Bias Mafia Short Stories & Face Slapping Novels

As the only daughter and sole heir of the Romano family, I was born into a world of blood and gunfire. To protect me, my father handpicked nine boys from our allied families and raised them to take a bullet for me When I came of age, he told me to choose one of them as my fiancé. The man I chose would be groomed to become the future Don and rule beside me. I chose Luca De Santis, the man I had loved for years. But on our wedding day, his childhood sweetheart, Bianca Ricci, threw herself into the sea. In the suicide note she left behind, she accused me of tormenting her for years. Luca believed every word. After he became Don, he used the power my family had placed in his hands to imprison me while I was pregnant. I told him that every accusation in Bianca's letter was a lie. He refused to listen. "She's already dead, and you still can't leave her alone?" Then he locked me in the estate basement for four days and four nights. On the fourth night, I lost our baby on the basement floor. I screamed for help until I had no strength left. No one came. I bled to death alone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my father's study on the day he asked me to choose my future husband. This time, Luca De Santis was the first name I crossed off the list.

I woke in the middle of the night to my Don husband murmuring in his sleep. “Juno, be good. Tomorrow I’ll buy you and Mamma a new house.” My eyes flew open. Juno? That was the name I’d always planned for a purebred Ceylon cat I dreamed of owning, but I’d never gotten one because of my pet fur allergy. And a new house? Could this just be a coincidence? I shook him lightly. “What did you just say?” He frowned and mumbled coarsely, “Had a nightmare. Dreamt of a shootout.” I didn’t press further. In the darkness, I reached for his phone and silently opened his messages.

I was the Castell family's designated heir in Rosewick, Delmaris, and my older sister Sabrina had been adopted into the family. So she was overprotective of me. She reminded me constantly, "Avery, you're the family's only heir. It's not safe for you to be out in public." Even my dates with Julian Vescari, the Don of the most powerful family in Rosewick, were things she attended in my place. When the grapes ripened at the estate, Sabrina said the crowds made it unsafe. So she went with Julian to pick grapes instead of me. At family banquets, she said there were too many cameras and it made an assassination too easy. So she linked arms with Julian and gave the speeches in my place. Every time she came back, Sabrina told me gently, "As long as I'm standing in front of you, you can inherit everything safely." I always believed she did it for my sake. Until the day before my engagement to Julian. Sabrina was sitting in the dressing room in the gown I'd had made for myself. As I passed the doorway, I happened to see Julian feed her a peeled grape. Sabrina complained sweetly, "I run around handling everything for the two of you and never get a moment to myself, and one grape is supposed to settle it?" Julian answered easily, "You've worked hard. Ask me for anything you want." Sabrina looked him up and down, and then she smiled. The intimacy between them froze me where I stood and sent a sharp pain through my chest. In that moment I finally understood. This boundary-crossing game they called protection had to end.

My family is part of New York's Mafia, and we live by one rule: anyone still unmarried at 30 must accept a match arranged by the family. When I told my boyfriend of ten years, Klaus Brenner, about the rule, he finally agreed to a public engagement. I thought the man who had once taken a beating to protect me was about to become my husband. I thought my life was in my own hands at last. But when it was time for us to kiss at the engagement party, everything changed. In front of every guest, Klaus pulled Linda Moreau, the new designer, into his arms and kissed her without hesitation. Linda blushed bright red. The room erupted. "What kind of backward family in New York still arranges marriages? What century are we in?" He sneered. "Rebecca, I'll marry you someday. But not now, and certainly not because you cornered me into it." I stared at the smug look on his face and felt the last of my love turn cold. I slid the ring off my finger and tossed it to Linda. "Keep it. I don't want him anymore. He's all yours." What he didn't know was that the so-called old rule came from Vittorio Rota, the most ruthless of the five Dons who led New York's Mafia families. And the man I was being forced to marry was Ian Castellano, the heir apparent to New York's underworld.

