Tragic Love Mafia Short Stories & Bias Face Slapping Novels

For five years, I was married to the heir of the Romano family, Italy's biggest crime family. Every night, he'd hold me and whisper, "Just give me an heir, and I'll give him the entire Romano empire." But I never got pregnant, and the Don's disappointment in me grew with every passing month. Until I found out my husband had been secretly swapping my folic acid for birth control pills. I was still reeling from the fury when I saw a post from his ex-girlfriend: an ultrasound photo. Her caption was sweet and smug: “Ten weeks along. Vincent said he can’t wait to meet the baby.” Seeing the flood of congratulations, my mind was made up. I found the contact info for my ex-boyfriend—the one who’d spent the last five years trying to get me back. I sent him a single text. 【Give me one month. Then I’m coming with you.】

My adoptive brother, Don Cassian. I loved him. The rival family drugged him. He had me pinned down. His hands on my breasts. He was hard, his eyes filled with a desperate hunger for me. But I shoved him off. Ran out the door. And called my best friend, Camilla. "Cassian's in the master bedroom. Get here. Now." I locked myself in the bathroom, letting the cold water wash away the fire he’d started in me. I remembered the last time. In my past life, when Cassian kissed me, I didn't say no. We made love all night. I thought my ten-year crush was finally mine. Then came St. Patrick's Cathedral. The Vitelli family's sapphire ring, passed down for three generations. The blessing of the Elders. I had everything I ever wanted. But the day after the wedding, I got the news. My best friend, Camilla, was dead. An overdose of antidepressants in her apartment. I was on the phone, crying for her, when a knife went through my chest from behind. I turned. It was Cassian, his face twisted with hate. "If you hadn't blackmailed me with those ledgers—if you hadn't forced your way into my bed—Camilla would still be alive. You have to pay for this!" That's when I understood. He never married me for love. It was all because of a whisper from Camilla: "Aurora controls the family's money. She can ruin you with a phone call." And a warning from the Elders: "Don, you must marry her. She knows too much." So this time, I stepped aside. I let them have each other. But why? Why did he come after me, his eyes red, looking like he'd lost his mind? "Aurora," he begged. "Why don't you love me anymore?"

It took me three years to thaw the frozen heart of Theo, the Mafia's top surgeon, just to marry him. To be his wife, I shut down my documentary studio and locked my Best Director trophy from the independent film festival inside a drawer. I was willing to put away my camera and stay in the shadows as the woman behind the Family's chief surgeon. After he said having a kid in this business was a death sentence, I went to a clinic the very next day and got an IUD. Everyone in our circle was absolutely certain that we would be the perfect power couple. But today, on our fifth wedding anniversary, I decided to get a divorce. My lawyer was my best friend, Jade. She twirled her pen before stopping. "Are you out of your mind? You threw away the title of North America's best independent director for him back then, and now you are telling me you want a divorce?" I swallowed the bitter ache in my chest. "Just draft the divorce papers for me. As soon as possible." She frowned. "But why, Harper?" I looked at the black velvet gift box on the dining table. Inside lay a carefully preserved peony. After a long hesitation, I gave her my answer. "Because of a flower."

I had broken up with Lorenzo five times, and Gianna had always been the reason. Lorenzo had used our wedding fund to buy Gianna a penthouse in Tribeca. Each time I made up my mind to leave him, he would break down in tears and beg for another chance, promising that it would never happen again. Staring into his love-struck eyes, I always gave him another chance. Today was the day I would pick out my wedding dress and set our wedding date. I waited in the bridal shop from noon until dark, but Lorenzo was nowhere to be found. At ten that night, his friend, Marco, called me. “Naomi, Lorenzo’s in the emergency room. Come quickly–” I cut him off. “Is it because of Gianna again?” Marco stammered an explanation, but exhaustion washed over me. I closed my eyes before uttering in a flat tone, “I won’t be there. Tell him that it’s over between us.”

