Melodramatic Mafia 短篇故事與 Bias Regret 小說

In New York's Cosa Nostra, girls were lining up to marry Matteo Rinaldi. The Don’s heir. My sister, Stella, and I both attended the selection gala. Stella was the favorite. The future Donna. But she wasn't chosen. The family swarmed her. Comforting her. I stood in the corner with the diamond ring in my hand. The one from Matteo. I wanted to tell them. He chose me. But the words wouldn't come out. Because a nightmare had just flashed through my mind. A vision of my future. In that vision, I told them everything that Matteo picked me. Stella, humiliated, bought a ticket to Europe the next day. I married Matteo. But my family wasn't happy for me. They saw me in my wedding dress at the church. Their first words: "If you hadn't stolen Matteo, Stella would still be here. She wouldn't be suffering in Europe." Later, Stella met Nolan in Europe. The Pakhan of the Russian Bratva. The Rinaldi family's mortal enemy. My parents used me. They spied on the Rinaldis, feeding intel to Stella to help her marry Nolan. Matteo found out. He called me a traitor. Threw me in a dungeon. Ruined my face. I finally escaped. I begged my parents to save me. But they were gone. They had a new life in Russia. That's when I knew they never loved me. And now, I clutched the ring in my hand. A bitter taste in my mouth. I'll give the ring back. I’m not marrying into the Rinaldi family. If they never loved me, then I’m gone for good.

My husband Dante, Don of the Moretti family, was killed in a gang crossfire. I was devastated, because the same day, I’d also found out that my IVF injection had worked. I was pregnant. The Moretti didn’t want me to spiral. So they called in Dante’s twin brother, Ash Moretti, to help around. I felt both guilty and grateful until I overheard them talking in the study. “It was Ash who died. Why would you make us tell Harper it was you?” His father asked. Dante’s voice. “I only married her because you promised me the Don’s seat.” Then Gianna’s voice. “Dante had given her a child. That alone should’ve been enough.” So. It wasn’t my husband who died. It was his brother. And my husband and his sister in law thought this was his clean exit. As he wished, I gave it to him. When the doctor told me the fetus had less than a ten percent chance of survival, I agreed to terminate. And along with reclaiming everything else I had once given the Moretti, I walked away from his life—for good.

On our fifth anniversary, my fiance, Antonio Miller, the head of a powerful mafia syndicate, takes me to see the northern lights. Before we set out, our guide warns everyone to bundle up against the cold. Antonio immediately wraps his childhood friend, Simona Weaver, in his own winter gear, terrified that she'll freeze. When a blizzard hits, he piles every piece of warm clothing he can find around her. He never notices me standing nearby until I lose consciousness from the cold. When I finally open my eyes, Antonio's furious face fills my vision. "Camilla, why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?" We've been together for five years, yet when I wake up after collapsing, his first reaction isn't concern. It's anger. After the trip, I cancel our engagement party and book a flight to Westmere. I've heard the mountains there are another perfect place to see the northern lights. When Antonio finds out, he sends me a single message. "Camilla, don't test our love like this. Simona's father died saving my life. I promised him I'd take care of her." But there's one thing Antonio doesn't know. I only have ten days left to live.

After three days of the silent treatment, my fiancé, Matteo Vitale, decided I had finally learned my place. I no longer asked where he was or called to make sure he was safe. He kissed my forehead, pleased. "Now you're finally acting like the future Donna of this family." Later, he boasted to his friends. "You can't let a woman get too clingy. Ignore her for a while, and she'll learn to be independent." I said nothing. I booked a flight to New York for three days later. A year earlier, his convoy had been ambushed. He disappeared for thirteen hours and came home bleeding. Afterward, he promised to call whenever he was safe. But in less than six months, he grew tired of the promise he had made himself. Then he started using that promise to train me—to stop being so "clingy." The last time I couldn't reach him, I called all night and caught the first flight home. I found him drinking champagne. His assistant, Nora, was bragging that she had received her call before eleven. "It was a bet," his friend laughed. "He told us to ignore you. Behave today, and he'll announce the wedding date." I hadn't argued. That was what he mistook for progress. When he saw my packed boxes, he assumed I was moving into his estate. "That's my good girl." I let him believe it. If he thought my love was a cage, I would set him free. This time, he would be the one waiting for a call that never came.

