Reborn Mafia 단편 소설 & Bias 소설

In my last life, Enzo Saletta saved me from the fire. Chiara Bellini died in my place. For months, he cared for me like a devoted husband. He guarded my hospital room. He bought gifts for our unborn child. He told me none of it was my fault. I believed him. Until the night after I gave birth. Our son was asleep beside me. I was too weak to move, still aching from labor, but for one brief moment, I believed we were safe. Then I smelled smoke. The door would not open. Outside the locked door, Enzo’s voice cut through the smoke. “You took Chiara from me. Now burn with your child.” I screamed his name until my throat bled. No one opened the door. The flames swallowed me and my newborn son. When I opened my eyes again, I was back inside that burning warehouse. Five months pregnant. Smoke in my lungs. Chiara still alive. This time, I did not call Enzo. I waited until he came. I watched him carry Chiara out first. Then I crawled through the fire alone, bleeding for a child he would never get the chance to kill. Everyone believed I had set the fire. Everyone called me jealous, vicious, and insane. But they had forgotten one thing. Before I became Enzo Saletta’s wife, I was the woman who helped build the Carmine family’s security system. Chiara deleted the main footage. She did not delete mine.

I'm married to Don Antonio Gallo for ten years. My hands, which are originally meant to play the piano, have learned to assemble guns and take apart bombs for him. I was there with Antonio when he was just a lowly criminal, and I witnessed his entire journey to the summit, where he claimed the throne as the king of the underground casino. But right after Antonio becomes successful in life, he gets infatuated with a pure and innocent maiden from the slums. That maiden is Silvia Bianchi. She was delivered to Antonio's bed like cargo. A maiden like her is as pure as an angel, yet so delicate like porcelain. For the first time ever, Antonio, who's already used to bloodshed and violence, gets a taste of addiction. He's really good at hiding her presence. I only find out about it when I accidentally come across him and Silvia attending a prenatal checkup together. When I break down and demand an explanation from Antonio, he just hands over a divorce agreement nonchalantly. "Silvia doesn't have anyone to rely on, nor does she have a home to go back to. Once she has a proper title, she and her baby won't get bullied anymore. "If you sign this document, I'll give you 20% of my shares. Once Silvia gives birth to her baby, I'll make sure that the baby acknowledges you as their mother as well. Consider this my compensation to you." Of course, I can't accept it at all. I end up slapping Silvia on the face during her baby's first party. That night, my younger brother, Paolo Romano, gets crippled and strapped to the front of an armored truck. "This is the lesson you shall learn for hurting Silvia, Valentina!" I kneel on the ground and beg Antonio to stop. But the moment the engine starts, I feel Paolo's blood being sprayed all over my face. Sharp pain flares from my abdomen immediately. I can only clutch it while screaming hysterically before passing out. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Antonio and Silvia are attending a prenatal checkup together. This time, I no longer ask Antonio any questions. Instead, I secretly sell all of the jewelry I've secretly kept and buy myself two plane tickets. Now, I just want to escape from Antonio with Paolo by my side.

Lamond, the current Don of the Catani family, once promised that no matter which son I chose to marry in the future, that son would become his successor. But on the day I picked my husband, I did not pick Luca, to whom I had confessed my feelings ninety-nine times. Instead, I picked his quiet illegitimate son, Marco. Everyone was stunned. The entire Catani family knew that I was obsessed with Luca and believed that he was going to be their next Don. In the previous timeline, I had indeed married Luca. However, after our marriage, he started staying out all night. When he came back, he would come home smelling of Cecilia's perfume, his childhood friend's. Luca said I was overthinking things, and I believed him. I did, until the day I caught him and Cecilia in an intimate embrace on our marital bed. In order to show his support for me, Lamond punished him and sent Cecilia to a far-away country. I was not expecting that the first thing Luca would do after becoming Don was to bring Cecilia back to his side. Then, Cecilia shut me in a room for seven days. I could not even ask for help when I started delivering my baby. In the end, both my baby and I died. Once I returned to the past, I decided to right my previous mistake and cut ties with Luca. To my surprise, Luca ended up regretting it.