After I gave myself the last dose of painkiller, I stood outside the hotel all afternoon in the vintage couture gown Lucian had chosen for me himself. The black Bentley motorcade that was supposed to come for the bride never arrived. What I heard instead was the chatter of people passing by. "Did you hear? The youngest Don in New York is getting married. He and the bride have been together ten years." That stopped me, because Lucian and I had only been together seven. "They say he bought a blue diamond, the only one of its kind in the world, just to set it in her ring. He's proposing at the church today." The moment I pushed open the church doors, Lucian looked straight at me. "Cassie, I knew you'd come. Ten years ago you lost Elena, the true blood of this Family, and left her to be ground down at the bottom of the world. You had the safety and glory of the Family name while she endured ten years of hell. I let you believe in that engagement for exactly this day. I want you to feel what it's like to be thrown away by everyone." Three people I knew better than anyone sat in the front pew. Marcus spoke first. "You took the life that was supposed to be Elena's. She's back, so it goes back to her. You owe her that." My heart felt like a cold gun barrel was pressed against it. I couldn't get air. Nobody knew that a month ago I had been diagnosed with end-stage neurological failure, and that I had one day left. For my last hours all I had wanted was to hold the hand of the man I loved, with my family around me. I walked out of the church calmly and dropped the keepsake he had given me into a trash can. But now I'd changed my mind. I wasn't going to spend my last day intruding on any of them.

The day I found out I was pregnant, Mia Bell—my husband Julian Moretti's personal secretary—posted on Instagram. "Boss, thank you for taking such good care of me. Who says you can't be pregnant and still get spoiled?" In the photo, Mia wore nothing but lace underwear and leaned against a man's chest as she took a selfie. His hand rested on the smooth curve of her belly. On his ring finger was the Don's signet ring—one I would have recognized anywhere. I left a one-word comment: "Congratulations." Seconds later, Mia called me in a panic to apologize. She claimed she'd only posted the photo to provoke her boyfriend after a fight. Julian Moretti took the phone from her and said in a low voice, "Vivian, delete the comment. You know why she's by my side. She took a bullet for you. The least you can do is not make her feel like it was all for nothing." I held the pregnancy report and opened my mouth to speak, but the call ended before I could say a word. Five minutes later, Mia posted again. "One big protector on the outside and one little protector on the inside. Life is perfect." Julian liked the post. I slipped off my wedding ring and tossed it into the grass beside the road. Then I tucked my latest prenatal report into the bottom of my bag.

My mother, Vivienne Freeman, was the Donna of Freeman Family. She had her senior engineers develop an advanced lie detector. It looked like a bracelet, and my sister and I each wore one. Whenever I lied, my band flashed red. It could supposedly catch me even when I merely thought about lying. From then on, the band seemed able to read my mind. Even when I kept my mouth shut, it still flashed red. Then Mom would find some way to punish me. I told her countless times that I had never lied, but she refused to believe me. She would not let me question technology she had personally approved. Pointing to my sister's dark band, she demanded to know why it never flashed and why I never told the truth. The day the Family caught a traitor, Mom took my sister and me to watch his execution. A gunshot rang out, and blood spread across the ground. The sight of it made me feel faint, so I begged Mom to let me leave. My band flashed red. My sister picked up a gun and smiled at me. "Mom, Sophie's band is flashing again. She must be figuring out how to deceive you!" Mom glared at me and forced the gun into my hand. "You're the Don's daughter, yet you're a coward, you're frail, and you lie. You don't deserve to be my daughter. Take the gun and shoot him!" The blood made it hard to breathe. My heart raced, strength drained from my body, and I began to suffocate. Even as I started to collapse, Mom kept accusing me of being a coward compared with my sister and a shameless liar. The world spun. Tears ran down my face as pain racked my body. Mom, I never once lied to you, not aloud and not in my thoughts. I never will.

To restore my crush's right to inherit his mafia family, I gave him one of my corneas. But when he regained his sight, my family chose to have my older sister marry him instead of me. In my past life, I tried to find him and explain everything, but he rejected me. My own family exiled me, and I died on the night of wedding between him and my sister. Then I'm reborn—back before I was exiled . This time, I choose to leave my Mafia pack and my crush willingly.. But that cold, heartless Mafia Boss? He completely fell apart.

