground casino that belongs to the Corsi family. He also pays off my sickly Padre's astronomical medical bill on my behalf. He slips the family heirloom diamond ring that identifies me as the Donna of the family on my finger. When the heads of the family oppose his decision, he declares that he will only accept me as his wife in his lifetime. I once believed I was the only one he favored, but everything changed when his childhood friend, Viviana Rossi, returned to New Volka and became the family's new Consigliere. Lorenzo silently allows her to sit next to the main seat during family banquets—the spot that used to exclusively belong to me. "The Rossi family took a heavy blow for my sake in the past, Clara," he says. "I have to compensate her. However, my heart and the position of 'Mrs. Corsi' will forever belong to you." I believe Lorenzo's words, giving in time and time again as I remain by his side through seven bloody and turbulent years. On our seventh wedding anniversary, a rival family bombs our estate in the suburbs. Lorenzo rushes into the collapsing banquet hall and picks Viviana up. Although I'm three months pregnant, he says, "You're the strongest, Clara. Just hold on for three minutes. I'll come back for you once I send her to the bulletproof car." Three minutes pass, but Lorenzo still hasn't come back. The baby is gone when I regain consciousness. I also lose the ability to become a mother for the rest of my days. I calmly withdrew my hand and looked at Lorenzo, who had sunk to one knee beside the bed, overcome with remorse. Seven years ago, he saved Papa's life on my behalf. I've already paid off my debt to him with the seven years I spent with him and my child's life. I will leave his empire completely and live the rest of my life without him.

Alessio Romano and I have grown up together. But so far, we've severed our friendship with each other 99 times over Vittoria Belleandi. The first time occurred because Vittoria tried to kill my puppy out of fear toward dogs. When I was fighting with her over my puppy, I shoved her to the ground. So, Alessio called off our friendship for three whole days. The sixth time occurred when Vittoria wanted to experience the feeling of getting confessed to in public. She wanted Alessio, who was already my boyfriend at that time, to do that to her. When I refused to let Vittoria have her way, Alessio cut off all ties with me for seven days. The 100th time occurs when I take away the management right of the branch company, something that Vittoria has been vying for a long time. But this time, Alessio doesn't cut off all ties with me. Instead, he tells me, "Chiara, I already told you that the Don will only acknowledge Vittoria's capabilities and let her stay as a part of the core family once she secures the management right. But you've ruined everything "Now, I can only register my marriage with Vittoria in order to secure her position! Only then will we proceed to discuss our own marriage!" Then, Alessio snatches the marriage application form from my hands. After witnessing Alessio and Vittoria signing their names together, I no longer throw a tantrum. Instead, I take off my engagement ring and book a flight ticket to another destination. But why is it that Alessio keeps begging me to return to him after I've left?

When I surprised my husband, Carlo, the Don of a Mafia family, with a positive pregnancy test, he threw an azoospermia report in my face instead. "Who seduced you?" I thought he was joking. Then his childhood friend Mia called. "Don Moretti, you've seen the report. Madison's trying to pass off another man's bastard as yours!" That was when I realized one piece of paper had convinced everyone I'd betrayed the Mafia Don I'd married. Carlo didn't ask for a divorce. He didn't even pursue the accusation any further. He still drove me to my law firm and canceled family meetings to accompany me to prenatal appointments. But every time we came home from the hospital, he'd stare at my belly and ask, "You still won't tell me the truth?" Over and over, I told him the baby was his. He would stroke my cheek and shake his head. "Give me your lover's name, Madison. Once he's dead, I'll accept the child." It was insane. There was no other man. A month later, I suddenly miscarried. Carlo stood beside my hospital bed, white as a sheet. I thought he might finally believe me. Instead, he immediately ordered the doctor, "Preserve the embryonic tissue. Run a paternity test against my DNA. I want to know if the baby was mine." I couldn't take another second of it. I pulled off my wedding ring and looked him in the eye. "I want a divorce." I didn't care what the test found anymore. Our marriage had been doomed from the moment he chose suspicion over me.

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.

