Plot Twists Mafia Short Stories & Bias Face Slapping Novels

On the day my husband, Martin Clark, took wedding photos with his secretary, I didn't cause a massive scene like I used to. Instead, I personally went to help them pick out the best shots. I even had the photos framed and hung them right in the living room for every visiting guest to see. Rumors spread like wildfire among the families of Sicilana that I was the most powerless donna, allowing any mistress or side-chick to climb over my head. I simply smiled and said nothing. Half a month later, Martin explained to me, "The photos were just a birthday wish of hers." I nodded obediently. "Okay." In my past life, the moment I saw those photos, I rushed right in front of Martin and threw a huge fit, even posting all of his explicit cheating photos onto social media. To punish me, Martin deliberately sabotaged my father’s shipping lines, causing our family to suffer devastating losses. Using the excuse that I was mentally ill, he sent me to a psychiatric hospital, where I was controlled with drugs and died within a few years. Now that I have a second chance, I won't harbor a single shred of love for Martin. I only want money! Every single time he has an affair, I will divert another one of the Clark family's shipping lines away. Right now, there are only three lines left. One more mistress, and the Clark family will be turned into an empty shell.

All I did was reach for a pastry Lila had her eye on, and my childhood sweetheart Luca, the Don's heir of Galvani family, had me thrown in the estate cellar for three days and three nights. His voice was as cold. "I've told you before, Lila is like a sister to me. Why can't you just let her be?" This time I didn't cry or beg. I just looked at him. I had been half out of my mind over this man for more than a decade. I had even slashed my own wrist in front of his father, just to force him into marrying me. Luca looked at me like he was disappointed all over again. "With a temper like yours, how could you ever be the Donna of Galvani family?" "Get down to the cellar and think about what you've done. Come back when you've come to your senses." Then, as if he couldn't quite help himself, he dropped his voice: "Look, as long as you come around and stop making Lila's life difficult, everything goes back to how it was. Okay?" I clenched my jaw. It felt like a blade pressed against my chest. "Okay," I said. Next month, the Don of the Ferrara family will marry me as his Donna. This time, I am done with Luca.

"Consigliere, I want a divorce from Cassius. I’m handing back all the businesses under my name. Draft up the papers." The old Consigliere frowned. "Camilla, this marriage keeps the peace between our two families. Can you think this over?" I was the frontwoman for Cassius Marino’s dirty empire for three years. In the shadows, I was this cold-blooded Don's legal wife. A month ago, a Mexican cartel kidnapped me. That night, the cartels blew up my husband's secure line, demanding a thirty-million-dollar ransom. He let it ring. They ended up throwing me into an abandoned meat locker in freezing temperatures. I almost froze to death. Luckily, a butcher stumbled in and dragged me out just in time. And on that very night, while I was dying, Cassius was in a Vegas penthouse pool... fucking Bianca. The woman who stole my life. Right then, my years of love for him just vanished. This hopeless marriage was a mistake from day one. I finally woke up. And this time, I was ready to vanish from his dark empire for good. "My mind is made up," I gave the old Consigliere a cold nod. "And Cassius won't object." I always knew the truth—my Don husband never loved me for a single second. But I'd looked up to him like a fool since I was a little girl. Three years ago, when he casually asked if I wanted to marry him, I actually cried happy tears and said yes. Soon, the clock would strike midnight. It would be our third anniversary. I had the perfect final gift ready for the almighty Don—a divorce. Freedom for him, and for me.

On the day of the funeral, Marcus asked me to share him with his sisters-in-law. The moment the news broke, Selena, the eldest brother's wife, hurled her wine glass to the floor. Vivian, the second brother's wife, raised her voice and tore into Marcus for having no sense of decency. But the Hartley family's men dropped to their knees, begging the two widows to become Marcus’s mistresses, to carry on the bloodline in honor of their fallen husbands. I stood off to the side watching, and something in me snapped. I shoved through the crowd, slammed my hands on the long table, and demanded to know exactly what Marcus thought I was to him. I called him no better than a thug. Then I turned on the two sisters-in-law, called them frauds in widow's clothing, and by the end I'd said something unforgivable to just about everyone in that room. After that, I couldn't let it go. I hired a lawyer and sued them for fraud, for a staged marriage. They turned it around on me and said I was plotting to swallow the entire Hartley estate and drive what was left of the family into the ground. My father's business was sabotaged again and again. Three key shipping routes went dark. The dockyard was seized. I was thrown out of the estate and died in a damp basement in Sicily, with no doctor and no family. The landlord found me when he came to collect rent. I only learned the truth after I died. They'd been working together all along. His public reveal of the mistress was merely meant to drive me to snap, giving him a valid excuse to end our marriage. Then I opened my eyes. I was back in that living room, on that same day. The portraits of the two brothers sat on the long table. Selena stood in a black dress, eyes rimmed red. "Marcus, your brother's body is barely cold, and you want us to be your mistresses?" Vivian wore a pale blouse, her voice trembling. "I'd sooner die than betray your brother." This time around, I was going to give them exactly what they asked for.