Whenever my brother, Matteo Moretti, screwed up, I was the one who got hurt. Because he was the future Don of the Moretti family. My father, Vittorio Moretti, couldn't bring himself to punish the heir he'd so carefully groomed. So he used my pain to shape him. The first time my brother dipped into the family's money without permission, my father froze my accounts and dumped me alone on the roughest stretch of the Palermo docks. I couldn't pay the protection money, and I was nearly dragged into a warehouse and sexually assaulted. In the end, I only got out of there safely by handing over every piece of jewelry I was wearing. The first time my brother let a traitor go, my father had me locked in a basement with that same traitor. By the time my brother got there, the traitor had broken two of my ribs. But all my father could see was my brother. "Take a good look. Going soft will get your family killed." The year I turned 22, my brother was finally about to take over the family. My father said this would be his last lesson. He staged a fake kidnapping with me as the hostage to teach my brother how to negotiate and make hard choices. But the third time I called begging for help, he was still sitting at the Moretti estate with a drink in his hand. "What's the rush? She'll be fine." Even when gunshots came over the line, my father still had no idea. The people who took me weren't his men. Dad. This time, my brother's last lesson cost me my life. Are you happy now?

The day before the holiday, I gave the household staff the week off. Agnes was still in the kitchen before she left, packing desserts into a bag while talking to herself with a smile. "Miss Vanessa finally got what she wanted this time. Mr. Moretti even booked that seaside villa in Amalfi." I was texting Vanessa, asking her to come over later to try on the bridesmaid dress. Without thinking much of it, I asked, "Got what?" "The wedding," Agnes said naturally. "Isn't Mr. Moretti taking Miss Vanessa to Italy?" My fingers froze above the screen. Two seconds passed before I looked up at her. "Whose wedding?" The smile on Agnes's face slowly froze. She looked at me as if she had only just realized something was wrong. "You... didn't know?" For a moment, I almost laughed at how absurd it sounded. "Agnes, Luca and I signed the family marriage registry three years ago. Next week is only supposed to be the ceremony." The kitchen fell silent. Agnes opened her mouth, embarrassment spreading across her face. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I thought you knew." She hesitated, then lowered her voice. "A while ago, when I was cleaning the study, I heard Mr. Moretti mention it to his lawyer. He said the marriage registry in your hands was never officially submitted to the family council." My heart sank. Three years ago, Luca had handed that document to me himself. He said the Moretti family was unstable, that we could not announce the marriage yet. Once he entered the inner circle of the Five Families, he would hold a proper wedding. So for all these years, I never pushed him. I even turned against the Castellano family for him. Thinking back now, maybe he had never planned to truly let me through the doors of the Moretti family in the first place.

Two powerful Mafia families controlled Sicily: the Moretti family and the Vincenti family. To survive here, you had to swear loyalty to one side. Three years ago, Luca Romano of the Moretti family was being hunted by his enemies. I hid him, badly wounded, in my wine cellar. That was the only reason he survived. Later, he proposed to me. But on the eve of our wedding, just as the two families were preparing for peace talks, the police set up an ambush at the meeting place. Only a handful of insiders knew the new address, and all the evidence pointed to Sofia Greco, Luca's childhood friend. But Luca burned the evidence and named me as the suspect instead. "You want me to die in her place?" He wouldn't meet my eyes. "Sofia's father controls the Moretti family's weapons and money. Nothing can happen to her right now. "You've spent your whole life on the farm. You've never been involved in family business. They won't find anything. In a few days, I'll bring you home." Everyone around him acted as if it were perfectly reasonable. "Without Luca, you're just a woman who runs a farm. "If anything happens to Sofia, his whole crew goes down with her. If you're going to marry him, you can take the fall for him this once." In the end, Luca shackled me himself and delivered me to the two families for trial. Everyone was waiting for me to confess. But at the far end of the long table, Don Lorenzo Moretti and Donna Isabella Vincenti—the heads of the two families—rose the moment they saw my face. No one in Sicily knew that the two of them, bitter enemies for more than 20 years, had once been in love. And I was the daughter they'd kept hidden for years.