I got pregnant by Alessio Moretti—my brother's best friend, and the youngest, most handsome Don in New York. Then his old flame, Bianca, the one who ghosted him, came back. I thought he’d drop me for her. But he just smirked. "She left without a word. There's no going back." My brother, Gianni, was even colder. "She's not a Ricci anymore. My only sister is you." I believed them. For three years, they'd shown me a warmth and love I'd never known. Then a video of my drunk foster father beating me went viral. The world mocked the noble Ricci princess, once tortured like a beggar. I shattered. I ran to find the only two men I trusted. But I stopped cold at their study door, frozen by Bianca's sickly sweet voice. "Gianni, Alessio... leaking that video? Wasn't it too cruel? Marcella's pregnant." My brother's reply was instant. "That's the point. Pregnancy is supposed to soften her. But she's been running around like she owns the place, keeping you out." Alessio just laughed. "Don't worry about Marcella. She can't touch us. And she's too soft-hearted to ever hurt our child." Tears streamed down my face. A sharp pain shot through my heart. He's right. The baby is my treasure. I'd never hurt him. But Alessio... I won't let you control me. I walked away, numb. I booked a flight. I will slip through their fingers, take my baby, and disappear from their world forever.

Before our wedding, my fiancé, Carlo Vitale—the youngest Don on the East Coast—held a church ceremony with my stepsister. He said, "According to Mafia rules, only the woman who completes the wedding ceremony with me and receives the blessing of all the family is my true wife. "So even if your sister Elena is carrying my child, she's nothing more than a mistress." After the priest's blessing, they exchanged rings. I stood outside the church, watching through a curtain of rain as he kissed another woman. My face was white. I had loved Carlo for twelve years, from the ages of sixteen to twenty-eight. However, he had only ever had my stepsister, Sophia, not me, in his heart. I chose to let him go. Later, I left for Europe. All I left Carlo was a notice of our broken engagement and a parting gift. For some reason, the man who had always treated me with indifference seemed to have aged ten years overnight.

I was on vacation with my mother at our country vineyard when a message arrived from Ava, my husband's personal secretary. He was the new Don of the Falcone family. The photo showed a woman, bruised and naked, curled up on the floor of a cold cellar. It was followed by a voice message, her tone arrogant: "Helen, is this what you peasants do? Claw your way out of the mud just to leech off the Don?" "Don Lorenzo just acquired this estate, and you have the nerve to let your blind, ill-mannered mother wander in here to freeload? As the Don's personal secretary, it's my job to uphold the Falcone family's dignity." "This is the price for trespassing on the Don's estate!" I froze, my eyes lifting to the other side of the long table where my mother was sipping her red wine, perfectly safe. I zoomed in on the photo. The moment I saw the details, my heart seized. On a pale hand was a familiar ring. It was the heirloom the Falcone Madre never took off. I immediately dialed Ava's number. "Ava, are you insane? That's Lorenzo's mother!" A careless, almost flirtatious laugh came from the other end of the line. "The Don may consider you his property, but he never agreed to take in your dirt-poor family."

After I had stood by Don Theo Vitale through the hardest seven years of his life, he asked me for a divorce on our anniversary. He wanted me to step aside for the daughter of one of the Five Families. “Caterina and I grew up together. Our backgrounds are a better match, too. You’ve killed too many people. Keeping you as my Donna is too dangerous.” “Here’s twenty million dollars. Leave New York.” Before we married, I had used my beauty countless times to get close to the men he wanted dead. Until his position as Don was secure. He used to tell me that every person I killed brought us closer to having a warm, loving home. We had been married for barely three years, and there was already no room for me in that home. My eyes filled with tears. He grew impatient. “Enough. You’ve used those tears on me too many times. I’ll throw in a seaside villa. Will that do?” A single tear slipped down my cheek. “…You can have the Rolls-Royce Phantom, too.” Now tears streamed down both cheeks. I simply couldn’t stop them. “Enough already! What else do you want?” If I couldn’t have love, money would do. I wanted everything the Vitale family owned.