The 99th time my fiancé, Draven, hung up on me, I dragged myself to the family's church, my diagnosis of end-stage renal disease clutched in my hand. "Father, I wish to renounce the Rocci family and break off my engagement to Draven Frost." The words had barely left my lips when my parents burst in with my adopted sister, Bianca. My father, the family's Consigliere, didn't hesitate. He slapped me across the face, right there in front of the priest. "Your fiancé is a respected Capo in our world, and you choose to insult him like this!" "You're dragging our family's name through the mud in front of the whole organization!" My mother snatched the diagnosis from my hand, sneering after a brief glance. "Playing sick for attention again, are you? What is it you want this time?" My adopted sister, Bianca, clung to our parents' arms, her voice choked with tears. "I'm so sorry, sister. You can have my place at the gala. Please, just stop making trouble for Mom and Dad!" I wiped the blood trickling from my nose and calmly repeated my words to the priest. "I am no longer a daughter of the Rocci family. I am not worthy of an alliance with the Frosts." "I will be dead in three days. I want this engagement broken before then."

Raffaele Moretti, the Mafia Don, once made me a promise. If I proposed to him fifty-one times on livestream for the whole world to see, he would show up for the fifty-second and finally make our relationship public. But when the night of my fifty-second proposal came, Raffaele was in the Maldives with his childhood sweetheart, Gianna. He bought her an entire yacht just to put a smile back on her face. I became the laughingstock of the internet. Later, he sent me an apologetic message. “Gianna was upset. I only went with her because she needed a change of scenery. That's why I missed it. Don't read too much into this.” “I'll say yes when you propose for the fifty-third time. Then you'll be my Donna.” Sure enough, he arrived at my fifty-third livestream in a perfectly tailored suit. And as he watched, I set fire to all fifty-two letters I had written asking him to marry me. Hidden among them was my liver cancer diagnosis. "There won't be a fifty-third chance, Raffaele." Because in a matter of days, I would be dead.

Julian Hayes spent eight years climbing from first officer to captain of the most coveted international routes. I stood beside him for every mile of that climb. For him, I walked away from the Valenti family, the most feared Mafia name on the East Coast. I buried Elena Valenti, and became Lina Vale, the girl who smiled in the cabin while he ruled the cockpit. The day I left, my father stood on the marble steps of our estate and said, "Elena, if you walk out that gate for him, don’t come crawling back." Julian never knew. To him, I was a woman with no real family, no real power, and no life worth asking about. I was the one who memorized his flight schedule, packed his stomach pills, and kept dinner warm until midnight. Once, I asked him, "Can you take me into the sky the way you see it? Just once." He didn’t even put down his fork. "The cockpit is a workplace, Lina. Not a theme park." I said okay and never asked again. Then one sleepless dawn, I found the encrypted album on his phone. More than forty cockpit photos: cloud seas, blood-red sunsets, double rainbows after storms, the Milky Way over the Atlantic. Every one had been sent to the same contact. A teddy bear emoji. The newest photo showed half a sun hanging off the wingtip. His caption read, [Next time you’re off, I’ll put you in the observer seat. Sit on the right. That’s where the whole sky opens up.] She replied, [I’ll hold you to that.] I put the phone back. I didn’t change the password, didn’t delete the album, didn’t wake him up to beg for an explanation. At dawn, I brewed his coffee like always, sat alone at the kitchen island, and drank mine in silence. Then I sent my resignation letter and called a number I hadn’t touched in eight years. I watched the first flight of the morning rise beyond the Manhattan skyline and said, "Papa, I’m coming home." When the line connected, my father’s voice was colder than a gun barrel. "Have you thought it through?"