I was the proud, untamed rose of the Ferrari family. Every man around me longed to tame me. Only Lorenzo Ricci ever said, "My dear Giulia, you can run as wild as you please." His sincerity moved me, and for the first time, I sought him out. But before I could knock on his door, I heard Lorenzo's tender voice from inside. "Elsa, you promised that if I could put up with that rude, heartless Giulia for three years, you'd believe I truly didn't care that you were born out of wedlock." "The three years are up. Why won't you accept me?" A woman's sobbing voice answered, delicate and fragile. "She's so beautiful. You've probably already fallen for her. But if you dump her in front of everyone at her birthday party, I'll be with you." Lorenzo agreed. My heart clenched in pain. I despised nothing more than betrayal and deception. And Lorenzo's true love turned out to be my father's illegitimate daughter! I didn't barge in. Instead, I stepped outside and called Dante Gallo, the Gallo family heir. "Dante, I accept your marriage proposal. I'll give you three of my family's overseas luxury trade routes and half the mining rights to our South American diamond mines. That should help you crush the Riccis' market share. "I only have one condition. You must propose to me at my birthday party three days from now." Dante agreed without hesitation. I let out a long breath. Lorenzo wanted to humiliate me. I would pay him back tenfold.

One week before our wedding, my fiancé, my father’s own consigliere, sold him out.He set him up for a FBI raid. My father died in a pool of blood, his eyes wide open, and the once-great Moretti family collapsed overnight. In my darkest hour, Dominic, the Don of the New York Luciani family, showed up with a crew of mercenaries. He didn't just take care of the rat; he gave me total protection. He obsessed over me for three years, even tattooing my name over his heart. I fell for it. I believed he loved me. I let my guard down and stayed by his side, serving as the lead perfumer for the coldest man in the city. Until today. Outside the wine cellar, I overheard him talking to his rival. "Old man Moretti died never knowing who had leaked his location," Dominic said. "But imagine if that stupid woman, Elena, found out," the rival mocked. "If she knew the man who killed her father was the same husband kissing her forehead every night... would she lose her mind?" My hand froze on the cellar door. The rival’s laughter came through the cracks: "You’re cold-blooded, Dominic! Elena thinks you’re her savior. She even wants to give you an heir. She’d never dream the raid that destroyed her life was actually your offering to Sienna."

In the Santoro family, there was one rule: the heir marries a daughter from another powerful Family. But Alessio Santoro was crazy. He wanted to marry me, a nobody from a flower shop. He knelt in the family chapel for ten days straight. He even took a bullet fired by his own father, the Don. All just to walk away from his title and run away with me. I held him, crying, begging him to stop. He just smiled and kissed my eyes, wiping my tears. "Don't cry, Thea. As long as I can marry you, it's all worth it." In the end, the Santoros relented. But they had one condition: Alessio would still produce the next heir. Just not with me. He had to have a son with Aurelia Rossi. So I endured. I endured listening to them through the wall, night after agonizing night. I endured the smell of her perfume on his skin, the sight of her marks on his neck every time he kissed me. A year later, Aurelia got pregnant. It was a girl. Alessio begged me, his eyes red. "Just a little longer, Thea." So I waited another year. Finally, news came. Aurelia was pregnant with a boy. I thought we could finally leave, finally be free. But then disaster struck. Aurelia’s daughter had a sudden, violent allergic reaction. Everyone blamed me. They threw me in the cellar and left me to die. And Alessio? He believed them. This time, I was the one who gave up. I walked away from everything.

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.