I was eight months pregnant when I slipped in the bathroom. I lay bleeding on the floor, unable to move. My Apple Watch sent a fall alert to my husband, Gabriel, the mafia don. I waited on the cold tiles for forty minutes. He never came. A maid bringing my dinner heard me calling for help. She called the guards, who broke down the door and rushed me to the hospital. When Gabriel arrived, he held my hand. “I’m sorry, Nora. I won’t let this happen to you or our baby again. I promise.” After I came home, he replaced the tiles in every bathroom so I wouldn’t slip again. Everyone said he loved me more than anything. But we both knew where he’d been during those forty minutes. He was at his late brother’s wife Celeste’s house, taking care of her son, Aaron. Before I fell, he’d sent me a text. “Aaron fell. I need to go check on him.” When my alert came through, he tapped to confirm he’d seen it. Then he went back to cleaning his nephew’s scraped knee. He thought I’d forgive him like I always did. A month later, he was about to name Aaron his heir until our son was old enough to take over. He sent the butler to bring us down for the announcement. The butler returned with divorce papers. “Don, I’m afraid Donna has already left for Zurich.”

Everyone says Matteo only married me out of debt. My father took a bullet for him. Four years into our marriage, my separation anxiety hit an all-time high. As the Don, he never snapped. He canceled big meetings. He stayed every single time panic set in. At my worst, I held onto his arm all night. Even when it went numb, he never pulled back. He put up with it all. The late-night location checks. Going through his phone. He stayed until I thought we were solid. I thought it was love. Then the floating words started appearing. His soft chuckle and sweet "You're impossible" actually came with this: [When is this nightmare over?] His gentle "My girl is the prettiest" really meant: [God, she's so full of herself.] That was my wake-up call. His patience was never love. It was just a cold obligation. If I'm just a burden he tolerates, I'm out.

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?"

Six years ago, my sister and I fell for the same man, Edmund. But he only had eyes for Rosalie, the sweet, innocent type. With them, I was always the third wheel. They got married, of course. And on their wedding day, I overheard my parents whispering. "The company's strapped for cash," my father said. "What if we marry Corinne off to our business partner? That'd solve our problem..." This "partner" was over fifty and twice divorced. So I ran. I fled to Sicily with the only five thousand dollars to my name. I ran on pure bitterness. In four years, I brought dozens of small-time Sicilian crews to heel and forged my own family: Vexille. In another two, I came back to New York and quietly became the most powerful woman in the North American underworld. By then, Edmund's power was crumbling, hit hard by a rival family. That's when my mother called, her voice full of that same old entitlement. "Your brother-in-law's in some trouble. Figure out a way to help him." Then a text from my sister, Rosalie, dripping with contempt: "Sister, I remember you have a little casino in Sicily, right? So you must know something about that Vexille family." "Edmund needs their help. See what you can dig up." They still don't know. I'm the Don of the Vexille family. I glanced at the schedule my advisor had prepared. Tomorrow, 9:00 AM. A sit-down with some minor family looking for a handout. The name on the file: Edmund.

