قصص وروايات قصيرة من فئة Mafia وعن Familial Bond وتضم Bias وتدور في Marriage

I was supposed to stand beside my fiancé, Marco Bellini, at the charity gala. Both our families had assumed for years that we would marry. This was my first time attending their most formal social event as his future wife. But 20 minutes before the gala, my father suddenly changed the plan. "Sophia Ricci will stand beside Marco tonight. The foundation is honoring her father, Lorenzo Ricci, so she should be the one to welcome the guests." I turned to Marco. "You agree with this?" After a moment, he said, "It's one night. Don't make such a big deal out of it." And just like that, the guest list I'd spent two weeks preparing went to Sophia. Once the gala began, an older guest who hadn't seen us in years smiled at them. "So the Bellini family and the Moretti family are finally getting these two engaged?" Everyone laughed. I stood a few steps away, looking only at Marco. All he had to say was, "You've got the wrong idea." But first he looked at Sophia. She looked uncomfortable, so he smiled and changed the subject. "Tonight is about the foundation. Let's leave our private lives out of it." He never explained who I was. And he never came back to my side. Three days later, I became the Ferraro family's only outside partner on their West Coast project. I was done with the rest of them.

My husband's childhood sweetheart was diagnosed with a terminal illness. To fulfill her last wishes and let her experience the warmth of family, my husband, Aaron Turner, gave her my necklace. He even let her claim my birthday. Even our son started calling her "Mom" in private. He told me, "Chrishell, Sylvia is dying. Just give in to her, will you?" Whenever I asked him to spare even a little time and affection for me, our son, Lucas, would rush to speak on their behalf. "Mom, didn't you always teach me to be generous? Sylvia is dying. Why do you always make things difficult for her?" Over time, I stopped asking for anything at all. Then one night, I overheard my son speaking to his father after returning from the hospital. "Sylvia is so gentle and graceful. I wish Mom could be more like her." Aaron chuckled and affectionately brushed his hand over our son's hair. "Your mom may be a little strict, but it's all for your own good. Since you like Sylvia so much, how about we let her be your godmother?" So even the child I risked my life to bring into this world didn't like me. I lowered my gaze, quietly closed the bedroom door, and pretended none of it had happened. Since they were both filled with such regret, I'd leave quietly and give them what they wanted.

After his older brother died, my husband, Theodore Ricci, brought his brother's widow, Brynn, and her daughter, Amy, into the Ricci family home. He kept them close and saw to their every need. The tenth time Theodore left our daughter, Lucia Ricci, and me for Brynn and Amy, I started teaching Lucia not to depend on him. I told her to call him Don Ricci. We were on our way to the amusement park when Brynn called to say Amy had had a nightmare, and Theodore left us. I pulled our daughter into my arms, her eyes red from crying, and did my best to comfort her. We got caught in the crossfire between rival families. Theodore ignored our daughter's cries for help and ran to protect Amy. Dragging my injured leg, I carried Lucia on my back all the way to the hospital. "It's okay," I told her. "Even if Don Ricci isn't here, Mommy will always protect you." When Theodore realized our daughter was pulling away from him, he tried to make it up to her. He went all out planning her birthday party and promised that at the celebration, he'd announce she would one day be the Ricci family's heir. But just as the party was about to start, Brynn called again. "Theodore, some kid pushed Amy down, and she's crying for you!" Theodore looked at me, torn. Before I could speak, our daughter waved at him. "It's okay, Don Ricci. Go do what you need to do. I have Mommy with me." That was when I understood. Our daughter no longer needed him either. He was a father in name only.