Three months into our marriage, I was cooking dinner when I noticed that every plate, bowl, and cup in the house was smaller than standard dinnerware. That slight difference mattered. Every time I lifted a bowl or wrapped my hand around a cup, I had to adjust my grip to the tighter curve. I held up two bowls of different sizes and asked Damian Moretti why. He said they had simply been custom-made for the Family. That night, a torrential downpour left me stranded at the station after I finished handling Family business. Across the street, inside a restaurant, Damian held a bite of steak to the lips of the young woman opposite him, then gently wiped the sauce from the corner of her mouth. The young woman was the Family's new secretary. One look at the custom dinnerware in front of her, and I understood everything. So that smaller size had been designed for her. I checked my phone. "It's pouring. My old wrist injury is acting up, and I can't hold an umbrella. Can you come get me?" I had sent that message three hours ago. Nothing had come back. He never let me ride in his private armored car or appear at his side at society dinners. In public, he always kept his distance. "As Don, I have to keep my public and private lives separate. The Donna can't draw too much attention, or my men will talk." He held to those boundaries of his so faithfully. It turned out the boundaries only applied to some people. Through the rain, I saw a small plaque on the front passenger seat: CECE ONLY. And suddenly, I no longer wanted to stay in this marriage.

Louis, the Cascino family's Don, canceled the wedding celebration he had promised me for the twelfth time so he could look after his adoptive father's daughter, Jenny. As the family's Donna, I was left to clean up the mess from yet another canceled wedding. When I returned to the estate, I found Jenny lying weakly in Louis's arms. I asked, "Louis, did you cancel our wedding just to stay with her?" Louis cut me off immediately. "Shirley, can't you be a little more understanding? Jenny's father adopted me when I was young. Now that he has passed away, I can't abandon her when she has come to me for help." Jenny started coughing again. Louis immediately lowered his head to comfort her, treating me like I wasn't even there. Just one month earlier, I had taken a bullet for Louis during an ambush and had been badly wounded. And yet, he had barely glanced at me. "Jenny gets scared easily. I need to spend more time with her. A wound like that is nothing to you." With that, he turned and headed for the VIP hospital room next door, reserved for the still shaken Jenny. Even now, Louis was still whispering reassurances to the woman in his arms. "Don't be scared. I'll always take care of you. I won't let anyone push you around." Watching all of this, I turned and walked out of the room. I no longer wanted to give everything to someone who treated me like I didn't exist. This time, I chose to leave.

Ever since my husband, the mafia capo Rocco Marchetti, poured all his attention and the family's resources into his brother's widow, the woman whose husband took a bullet for him. I found our daughter Tessy's diary, where she had started writing, "My Papa is gone." A nun from her private Catholic school called, asking about his passing. I paused for a moment. "Yes," I replied. "He passed away a long time ago." On Father's Day, the school organized a trip to the church to light prayer candles. While other children wrote cards praying for their fathers' safety, Tessy neatly wrote just two words on hers: "To Heaven." During the parent-teacher open house, the nuns displayed the children's decorated diaries on their desks. The theme for their entries was My Father. My Papa died in a shootout in the next neighborhood over. A lady there wouldn't stop crying, and then Papa never came home. After every entry like this, she would clutch the crucifix on her necklace, her small hand gripping it so tightly her palm grew slick with sweat. Eventually, Rocco sensed the growing chill at home. He dropped everything and rushed back to the estate with a bouquet of expensive red roses, hoping to celebrate his daughter's birthday with her. The door opened. On the coffee table lay Tessy's new diary, its title scrawled in a childish hand: If Papa Were Still Alive.

In New York’s Upper East Side, there were two heirs. One was a speed-obsessed daredevil dominating the racetracks, the other was a brilliant actuary who controlled the flow of capital. Born into powerful families and polar opposites in temperament, yet they grew up side by side as each other’s only best friend. They had fought over girls and bickered endlessly over racing bets. However, at fifteen, there was one thing they did in perfect unison. They each put on the same roughly carved bronze badge. They were trinkets Mia had idly made during a craft class, marked only by a faint “M” scratched on the back. Back then, Mia was seated in the last row of the classroom. Her background was a complete mystery to everyone. Yet they wore that badge for ten whole years. Whether standing on the F1 podium or locking in billion-dollar trades at the exchange, the cheap little badge on their chests never changed. Until Ella showed up. She was the cherished daughter of a rising conglomerate family. She hand-stitched two gold-thread fabric patches and gifted them to them. The patches looked so ordinary they looked like the kind of trinket you would find three for a dollar at a flea market. And yet, they both replaced their bronze badges with her plain patches. Mia did not say anything. She simply folded away an old newspaper clipping with a photo of the three of them smiling together. That night, she called her father in Sicily. Her voice was emotionless. “Papa, I accept the marriage arrangement.”