On the day my fiancé, Raphael Moretti, and I were supposed to get our marriage license at city hall, I dressed with care. But by noon, he still hadn't shown up. Aurelia De Luca video-called me. "Sofia, where are you? Raphael's been waiting for you all day." Panic hit me. "Weren't we signing in Palermo?" Aurelia frowned. "It's Taormina, Sofia. Everyone's been waiting for a long time." I drove straight to Taormina. When I arrived, no one was there. When the video connected, Aurelia was crouched on the ground, laughing hard. "Sofia, don't tell me you actually went. We're already on Lipari. Raphael's setting up the wedding venue to surprise you." I left my car at the port and took a boat to Lipari. The water was rough. I threw up the whole way, and my makeup ran down my face. But when I arrived, no one answered my calls. I waited alone outside city hall until it closed, not knowing what else to do. Aurelia suddenly appeared behind me in a straw hat and smacked me hard on the back. "You really chased us all the way here? The underboss and Raphael only came to keep me company on vacation." I spun around with a yelp. My heel caught on the step, and I fell. Raphael stood there holding Aurelia's shopping bags and purse. "Didn't we agree to get our marriage license after the trip? You couldn't wait? You had to chase us all the way here?" My uncle, Vincenzo Ferraro, saw my pale face and frowned. "Lia is the cheerful one. You've been timid since you were a child. How are you ever going to take over the family?" Seeing Aurelia's smug smile, I didn't even feel like confronting her anymore. I wasn't angry. I wasn't sad. I just wanted to escape a home that had never felt like mine. I only had to stay away from the people and places that made me miserable. For good.

This was the sixth time Dante Falcone had slammed that damned divorce agreement down in front of me, forcing me to sign. This time, I did not resist. He set down the pen. In that instant, a suffocating silence filled the room. His deep brown eyes locked onto me, sharp and probing, as if he were trying to see straight through my soul. "Why so obedient this time, Sofia? Or are you planning another trick? Don't forget who you are. Mrs. Falcone." I removed the ruby ring that symbolized the mistress of the family, the one he had placed on my finger when he proposed to me in Sicily. I set it gently on the desk, a surface stained with both blood and money. My voice was calm, lifeless. "No, Dante. I'm just... tired. Your world is too loud."

Two years ago, I was the Donna of the Costa family. When I was on my way to attend the family meeting, I was killed by my husband's childhood sweetheart, Isabella Rossi. She shattered my limbs and smashed my belly before throwing me into an abandoned mine pit. It was such a shame that I was pregnant with the heir Matteo Costa had been waiting for the past five years when I died. Not only did Isabella frame me for working with the enemy forces, but she also broke her own legs and claimed that she got hurt from stopping me. Matteo publicly announced that he decided to sever all ties with me. He also placed a bounty on my head. Just like that, I fell from my position as the Costa family's Donna to a traitor who was wanted by all. Two years later, the mine pit collapsed on itself. That was when the workers dug out my rotten corpse.

The Moretti family had an old tradition. Whenever a new Don took over, he raised his first glass to the person he was most grateful to. When Damian Moretti became Don, everyone assumed that first glass would be mine. When he was at his lowest, I married him, bringing with me two of my family's shipping routes and 200 million dollars in cash. I was the one who made him Don. But Damian raised his glass and said softly, "The person I'm most grateful to is Rosie Carter." The whole room broke into an uproar. She was a member of the Moretti family I'd never even noticed before. Beaming with excitement, she took the glass from Damian and punched him playfully on the shoulder. "Don't get all sappy on me. We're practically brothers. We've even shared a bed." Awkward laughter rippled around the room. Damian didn't laugh. "Ten years ago, I was badly wounded and on the run. Rosie hid me in the safe house beneath the nightclub. "We slept in the same bed in that cramped little room for four months. "But without her, I wouldn't have survived." Rosie tipped back her head and drained the glass that should have been mine. Every eye in the room turned to me, waiting to see how the Bellini family's heir would handle it. I removed the brooch symbolizing the alliance between our two families, set it on the table, and texted my father. "Withdraw our votes for Damian." "Starting tonight, Don Moretti can fend for himself."

For five years, Julian and I had been a secret. We had our own hidden apartment where, night after night, he could not get enough of me, leaving his insanely possessive marks all over my body. Tonight was no different. But the difference today was that before I could even catch my breath, he suddenly asked for the number of Essa, my family's gorgeous maid. "Darling, don't you think it is too boring to stick to just one woman for the rest of your life?" "She has a killer body. I do not want to give up all the thrills out there just for you." I stared into his eyes for a few seconds, then pushed his hand off my chest. I gave a calm nod. Later, when someone asked me who I was into, I casually dropped the name of my sworn enemy: Kian, the heir to the Santoro family. Julian's face instantly darkened, but I could not care less. However, I ended up bringing unexpected trouble to my doorstep. Kian blocked my doorway, a smirk playing on his lips as he asked, "Didn't you say you were into me?" "What a coincidence. I am into you, too."