I was engaged to Silas, Don of the Vance Famiglia, yet in the annual family portrait, I was shoved into the back corner. Standing right beside him was Camilla, his most trusted Capo. He sighed impatiently. "We have plenty of photos together, Scarlett. Missing one won't kill you. You're the future Donna. Stop being so petty." I swallowed my pride and gave up my spot. But my compromise bought me nothing. The necklace meant for me ended up around Camilla's neck. His plus-one to galas became Camilla. His excuse was always the same: "She's a vital part of the syndicate. You shouldn't compete with her." So, I gave him exactly what he wanted. I stopped being petty. I shredded the wedding planner I had poured my heart into, trashed our photos, and left New York for good. And suddenly, the cold, calculating Don was tearing the city apart looking for me.

When I was three months pregnant, I walked straight into an ambush. A bullet tore through my arm, and they rushed me to the hospital. By the time it was over, the baby had been torn out of me alive. The surgeon, Mia, passed it off as a tragic mistake. I tore the hospital apart, and my husband, Leon, only looked annoyed. "It's one kid. We'll have another. Why put the doctor through hell over it?" Then I saw the smug woman standing behind him, and it all came together. I smiled at Leon. What he didn't know was that in the gang shootout three months ago, the bullet to his stomach had left him sterile for good. And that baby was the only blood he would ever have.

My sister Brenda fell in love with Don Joseph Genovese because he saved her life once. She thought a man that dangerous had chosen her. Then she learned the truth. Joseph had only pulled her out of that riot because she looked like his wife, Maria, when Maria was young. Any sane woman would have walked away. Brenda decided Maria had to die. She tracked Maria’s schedule, planned a hit-and-run, and meant to play the heroic bystander after putting Joseph’s wife in the ground. If Maria was gone, Brenda believed she could take her place. In my first life, I stopped her. I knocked her out before she could make her move. I begged her to understand that Joseph was not some lovesick man from her mafia novels. He was a Don. If he found out, he would not just punish her. He would burn our whole family with her. Brenda cried. She nodded. She promised she understood. That night, she poured paraquat into my water glass. As I died, she whispered, “You ruined my shot at the big life, Sharon. So I ruined yours.” Then I opened my eyes again. I was back on the day she made her move. This time, I stayed where I was.

I get approached for legal representation by my ex-boyfriend, Dante Romano, once I become the most prominent lawyer in the country. I am Dante's secret lover—the woman he could never openly claim—four years ago. I am unable to reveal our relationship, receive a ring, and am forbidden from ever setting foot inside the Romano Famiglia estate. It is because of the century-old tradition governing the Romano Famiglia—only a woman who rolls a 20 on the 20-sided gold die 20 consecutive times can become the Donna of the Romano Famiglia. I try countless times over the course of four years, yet every single roll lands on a "one". I eventually become the laughingstock of the entire eastern side of the country, with them claiming I don't have what it takes to become the Donna. However, the return of my foster sister, Sofia Conti, changes everything. She casually tosses the die and rolls a "20" 20 times in a row, securing her engagement to Dante that same night. It is only later that Dante confesses to me. "I tampered with your golden die so that it would always land on a 'one,' Elena. Sofia comes from an ordinary background and needs a legendary story to earn her place in this world. You understand why I did it, right?" It turns out that four years of my humility, struggles, and being a laughingstock are nothing more than a stepping stone he paves for another woman. I leave Kingsbay and head to Ravenport alone while they celebrate their wedding of the century, starting from scratch as a low-level intern. Four years later, I eventually become a legendary lawyer with an undefeated record. Dante suddenly arrives at my office to plead his case, pushing a half-million-dollar check toward me while saying, "You're the only one who can win this, Elena." I look at him and smile faintly. I then pull open a drawer and place the same 20-sided gold die from years ago right in front of him. "I'll represent you as long as you roll a '20' 20 times in a row."