In my last life, right after I found out I was pregnant, a fire broke out in the mansion where I lived. My husband, Don Austin Marchetti, took most of the Family up into the mountains that night to search for his missing childhood friend instead. My calls for help went straight to voicemail. All I could do was watch the fire spread and swallow the entire house. He wept regretfully over what was left of me. After I died, he still went on to marry her. On their wedding day, guilt finally caught up with him, and he took his own life. His last words were that if he ever got the chance to live again, he'd choose me without hesitation. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the fire. And I found him leading everyone up into the mountains to search for her before the flames had even started. This time, I wasn't waiting around for him to save me. I was saving myself.

My little sister, Anna Hale, was a famous surgeon. But I was the only one who knew she couldn't operate at all. During every major operation, I was the one holding the scalpel and spending 12 hours or more on my feet in the OR while she relaxed in her office over coffee. I worked until I collapsed, yet my father, Arthur Hale, the hospital director, always gave Anna the credit for the lives I saved. She was the respected doctor. I had nothing. I was just her stand-in whenever she needed one. One night, I'd barely left the hospital when my father called, his voice ice-cold. "Emma, get back to the OR right now! We just got a critically injured patient. You're helping Anna save him!" I couldn't stand by and let someone die. But as I drove back, a sudden chorus of chatter filled my ears, and floating comments began scrolling before my eyes: [Don't go back! The patient is Salvatore Rinaldi, the old Don of the Rinaldi family. His son arranged the hit so he could take over.] [If you save him, his psycho son will come after you right away. If you don't, he'll pin his father's death on you.] [There's no way out. Save him or not, you're the one who ends up dead.] A chill ran down my spine. My father was still urging me to hurry over the phone. I decided to trust the words floating before my eyes and take my chances. My eyes swept over the area and landed on a section of exterior wall under construction beside the hospital entrance. Without a second's hesitation, I drove straight into it. Now that I'd been in an accident, Anna would have to handle the surgery on her own.

I've been married to Sylvia Fuller, a mafia donna, for ten years. I'm there with her in every life-and-death situation. My hands, which are meant for playing the piano, have developed calluses from using guns. They are also stained with blood from the enemies. But when Sylvia turns 28, she falls head over heels in love with Wilson Hink, the young man she's brought back from the slums. Sylvia has hidden him very well… right until the moment I bump into him accompanying her to a prenatal check-up. Mad with jealousy, I demand Sylvia for answers, but she just passes me a divorce agreement in a lackadaisical manner. "Wilson is a man of religion. He can't sire a child without getting married, so I have to give him a legitimate status. Sign this agreement, and I'll give you 40% of my shares." I refuse to give my position away, so Sylvia keeps forcing my hand. In the end, she even kidnaps my younger brother, who's paralyzed from waist down, and drags him to the spot beneath a hydraulic press. "Sebastian Chance, either you sign the agreement, or watch him get crushed. Your choice." I kneel on the ground and beg Sylvia to stop. But soon, I hear the hydraulic press being activated. It doesn't take long before I'm completely covered in my brother's flesh and blood. I end up collapsing onto the gore-splattered ground. When I open my eyes again, I realize I've gone back in time—back to the time when Wilson has accompanied Sylvia to the prenatal check-up. This time, I don't say anything. Instead, I contact a rehabilitation center located overseas before filing for a divorce and leaving Sylvia behind. But once I'm gone for real, Sylvia actually goes crazy.