The moment I decided to leave Vincent Graves, I did three things. First, I recalled the pregnancy report I had been about to forward to him and replaced it with a scheduled breakup message. Second, I called the bridal boutique and cancelled the custom order for my wedding dress. I had been measured three times for it. I had waited five months. I never wore it. I never would. Third, I called Dr. Helena Shaw and accepted the invitation I had turned down a week ago. An eight-year medical research program. Completely sealed. No contact with the outside world. Before he could pull off the wedding he had been planning, I vanished from his life completely. He never noticed that while he let Cora take my place at the wedding rehearsal and stayed out all night, I was quietly erasing every trace of myself, step by step. I became exactly the wife Vincent always said he wanted: reasonable, gracious, unbothered. But after I was gone, he lost control and asked me, "Why aren't you angry? Don't you love me anymore?" I said nothing. I only remembered the flirtatious voice messages Cora had sent him, the ones I had heard from his phone. And I calmly dialed the number that would take me away.

While my entire family was helping my adopted sister try on wedding gowns, the doctor told me I had almost no time left. I held my terminal stomach cancer diagnosis and sent one message to the Moretti family group chat. “If I were dying, would any of you miss me?” Three minutes later, my parents replied. “You would lie about having cancer just to ruin Bianca’s wedding?” “Enough. The Moretti family has no daughter who tells lies like this.” My brother called, already irritated. “Bianca’s father died taking a bullet for me. No one will ever walk her down the aisle. She only wants to experience one wedding. Why can’t you let this go?” My childhood sweetheart and fiancé, Adrian Vitale, never answered. He was kneeling in front of Bianca, gently arranging the skirt of my wedding gown. Seven days earlier, my family had decided to give her my wedding. I stood there for a long time before signing the body donation papers. My parents and brother could choose her. My fiancé could choose her too. This time, I would fight for nothing.

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.

The first thing I did when I came back to life was to pawn off my engagement to the Don of the Schroder family, Edmund, on my stepsister. In my last life, he used the "family rules" to make me give up the one thing I loved—racing. He threw out all my colorful dresses and turned me into his canary in a gilded cage. I died, suffocated and hopeless. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the marriage contract was to be signed. I quietly switched my name with my stepsister Laura's and let Edmund sign the papers. He didn't forget to warn me, "Stay out of trouble. Our wedding is in three days. Be a good girl and wait for me to come get you." But he had no idea I'd already bought a fake ID and passport. In three days, I'd be gone. I'd be free.

Because of the death of his first love, Don Stefano Giullani has hated me for eight years. During those eight years, I make every effort to please him—I broker arms deals for him, handle smuggling routes, and even take bullets meant for him. Even when he sees me barely clinging to life, Stefano only says, "If you really wanted to please me, you should have let the bullet hit somewhere fatal." I press my hand over the wound and stare deeply at him. Later, on the night our enemies surround the casino and it's raining bullets, Stefano pushes me away from him. He's riddled with bullets himself while saving me. Before he dies, he shields me and gets me safely into the car. Once the car door closes, he says softly, "In the next life, I don't want to meet you again." After Stefano dies, his Madre slaps me hard across the face. "Why wasn't it you who died? If I had known it would come to this, I would have let him marry Lucia! "It's all my fault for forcing him to marry you. You deserve to die!" She slaps me again, causing me to lose my footing and fall into the sea. Everyone just stands on the boat, watching in silence. Seawater fills my nose, and when I open my eyes again, I find myself reborn eight years into the past—to the day before Stefano and I are about to get married. This time, I will do as he wishes. I'll stop clinging to him. I'll allow him and Lucia to be together.