On my birthday, my mafia husband, Alessandro, didn't come home to celebrate with me. He sent a bodyguard with a bouquet of wilting roses and a text message: [Picked these myself from the garden. Happy birthday, love.] A moment later, his right-hand woman, Chloe, posted an Instagram story. It was a fifty-thousand-dollar custom flower box, filled with black roses, their petals embedded with crushed diamonds. The caption read: [My Capo says, "If you love me, you show me devotion that never dies."] I didn't storm the casino to confront him. I just packed my bags and prepared to leave the city. The first day I was gone, word got back to me that Alessandro couldn't care less. He blew a ring of cigar smoke and said, "The world out there is dangerous. She'll be back in a few days, begging me to take her back." The first month I was gone, Alessandro tracked me down with an international call. "I'll buy you a villa in the Heights. Just come back, okay?" But a villa was never what I wanted.

Everyone knew that I was the treasure Lorenzo Vitali held in the palm of his hand. When I said I wanted to see the stars, he would have every light outside the estate shut off, leaving the whole night sky just for me. Any emerald I glanced at twice at a private auction, he would win for me, no matter the competition, no matter the price. Back then, I believed, and so did everyone else, that I would walk into the Vitali family chapel in a wedding gown and become Lorenzo's wife. Until that dinner party. I accidentally cut Bianca Rossi's cheek with a shattered wine glass. And everything fell apart. Lorenzo didn't hear me out. He had his men take me down to the wine cellar beneath the estate. There were no windows, only damp stone walls, and an iron door as thick as a coffin lid. For three days I had no water, no food. When the pain made me shake, all I could do was curl up on the ground and claw at the cold cracks in the stone with my nails.

Three days ago, Julian Sinclair promised me to my face that he would propose to me tonight, at the family dinner. So when the ballroom doors swung open, every eye in the room turned to me, all of them already knowing why. Someone raised a glass, smiling like they already knew the secret. "Congratulations in advance, Donna." I stood there in the crowd, my fingertips trembling a little, waiting for Julian to come to me. But once he was inside, he walked right past me, straight up to Chloe Ross. And then, in front of everyone, he pinned the underboss's silver badge to her chest. "You did good work on the East Harbor cleanup." The room went still for a beat, and then the applause broke out. Chloe looked up at him, her eyes red, as if she'd finally been handed the place that was meant to be hers. I stood frozen, feeling my smile crack apart on my face, piece by piece. Only then did Julian seem to notice something, and he turned back to me. "Don't overthink it." "Tonight belongs to Chloe. Spoiling her moment with a proposal wouldn't be right." "At the next family dinner, I'll hand you the black ring in front of everyone." I looked at him and let out a soft laugh. Julian didn't know. There wasn't going to be a next time. My engagement banquet with the head of the Vaughn family was set for next week.

Two months before the public ceremony Lorenzo had promised would finally acknowledge me as his wife, he announced online that he was getting married. Everyone congratulated me. After seven years at his side, after I had helped him stabilize the Vassari family, crush three rebellions, and win enough votes to become the next Don, everyone assumed I was finally going to be his wife. So did I. Until I stopped outside a private room and heard his friends laughing. “Lorenzo, your Donna selection list is insane. Twelve women, one ring, and you score them every month?” Someone whistled. “Right now, it’s down to Serena and that little nightclub girl you keep in your penthouse, isn’t it?” “What if you don’t marry Serena after all this?” another man asked. “She gave you seven years. She might lose her mind.” Lorenzo laughed lazily. “Whoever performs best becomes my wife. Fair rule.” The room exploded with laughter. “Come on, you’re obviously favoring your little mistress. Serena can’t win if you keep giving that girl perfect scores.” Lorenzo’s voice turned playful, almost amused. “I gave Serena the chance. If she still loses, she can only blame herself.” I stood outside the door, my heart going cold. After a long silence, I took out my phone and called my father. “Dad, I agree to come home.” “I’ll accept the marriage alliance arranged by the Commission.”