At our son's piano competition, my husband, Richard Hayes, received yet another call from Vivian Morgan. I'd lost count of how many times he'd said the same thing to me. "Elena, Vivian says Mia keeps crying for her daddy and won't go to sleep. She wants me to come over and help. I need to go..." I cut him off before he could finish. "But you promised Leo you'd be onstage with him when he received his award." "I'm sorry. I promised Jay I'd look after Vivian and Mia. I can't break my word." He paused. "Leo has you. I'm sure he'll understand." Before I could say anything to stop him, Richard turned and disappeared into the crowd. I watched him go and smiled bitterly. Jay Morgan had been his closest partner on the job. Jay had died on a mission, saving Richard's life. And Vivian was Jay's wife. Ever since Jay died, Richard had been taking care of her and her daughter. Short on money? She called him. Daughter sick? She called him. Daughter crying for a daddy? She called him again. Richard took care of everything for them. And our home? It was just Leo and me. When the competition ended, Leo took first place. He scanned the audience, his eyes bright with anticipation. The moment he saw me walk onto the stage alone, the light in his eyes slowly faded. He gave me a sad, knowing smile no child his age should have to wear. "Mom, Dad left us again, didn't he?" I opened my mouth to comfort him. But he suddenly grabbed my hand and looked up at me. "Mom, you said we'd move somewhere Dad wouldn't be. Did you really mean it?"

By the fifth year of my marriage to James Hill, he began pretending to be his late twin brother, the late Don of the family. With that, he took over all of a Don’s duties and the role of my sister-in-law, Hilary’s husband. Every time after he slept with her, he would cut his arm open, kneel before me, and beg for forgiveness. “Pia, you’re the only woman I’ve ever loved. Once Hilary gives birth to the heir and secures her position, I’ll fake my death and come back for you.” He told me his twin brother had died saving him, so he had to fulfill his brother’s last wish. During the year he pretended to be his brother, James slept with Hilary ninety-nine times. After a full year, Hilary finally gave birth to the family’s heir. I truly believed James would fake his death as promised, then take our son and me away from this bloody life. However, I saw him with Hilary in his arms, teasing the tiny baby she carried. “Hilary, I’ll stay with you and our child until he’s ready to take over as the next Don.” Silently, I wiped my tears and went back to my room to pack my suitcase. My son saw me crying and ran into my arms, gently wiping away my tears with his little hands. “Ma, Aunt Hilary already had her baby. Why isn’t Papa coming home yet?” I placed my clothes into the suitcase as I told him softly, “Because he doesn’t want us anymore. But don’t be sad, sweetheart. I will build us a home.” If James wanted to raise an heir, then I would return to North Atlantis’s most powerful mafia family, take my rightful place as my father’s heir, and become the Godmother of the Mafia.

My husband, Charles Vison, was the Don feared throughout Sicily. In three years of marriage, I had been the only person who could get away with anything around him. I always believed that no matter what happened, he would stand by my side. Until my younger sister, Sandra, caused a disaster. With the Vison Family backing her, she got into a confrontation with a rival Family and shot the rival Don’s wife dead in the chaos. The retaliation came immediately. They bombed one of the Vison Family’s docks and ambushed a cargo ship. Three days later, the two Families finally sat down at the negotiation table. The other side made only one demand: Sandra had to be handed over. Otherwise, their Don would fight the Vison Family to the bitter end, no matter the cost. “Or…” The man sitting at the head of the table suddenly turned his gaze toward me and smiled coldly. “I could make you feel what it’s like to lose the person you love most.” That night, Charles received information that the other side would launch another bombing attack at the port banquet seven days later. After a long silence, he decided that I would fake my death in that explosion. “Only your death can calm their anger.” “When that happens, I’ll arrange for you to leave here and go to a private island in North America.” I stared at him in disbelief. “Why me? Why do I have to fake my death? Sandra was the one who killed her.” My mother’s eyes immediately turned red. “Your sister has never been able to take care of herself. How is she supposed to survive alone on an island like that?” My father tried to persuade me as well. “You’re more sensible than her, and you’re better at taking care of yourself.” I ignored them and looked at Charles with hurt in my eyes. I was certain that he couldn’t bear to let me go, but in the next moment, he avoided my gaze. “I’ll send people to take care of you.” In that moment, everything I believed in fell apart. I looked at the three people standing against me and smiled through my tea