On the night of our ninth wedding anniversary, my husband—Damian Grant, the man who ruled the mafia by day and once ruled my heart by night—did not bring me roses. He gave the bouquet that should have been mine to Serena Lane, his personal assistant. Beneath the chandelier where we once danced on our wedding night, he turned to me with that same cold charm he once used to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. “She's pregnant.” Finally, everything fell into place. “She's a picky eater. From today onward, you’ll cook three meals a day for her. And no repeats. “She’s sensitive and hates sleeping alone, so you’ll need to move your things into the guest room.” The room fell silent. I did not raise my voice, nor did I shed a single tear. I simply picked up my packed suitcase and walked to the door. The butler tried to stop me, but Damian did not even blink. “She’ll come back.” He lazily swirled the wine in his glass. “She’ll come back crying and begging within three days.” Our guests burst out laughing. They placed a million-dollar bet right in front of me. They were betting on whether I would be back before the night was over, begging Damian to let me back in like a pathetic stray dog with my tail between my legs. However, they did not know I had already received the family heirloom from my real father. I booked my flight to get far, far away from everyone I used to know. This time, I really left.

Cancer was killing me, and my husband worked through every night building a human cryonics program to save my life. Before they put me under, he held the baby I had nearly died giving birth to, and said through tears: "Lina Virga, our son and I will wait together for the day you can wake up. Seven years from now, a drug that can treat my illness exist, and the hospital brings me back. When the nurse asked me to settle the bill, I stared at her blankly and asked her to call my husband for me. "Contact Vito Ranieri of the Lucchese family. Tell him his wife is awake." But the nurse laughed under her breath. "Please, don't joke. Mr. Ranieri and Miss Bellini have a son who's seven years old. Everyone in Sicily knows they’re a devoted couple. "I'll have the neurologist come by and evaluate you shortly." I assumed she was teasing me. I didn't give it another thought. Then Nora Bellini arrived, hired as a photographer to document me, the medical miracle. Vito's interview was playing on the television, and I said it with pride. "That's my husband. The best researcher there is." Nora's brows lifted in surprise, and the corners of her mouth dipped. "As far as I'm aware, Vito has exactly one wife. Me. "So how is it I've never heard about anyone else?"

Three years ago, during a brutal war with a rival family, my fiancé Warren took a bullet for me. To protect me, he dragged the enemy down a cliff with him. I never found his body—only his blood-soaked suit. On the day of his funeral, I stood in the pouring rain all night, swearing to make our enemies pay in blood. Three years later, I had wiped out every mafia family on the West Coast, becoming the cold-blooded, ruthless Donna everyone feared. On the anniversary of Warren's death, I took my gun to the cliff where he fell. "Warren, I can finally come see you." "Living without you... it's been hell." Just as I pressed the barrel to my temple, the bells of a nearby chapel rang. To my surprise, I saw my top Capos walking inside. Frowning, I quietly followed them in. But standing at the altar, saying his vows, was my "dead" fiancé, Warren. And the woman snuggled in his arms was my own sister, Chloe. Right as the guests erupted in cheers, they shared a deep, passionate kiss. I froze, my blood running cold.

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?"

When I first met Damian Corsetti, he was just one of the Don's many illegitimate sons. He was living a wretched life back then, but his ambition burned all the brighter. "Velia, trust me. One day I'll become the Don, and you'll be the only woman by my side." His confidence won me over. From that day on, I became the deadliest weapon he had. I handled all the dirty work for him. Some questioned his bloodline. I dug up their families' darkest secrets until they had no choice but to swear loyalty to him. Once, I stayed awake for ten days to hunt down a traitor. I caught him moments before he could carry out an assassination. In just a few years, I had become one of the most wanted enemies of nearly every rival Family. And Damian finally became the Don. On the night of his succession ceremony, he walked toward me in a tailored black suit, a bouquet of red roses in his hands. He was finally going to keep his promise. Once he became the Don, he would propose to me. For the first time in years, I lowered my eyes, almost shy. But Damian walked right past me and offered the roses to the woman in the white dress standing behind me. "Vera, will you marry me and become the Don's wife?" Tears streamed down Vera's face as she nodded. Then they kissed, completely lost in each other. The smile froze on my face.