On the third anniversary of my marriage to Leon Castellano, the most powerful mafia boss in Chicago, I waited for him alone all night in a cabin up on the snowy mountain. A blizzard had sealed off the mountain. The ice cream cake on the table melted down to nothing. I kept calling Leon, but his phone went unanswered. In the early hours, he finally called back, his voice rough with drink. "Sorry. Cecilia's back. I went to pick her up from the airport and forgo our anniversaryt." He left me stranded on that mountain all night. I walked down alone the next morning, and a ranger passing by picked me up in his truck. He didn't know that after that night, I took off my wedding ring. He didn't know that the woman who'd stolen my credit for saving his life was tearing our marriage apart, step by step. That day, Leon slammed the divorce papers down in front of me, his words dripping with disgust and scorn. "Who do you think you are, claiming the credit for Cecilia's kindness to me? She is the sole legitimate heir of the Rosse family, and you? You're nothing but a mistress's bastard! If you hadn't deceived me back then, I would never have missed out on all those years with her!" Something in me finally let go. I signed the papers, faked my death, and flew off into the Sicilian night without looking back. Three years later, I met him again as the princess of Europe's Moretti family. And then Leon was the one full of regret.

On Graduation night, the love of my life, Julian, took three stab wounds meant for me. Gang members dumped his body into the freezing waters of Lake Michigan. I gave up my spot at Columbia Law School and went on pilgrimages to churches across the country. I did penance for my sins. For ten whole years. Until a decade later, when the news broke that Julian was taking over as the Don of the Falcone family. I finally realized he wasn't dead. And the glamorous Donna standing beside him was my best friend, Scarlett. Back at his funeral, Scarlett had cried to me, "If you really feel guilty about Julian, drop out of school and walk to churches across the country to pray. It's the blood debt you owe him." Seeing her again now, her eyes were red as she played the victim. "I just loved him too much. When he lost his memory ten years ago... I had to take him for myself and lie to you that he died." Julian, the man who was supposed to love me more than life itself, shielded Scarlett behind his back. He looked at me like a total stranger. It turned out my last ten years were nothing but a joke. I had a heart attack and died in agony. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at Julian's ridiculous funeral. He asked me, "Who are you?" I replied calmly, "Just an ordinary friend you saved." This time, I was done with this love triangle. I wanted nothing to do with them. I was going to chase my dream, go to Columbia Law School, and claim the man I let slip away for ten years—Don Cassian. But later, when Julian finally got his memory back, he begged me like a madman to return.

The day after my sister broke up with her mafia boyfriend, she went off on vacation to clear her head. She swore she'd find a man even better than her ex, and she sent me a whole stack of profiles of good-looking guys. She wanted me to help her pick. I was about to tap the screen when Dante snatched the phone away, his brow furrowing as he let out a soft laugh. "You are my Donna! Don't pick up her bad habits." Before I could get a good look, Dante deleted every last photo. I explained, "She's not really like that. She was with that boyfriend for eight years, and he hurt her too deeply." "She kept him like a treasure. Even I never got to meet him." Dante raised an eyebrow and, a little stiffly, told me, "Tomorrow I'm going to Sicily to handle Family business. You be good and stay home." I nodded and agreed, waiting for him to return. My sister happened to get back from her own trip right around the time he did. The moment she walked in, she couldn't wait to tell me how her ex had come back to propose to her. I smiled and congratulated her. But when she took out the engagement ring, my heart skipped a beat. That morning, I'd just happened to find a matching men's wedding ring inside Dante's suit.

The annual Family dinner was in full swing, the clink of glasses and hum of conversation filling the air. Paige, never one for a kind word, stumbled over, a glass of wine in her hand, her breath reeking of cheap booze. "You know," she said, a sly, knowing grin on her face, "I used to be jealous as hell of you. He's a Capo. He runs a whole borough." "A lot of good that's done you, huh? Still stuck in the slums, where gunshots are your nightly lullaby." I heard the mockery in her voice. The list for the Family's secure compound was out, and once again, my name wasn't on it. I held my own glass, my voice steady. "They're Family rules. Not even Dean can break them. A Capo's wife still has to toe the line." She let out a sudden, sharp laugh. "Five years ago, when the first group moved, your name was at the very top of the list! Dean crossed it off himself. Five years in a row, all to build that pristine reputation of his..." Before she could finish, one of the dock enforcers nearby clamped his hand over her mouth. I glanced around the room. The men and women who had been flirting and laughing just moments before now avoided my gaze. Only Dean remained as he was, sitting ramrod straight, not a flicker of shame on his face. He held a half-smoked cigar between his teeth, his voice low and gravelly. "What she said is true. I approved the placements for the compound." "They're for the widows of our brothers who bled and died for this Family. They need a safe place more than you do." "Let others fight and claw for survival. You are my woman. A Capo's wife. You have to understand what it means to see the bigger picture." I smiled, but tears streamed down my face. So that was it. So, does our son have to be an orphan on paper, the child of a fallen hero, to finally get a private doctor and a safe home?