By the eighth year of our relationship, I have finally earned the approval of Isabella Visconti, the Madre, and secure my place in the Valentino Famiglia. I should be eagerly anticipating the Donna ceremony, counting down the days until Luca Valentino swears his oath of loyalty before the entire family. But on the day my wedding dress arrives, I choose to return to Lunavere instead. That very night, Luca comes rushing to my apartment. "You won't even try on your wedding dress or answer my calls. Elena, what the hell are you still unhappy about?" He's clearly rushed over. Dark circles shadow his eyes, and he hasn't even changed out of the suit he's worn to his meetings. I can see how much he cares about me and how eagerly he's looking forward to our wedding. But just a few days earlier, when I needed him most, he rushed back to the estate in the middle of the night. We're attacked by a rival family that day, and I was injured. While I lay in a hospital bed, he left me behind. "Viola's father died in an attack similar to this one. She'll be scared if I'm not by her side," he said. Blood seeped from my wound, and the pain was so intense that I could barely speak. All I could do was summon every last ounce of strength I had to cling to his hand. He sighed, gently slipped his hand free, and tucked the blanket around me. "Behave yourself. You'll be my Donna soon, so you need to learn to be more understanding. Don't let jealousy get the better of you." That was the day I realized it's time to let go. From my hospital bed, I called my mentor, Magda Steiner. "Prof. Steiner, I'm ready to start over." In seven days, I'll leave this place and never return.

I once thought I would spend my entire life in love with my husband, Vincenzo, the Don of the De Luca family. In the end, our whirlwind romance was no match for a childhood promise. On the day Vincenzo went through with a sham marriage to his childhood sweetheart, Chloe, to honor a blood oath, I destroyed the penthouse we had filled with memories and left his city for good. When Vincenzo used the family's entire intelligence network and still couldn't find me, the untouchable Don was driven mad. Later, he offered a worldwide bounty for any information on my whereabouts and even publicly begged me to come back. Too bad for him, I already wore another man's ring. Vincenzo, nothing waits for you forever. Especially a love you strangled with your own hands.

I packed the last of my things from the apartment into a box and sent my fiancé, William, a voice message. [Let's break up.] A second later, he replied, [OK.] Across from me, my cousin Mia almost spilled her martini on the tablecloth. "You two were together for seven years, about to get engaged, and it's over just like that? How is it that when I dump a guy, it turns into a whole dramatic saga?" "Still, I have to admire you. Giving up your life as the family’s Princess to build everything from scratch with him." I slowly stirred my coffee, the bitter taste flooding my mouth. "Because he never listens to my voice messages." I tossed my phone onto the table and pushed it toward her. Her eyes landed on the screen, on a long list of unplayed voice messages. For the past seven years, my conversations with William had been a one-way street. The rare 'Mm' from him was the most enthusiastic response I could hope for. I had grown used to his cold nature long ago. Until I saw a long voice message on his phone, played in its entirety. It was from his childhood friend, Tessa. In that moment, I finally let go of the sliver of hope I had been clutching for seven years. And now, it was time for me to return to the Miller family as its heiress.

At the birthday banquet of the old Godfather, Salvatore Moretti, the estate was bustling with high-profile guests. Don Marco Moretti arrived late, bringing along his new secretary, Sophie. "Elena, move to the opposite side. It's Sophie's first time at an event like this, and she’s used to sitting next to me." I didn't hesitate for a single second. Picking up my wine glass, I walked straight over and sat down beside Salvatore, whose face was completely grim. Marco raised an eyebrow, seemingly caught off guard by how compliant I was. He then guided a visibly nervous Sophie into the seat that had just been mine. Soon after, my phone buzzed in my hand. 【Are you making a scene again? How many times do I have to tell you? I just brought the girl out to show her the world. Stop throwing these pathetic, jealous tantrums.】 【I’ll fly you to Paris next week to pick out your wedding dress. Stop giving me the cold shoulder, alright?】 I let out a soft laugh. Seeing the smile on my face from across the table, Marco smiled back, thinking he had smoothed things over. What he didn't know—What I was actually laughing at was the fact that we wouldn't be going to Paris at all. Exactly ten minutes before he walked through the door, I had already finalized the dissolution of our engagement with Salvatore. A notification from the airline popped up on my screen: Flight departing in three hours. Marco, after tonight, you and I are completely finished.