In my past life, Killian cut off all his mistresses and spoiled me rotten, doing everything to win my hand in marriage. But the day before our wedding, I overheard him boasting to his friends. "Killian, that orphan girl you supported is still clinging to you. She's younger and prettier than your fiancée. Are you really not tempted?" Killian curled his lip in disdain, "What is she even? She isn't even fit to lick my wife's toes. Tell her to get lost." His words sent a rush of euphoria through me. He had told me himself that financing Vivienne Moore was merely a strategic move to bolster my charity foundation. At that moment, I truly believed I had found my happily ever after. But on the wedding day, the orphan girl drove her car straight into me. She sobbed and pulled out a terminal diagnosis. "Killian, I don't have much time left. I beg you. Don't abandon me, please!" I got injured in a collision and pleaded with Killian to take me to the hospital first, but he scooped her up in his arms without a second glance. "Sierra, I need to take Vivienne abroad for medical treatment. If I were her husband, it would be way easier for me to get stuff done. We have to get a divorce first. I’m sorry.” I stared at him, my eyes widening in sheer shock. He kept going, his voice stead, “I promise I'll come back and marry you in five years. Just wait for me.” Five years turned into ten, and I waited for him in vain, nothing more than a fool. It wasn't until I was on my deathbed that I received his letter, "I'm sorry, Sierra. I'll marry you in the next life." I tore the letter to shreds and died of sheer rage. Yet, when I opened my eyes again, I was back on my wedding day. I calmly gazed after Killian as they faded into the throng. Then, without hesitation, I turned around and boarded a plane to Switzerland.

When the marriage contract was placed in front of me, I only took a moment to read the terms, but Lucien Moretti urged me three times to sign. He was in a hurry, after all. His precious savior, Isabella, was waiting for him to take her to her favorite opera. So I picked up the pen, but I did not sign my name. I copied Isabella’s handwriting and wrote hers instead. In my last life, I had signed that contract with a heart full of hope. I thought becoming Lucien’s wife meant I would finally stand beside him as the Donna of the Moretti family. Instead, he kept me hidden after the wedding. At every public event, Isabella was the woman on his arm. Every matter that should have required the Donna’s approval went through her first. I told myself I was not strong enough yet. I swallowed every insult and was forced to give up everything that should have been mine. Until the night gunmen broke into the Moretti estate, and Lucien chose her again. He carried Isabella out in his arms while I bled out behind him. Then I opened my eyes and found myself back before the wedding contract was sealed. This time, I gave Isabella the Donna’s necklace. I gave her the wedding dress. I even signed her name on the contract meant for me. I gave up my name, and I gave him up with it.

I took my newborn son to my husband’s mafia compound for his christening. His ten-year-old niece, Bianca—the Family’s spoiled little princess—pushed my baby’s stroller straight into the deep end of the freezing pool. My son sank to the bottom. The clinking of champagne glasses drowned out his final struggles. I dove in like a madwoman. But I only pulled out a cold, lifeless body. Because Bianca was "Family blood," the murder was ruled a tragic accident. My father-in-law, the Don, handed me a limitless black card as "compensation." But I didn't want money. I wanted my son. I wanted my Nico! I dropped to my knees. I begged my husband, Matteo, to avenge our baby. Instead, he just held his crying niece and looked at me with dead eyes. "Mandy, she’s just a child. Are you going to destroy one life over a mistake?" Denied my vengeance, I wasted away in our penthouse that long winter, dying a broken woman. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the christening. My husband’s arm was wrapped around my waist. His hot kisses trailed down my neck. "Our boy will be blessed by the priest today." I shoved him away instantly. I called my personal guards. I had them rush my son safely to my family's estate. But later that day, a tiny body still floated in the pool.

My twin sister, Sofia, and I looked identical. People always chose her first. She was soft-spoken, graceful, and easy to protect. I was direct, persistent, and never very good at softening the truth. Three years ago, gunfire erupted at Pier 19 as I was heading to a yacht party. I found Dante Caruso, underboss to New York's most feared crime families, bleeding behind a stack of shipping crates. I tore the hem from my red dress to bind his wound, then ran for help. When I returned, Sofia was kneeling beside him with the family doctor. "Did you save me?" Dante asked. Sofia lowered her lashes. "You're safe. That's all that matters." He believed she was his rescuer. When I told the truth, my parents said I was trying to steal Sofia's moment. Our families were bound by a marriage agreement. Believing Sofia was his rescuer, Dante chose her. Then someone drugged his champagne at the alliance gala. The next morning, we woke up in the same bed with no clear memory of the night, and rival photographers waited in the hall. Caruso honor left him one choice. He married me, and Sofia married his sickly younger brother. On our wedding night, Dante said, "This wasn't your fault. Since you’re marrying me, I'll protect you and give you every respect you're owed." I mistook duty for the beginning of love. I did everything I could to be a good wife and a good sister. Then Sofia died when her car went off a rain-slick coastal road. Dante comforted me, then secretly ordered his men to investigate me. "She spent years saying Sofia stole what belonged to her," he said. "Find out how far that resentment went." Seven years of marriage could not outweigh the woman he believed had saved his life. Then fire consumed the Caruso estate. Dante was fatally injured saving me. As he died in my arms, he whispered Sofia's name. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the alliance gala. This time, I would let Dante’s marry his first choice.