I was the daughter of a mafia Don. The day I met Ethan, he fell for me at first sight. When I found a receipt from a luxury boutique in his pocket, he said, "It's a gift for another capo's wife. These things have to be done right." I believed him. The second time, I found an earring in his car that wasn't mine. His friend told me it belonged to his girlfriend and that I shouldn't read too much into it. Then came a third time, and a fourth. Every time I found something, someone had an explanation ready. By the tenth time, I pulled a box of condoms from under the bed and waved it at him. "Whose are these? We've never used this brand." Ethan paused halfway through knotting his tie. With a weary sigh, he made a call. "Miller, did you take a box of condoms the last time you stayed over?" On the other end, my brother answered right away. "Yeah, I was wondering where those went. Sorry about that. Is my sister suspicious of you again?" Then my sister-in-law, who was also my best friend, started lecturing me. "Michelle, trust is the foundation of any relationship. You can't keep doubting Ethan." "If you can't manage that, then don't get married. Don't take Ethan's love for granted." After the call ended, Ethan spread his hands. "Michelle, are we done here? This is the tenth time. Like your sister-in-law said, if you can't trust me, then don't—" I nodded. "Exactly. Let's not get married." Ethan never could have guessed that the condoms weren't anyone else's. I had bought them myself and planted them there on purpose. That single box of condoms exposed the ugly truth behind our so-called love.

I'm the heiress of the Corleone family, with three childhood sweethearts who used to adore me and watch over me like I was their whole world. Then Daisy Washington, the little maid, showed up—and suddenly I didn't exist anymore. But my father, the don, didn't know. So at the family victory gala, right in the middle of the toast, my father said, "Freya, tell me, who's the one? Point him out, and we'll get you engaged tonight. Right here, right now." The whole room went quiet. Every pair of eyes swung to my three so-called protectors: Nico Gibson, Arlo Mcdonald, and Rhett Owens. But they acted like they hadn't heard a thing. One was feeding Daisy from his fork. One was whispering something that made her giggle. And the third just watched her with that soft, doting look I used to get. The room went dead silent. My father's face stiffened. I quickly jumped in, "Dad, my boyfriend's overseas. I'll bring him to meet you when he's back." The three of them snorted, shooting me mocking looks. I knew they didn't believe me. They thought I was just saving face. But I actually did have a boyfriend.

On my wedding day,I rode to the church in a prison transport van. I'm the future Godmother of the family. But his little side piece whined that she "wanted to know what marriage feels like." So,my future husband tossed me aside without a second thought. He let her wear my custom bridal gown. She took my bouquet,got into my getaway car,and drove off. Ever since we started planning this wedding,I've been a shadow. Just because that bitch claims she's "anti-marriage." She wanted a taste of a happy ending she'll never get. The wedding photos,the dress fitting—my fiancé put her first every single time. And now,she's hijacking my own damn wedding. I just laughed. It's pathetic. If she wants him that bad,she can have him. I don't do sloppy seconds.

I’d been with Hurley, the heir to the Crescent Claw pack, for seven years. He’d insisted on throwing me a huge birthday party. But on the day of the party, Hurley gave the million-dollar custom gown my mother had commissioned for me to his childhood friend, Rachel. He said it so casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Rachel’s dress got ruined, and we couldn’t find a replacement in time. You two are about the same size, so I just let her borrow it.” “I remember you have a few backup dresses, right? Why don’t you just wear one of those tonight?” I thought back on the past seven years, and how this wasn't the first time he'd put me second for Rachel. For one of my birthdays, he gave me a cheap necklace from a street stall but bought Rachel a ruby necklace at a high-end auction. His excuse? “You’re an Alpha’s daughter; you already have everything. Rachel’s different.” When I was sick with a fever and needed him, he was busy comforting Rachel because she was afraid of the dark. He’d told me, “Rachel’s fragile and timid. She needs me more.” It happened over and over again. This time, I was finally done. The borrowed dress and the unfaithful man—I wanted neither.