The day my mafia husband, Vincent Colletti, chose his subordinate Serena Vega and her daughter Daisy over us yet again, I began teaching our daughter not to expect anything from him. One stormy night, our daughter was too scared to sleep. Vincent hesitated, then went to comfort Daisy instead. I took a storybook and a stuffed animal to Eve's room and sat on the edge of her bed. "It's okay. Don Colletti has things to take care of. Mommy's here with you." Vincent bailed on the family trip Eve had been looking forward to for two weeks, all because Serena said Daisy wanted to go to an amusement park. I held Eve's hand as we boarded the plane. "Baby, Don Colletti isn't coming, but we're still going on our trip." Every time Vincent chose them over her, it took Eve a long time to get over it. It went on like that until Vincent finally woke up to how long he'd been neglecting us. He kissed Eve's cheek, eager to make it up to her. "Sorry, sweetheart. Next week, you'll have the grandest baptism ceremony the family has ever seen." But at the Blood Oath Baptism, the Colletti family's ceremony to formally acknowledge and protect a child, Vincent got a call from Serena. She sobbed into the phone. "Daisy's getting teased at school for not having a dad. Could you come pretend to be her dad?" Vincent barely hesitated. He turned to Eve with a coaxing, apologetic look. "Eve, Daddy has something urgent to take care of. I need to leave for a little while." Eve stood there. She didn't cry or make a fuss. Before he could even finish, she quietly nodded. "It's okay, Don Colletti. I have Mommy, and that's enough."

The year I returned to the Moretti family, everyone expected the biological daughter and the adopted daughter to fight for their place in the family. But Gianna was different. She was the first to learn sign language so she could communicate with me. She knew I hated sitting with my back to a door. She also knew I didn't want anyone asking why I still refused to speak after two years back home. That night, at a charity gala, my father was supposed to sign an agreement that would end our family's involvement in the port's illegal operations. Instead, Luca Vitale stormed in with representatives from eight families and proposed a toast to my father. He took one sip and collapsed. A second later, the ballroom screen lit up. Gianna's payment to a pharmacist and chat messages mentioning "Dad's wine" had been used to make it look like she'd bought drugs to murder our father. She really had made that payment. She handed over her phone for everyone to see, but the original messages had been deleted, and she couldn't recover them. Luca gave us ten minutes: hand over Gianna or hand over the port. All the while, Luca's doctor stood beside my father with a syringe in his hand. He refused to say where he'd gotten it. My mother told Luca, "You can have the port. You can't have either of my daughters." Gianna pulled away from her anyway and walked straight to Luca. All she asked was that he let our father go to the hospital first. As she passed me, she signed with trembling hands, "Don't tell them about your past for my sake." I stared at the syringe. I'd seen that same medical kit at the clinic in Malta. I'd also seen what happened to patients once they became bargaining chips. If Gianna was willing to go that far for me, then I was willing to risk everything for her, just this once.

From the moment my mafia husband, Alessio Vitale, brings his childhood friend, Mia Santoro, and her son into our home, everything changes. While our son, Luca Vitale, is sick in the hospital with a fever, Alessio takes Mia's son to Wonderland Park to celebrate his birthday. When I call, all I hear on the other end is the sound of laughter and celebration. Alessio's voice is mixed in with it, gentle and almost chiding, as if I'm the one being unreasonable. "He doesn't have a father, and he's already got it hard enough. Don't overthink it." I don't call him again. That night, I place a divorce agreement in front of Alessio. "Don't see Mia more than three times in the next two weeks," I say. "Otherwise, we're getting a divorce." He looks at me and smiles. "That's it? It's that simple?" I nod. It is indeed simple, so straightforward that I already know he'll choose Mia every single time. All I have to do is wait for those two weeks to pass, then I'll take Luca and leave.