I had just survived surgery. I took a bullet for the Family. Now, a rogue gangster had me tied up in an abandoned warehouse. My wife had stripped him of his turf. He was carving me up with a combat knife. Meanwhile, my wife mobilized our elite enforcers. She was the Boss of the Costa Family. But she did all this to save her pathetic old flame. He threatened to swallow pills and jump off a roof. This time, I didn’t call her private line for help. I had lived this exact nightmare before. The first time around, I begged her to save me. She ditched her old flame and rushed to the warehouse. I survived the bloodbath. Her old flame overdosed in his penthouse and died. My wife gently stroked my face back then. Her eyes held helpless affection. She even whispered that the coward deserved to die. A payback for my wounds. She promised me an unforgettable surprise for our anniversary a week later. But on our anniversary night, she drugged my wine. She tied me up. She slashed me dozens of times with a poisoned blade! "Caspian! You're my Consigliere! How could you stage a kidnapping just for my attention? You paid a hitman to put on a show! Your wounds aren't even fatal! You liar!" "You like bloody games? I'll show you real hell!" Then, I opened my eyes. The clock had reset. I was back in the warehouse. This time, I'd gladly let her go to her precious old flame.

After my little sister Sophia and I came of age, Father gave us two choices. Go to the front lines with his most trusted lieutenant and fight in the shootouts. Or go to the coast and marry into the local arms-dealing dynasty. In my last life, Sophia cried and kicked and screamed to go to the seaside. I put down the paintbrush I loved and took the gun the lieutenant handed me. In the end, I carved out a name for myself on the front lines, took back every inch of territory the family had lost, and became the successor the council of elders unanimously acknowledged. Sophia, meanwhile, was ignored by her husband, frozen out and neglected by his entire family, and died of depression. After being reborn, Sophia couldn't wait to plant herself beside Father's lieutenant, Lorenzo. "Catherine, the front lines are too dangerous. You go to the coast and live easily. I'll leave the good life for you." The lieutenant paused, then smiled with relief. I said nothing. I just told the housekeeper to pack my bags. I was ready to leave immediately. Sophia didn't know. In my last life, the reason all that lost territory was recovered, the reason that unruly lieutenant came to respect me completely, was because when we were surrounded, I refused to retreat. I cut a bloody path out with my bare hands. Reborn, with no endless artillery in my ears, I just wanted to chase my dream of art.

"Amara…I regret it. Spending this life with you was the biggest mistake of my life. If I were given another life…I would choose to be with Planette." I had believed that through sixty years of wind and rain, they had become the inseparable flesh and blood of each other’s lives, waiting only to renew their vows in the next life. But his words were like a venomous dagger. My lifelong pride, the man I had poured my entire soul into loving, had trampled my sixty years of devotion into the mud and shattered it completely, using the most vicious method at the very end of his life. "Puff." A mouthful of blood suddenly sprayed across the pristine white bed sheet. I didn't even have time to let out a complete cry of agony. My pupils instantly dilated and lost focus as I fell rigidly backward. In the end, I couldn't survive the night. When I woke up again, I was reborn back to the age of twenty-eight, the very day after we got married.

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?"

When the Kane brothers turned eighteen, my father asked my adopted sister, Bianca, and me to choose one of them as our personal guard. Their father had died protecting mine, and my family had raised them inside the Moretti estate ever since. Gabriel chose Bianca. I was left with Julian—a silent, deeply traumatized boy everyone believed had lost his voice in the shooting that killed his parents. For seven years, I took him to specialists, learned sign language, and trained to protect myself because I didn't want my family to cast him out for being unable to speak. Then our yacht sank. Julian tore the last survival suit from my body and gave it to Bianca. As I drowned, he spoke to me for the first time. "I'm sorry, Elena. I want Bianca to live. If we have another life, I'll repay the one I owe you." When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day we chose our guards. But this time, I would never choose him again.