The annual Vittorio family gala was in full swing when my brother, Don Marco Vittorio, decided to host a card game. The stakes were simple: the winner could make one demand of him. Everyone knew I had been brought back to the Vittorio estate three years ago but still hadn't been formally acknowledged as family. They stepped aside, murmuring that this was Marco's way of giving me a chance—a test I might finally pass. Only Gianna, the family's adopted princess, made sure I had none. She counted off her boasts on her fingers. "Marco gives me a black card with a fifty-thousand-euro monthly limit." "He bid on a lighthouse in the Bay of Naples for me." "I give the family toast at New Year's Mass." "My name is on the trust." Four statements. I had one card left. She smiled and delivered the killing blow: "This whole game? Marco threw it just to cheer me up." My heart sank. I looked at my brother. He smiled indulgently—that same smile he'd worn for three years, always taking her side, always asking me to wait. I folded. I laid down my last card. And suddenly, I didn't want to go home that badly anymore. I didn't need the Vittorio name. I was done.

On the night I married the most powerful mafia boss in New York, he held me close and whispered, "My life is full of blood and violence. To keep you safe, let's keep our marriage a secret, okay?" I was so touched that I nodded. From then on, my husband hid my identity from the world. Down in the streets, nobody in the mob had any idea I was the Don's wife. I never thought his sick "protection" meant cutting me off completely. Four months pregnant and dead broke, I took a low-life gig dealing at an underground casino. That night, pushing a drink cart past the VIP suite, I caught my terrifying mafia husband, Marcello, partying hard with his inner circle. He was lounging lazily on the velvet sofa, casually asking his second-in-command, "I wire half a million dollars to my wife's account every month. Is that still not enough for her to burn through?" The underboss nearly dropped his glass. "Half a million isn't enough? Boss, is she out of her mind? That's a whole year of living expenses for most people!" Marcello's eyes darkened. "She said she was short on cash last night, so I transferred another two hundred thousand right away." "And this morning, she had the nerve to threaten me with a divorce. She said I couldn't afford the life she wants." Standing outside the door, staring at the pathetic $150 balance on my phone, I shook with rage and kicked the suite door wide open. I planted a hard slap right across the ruthless New York mafia boss's face. "Tell me! How many bitches are you actually paying for on the side?!" Marcello frowned. "I have only ever touched you in my life!" I froze completely in my tracks. If he's telling the truth... why is my monthly allowance only a pathetic 150 bucks?

For three years, I used my family's mob ties and my own money to pave the way for Declan's crew. He was the boy I survived the streets with as a kid. But at this month's sit-down, his newly hired secretary, Roxy, tossed my casino ledgers and club records onto the table in front of all the guys. She accused me of skimming profits and slacking off. "These underground banks, these smuggling docks," she read the numbers out loud, her voice full of fake outrage. "Every time she bribes someone, she skims thousands of dollars! She's lining her own pockets." "I say the Boss strips her of her club manager title right now to save our cash flow." I glanced at Declan, the boss of the crew. He knew better than anyone what that missing money actually paid for. He knew how much dock security it covered. He knew how many nods of approval it bought from politicians and cops. He also knew what I was doing when I wasn't at the club. I was making deals with dangerous gun runners. I was drinking hard liquor to secure guns and ammo for his boys. But he just stared at me coldly. "Katerina, do you have anything to say about these ledgers and the proof Roxy just showed us?" I smiled. "I have nothing to explain." Very soon, all of them would find out exactly what happens when you pull a stunt like this on a Principessa's turf.