The man I love more than anyone in this world, Don Carlo Guardia, has spent ten years loathing me because of his one true love, Margherita Carrettiere. We torment each other until the final days of my life, when he sets aside all his Famiglia's affairs and stays by my deathbed, patiently feeding me my favorite grapes. "Giovannina, if I were given another chance, I wish I had never met you," he tells me with bloodshot eyes. Three days after I am laid to rest, before the entire Famiglia, he raises a gun to his temple and ends his life at my grave. When I open my eyes again, the first thing I hear is the heated argument echoing through my Famiglia's council chamber. A rival Famiglia has obtained all the evidence of our underground financial network. Their terms are clear. If we want this war to end, we must hand over one of our heirs to stand trial. In my previous life, my Papa, Guglielmo Carrettiere, cannot bear to sacrifice me. So, he sends my younger sister, Margherita, who suffers from a heart condition, in my place. Ultimately, she dies a tragic death. Consequently, Carlo spends the rest of his life resenting me. I rise to my feet and speak up before the astonished eyes of my Famiglia's Consiglieri. "Papa, please hand me over. As for the marriage alliance with the Guardia Famiglia… have Margherita take my place." Now that I've been given another chance at life, I choose to give up on Carlo and fulfill his wish to be with Margherita.

Everyone called my sister Alessia a prodigy. I was the only one who knew she was a thief. From the day I moved back into the brownstone, she started taking from me. Quietly. Carefully. My designs. My sketches. My drafts. Everything I created would appear under her name before I even had time to finish it. The family stood behind her. Always. My father, Salvatore Lucchese, head of the family, his word law itself, said he believed Alessia. So I became the liar. The plagiarist. The disgrace. They threw me out of the outfit's front shop. Blacklisted me from the industry. Erased my name. Then one of her loyal admirers ran me down in the street. That was the end. Or it should have been. When I opened my eyes again, it was the day before the national jewelry competition. This time, I didn't draw a single line. Let's see what my darling sister delivers… when the well has run dry.

I gave my Mafia husband forty years of marriage. His last request was that I stop making things difficult for my stepsister. “She has no one, Elena. Let her keep what I gave her.” The night my stepsister fled her arranged marriage, my stepmother drugged me and sent me to Dante De Luca’s penthouse to save the family’s shipping deal. When I woke, I told him the truth. “Call off the wedding. I’ll explain everything.” The young Mafia boss fastened my open collar. “You’re the one I’ll be waiting for tomorrow. I take care of my wife.” For a while, he did. He remembered my favorite food and stayed beside me through my nightmares. I began to believe he could love me. Three years later, Evelyn called, claiming her husband had beaten her. As Dante reached for his coat, I showed him the ultrasound. “Twins. Please stay tonight.” He stayed. I gave him forty more years, believing we’d built a life together. After his death, I discovered he’d secretly left Evelyn a yacht, a hunting lodge, and a fortune. His final recording told me not to object. “You and the children have the estate. She has no one. Don’t make this difficult.” Even then, I was expected to give way. After the funeral, Evelyn asked to discuss the trust. My son told me to call a lawyer. My daughter asked me not to argue. Evelyn pushed me down the dock steps and locked the door. With a broken leg, I couldn’t escape the rising tide. Then I woke on the night of her call. The ultrasound lay on my desk. “Evelyn needs me.” This time, I put the pictures away. “Then go. Don’t keep her waiting.”

My sister wanted to make a quick buck selling herself on a cruise ship. I tried desperately to stop her, but my entire family held me down and drowned me in the ocean instead. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment before she left. This time, I smiled while helping her with her makeup. "Let me send you off properly, sis." Later, her screams echoed through the nightmare aboard that ship. I stood safe in the arms of a mafia Don who held me close. "Figlia, your Papa finally found you." Meanwhile, my adoptive parents and sister were on their knees across the deck, begging me to spare their worthless lives.

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.