My sister Sofia and I married into the Moretti family, New York's most feared dynasty, and got pregnant less than a month apart. I married Dante Moretti, the eldest son and youngest trauma surgery chief St. Vincent's had ever appointed. Sofia married his younger brother Luca, a Major Crimes detective with a badge and a Moretti army at his back. One carried a scalpel. The other carried a gun. Behind them stood a family that owned docks, unions, private clubs, and half the secrets in Manhattan. Everyone said we'd won a life women would kill for. On my first anniversary, I left a maternity clinic with our daughter's fetal heart scans. Sofia hopped out at a bakery for a cinnamon-apple tart. That craving saved her life. The black Cadillac carrying me cut through an intersection and drove straight into an armored truck. Metal folded around me. Glass filled my mouth. Beneath the screaming brakes, I felt my baby stop moving. I called Dante with a bloodied hand. He rejected me three times before answering the fourth. "Enough with the loyalty tests, Elena. Valentina's old gunshot wound triggered an arrhythmia, and I'm treating her. You and Sofia don't get to invent emergencies every time we help her." Sofia called Luca in tears. He was at Valentina's townhouse investigating a triggered alarm. "A false report leaves a record," he said. "Stop helping your sister put on a show." In the end, my eight-month-pregnant sister smashed open the warped car door and dragged me through broken glass and leaking gasoline. She commandeered a hotel SUV and drove me to the ER herself. I survived. She went into premature labor and lost her son the same night I lost my daughter. After surgery, we lay in neighboring beds while dawn bled through the windows. "Elena," Sofia whispered, "I'm done with my marriage." I reached across and took her ice-cold hand. "So am I."

The day I learned I was pregnant, I walked out of a private clinic holding the test results, ready to tell my husband that we were finally going to have a child. I never got the chance to make the call. A sports car driven by Damian's foster sister, Serena, struck me outside the clinic. When Damian arrived, he rushed past the paramedics and lifted Serena into his arms, even though she had suffered only minor injuries. He never recognized his wife being loaded into the ambulance. After surgery, he called to tell me that Serena had been in an accident and needed him beside her. "I am sorry, but I have to cancel our anniversary dinner." I did not tell him that I was the other person involved in the crash. I did not tell him that the child we had wanted for five years was gone. He gave me the title of Donna while reserving his forbidden devotion for her. Since he could not bear to lose either of us, I would make the choice for him. In seven days, I would leave New York and return to my parents in Sicily. Damian would receive the two gifts I left behind. The first would be a divorce that restored his freedom. The second would be the wedding he and Serena had always wanted. This time, I would not ask why he betrayed me. I would quietly give them my blessing, and then I would disappear forever.

Before I turned eighteen, I was the adored principessa of the Moretti family. That all changed on my eighteenth birthday, when my father brought home an orphan girl named Carina. "She needs a home," my father said. "You will look after her, like a sister." From that moment on, nothing was the same. My brother, who once doted on me, became cold and distant. And my fiancé... his love for me seemed to halve overnight. The family praised Carina for being gentle and obedient, calling her a far better daughter than me, their own flesh and blood. After being cast aside for Carina one too many times, I finally broke and grabbed my father's sleeve. "Does blood mean nothing at all?" My father's fury ignited. He sheltered a tear-stricken Carina behind him, and in front of every member of the family, he struck me across the face. "You selfish waste. I wish I'd never had you." "You bring shame to this family," my brother Marco's voice was as cold as a blade. "Get out." And my fiancé, Vincent, looked at me with disappointment,"If only it had been Carina I was engaged to from the start." They thought I would grovel at their feet, like I always did. But I said nothing, just walked to the family safe, removed the official documents, and drew a single line through my name. I took the engagement ring from my finger and placed it on the table. I gave Carina everything they felt I didn't deserve. After all, I only had a few days left to live. But they had no idea then that amid the ruins of the Moretti family, they would one day kneel in the rain and plead for my return.

At a mafia family banquet, my boyfriend of five years, Emilio Gimondi, gives away the ring that symbolizes the family's Donna to his childhood friend, Carlotta Lecce. Someone asks in astonishment, "You gave the ring to Carlotta? Isn't Ms. Rinaldi going to be angry?" Emilio looks completely unconcerned. "A proposal is just a formality. Zita is going to be the Donna eventually. She doesn't need to throw a tantrum over a ring." Carlotta makes a point of flashing the ring in front of me. "Zita, isn't it pretty?" Emilio thinks I'll react the way I always have—in anger and jealousy. Instead, I simply watch them quietly and say that it does indeed look nice. He relaxes, thinking that I've finally learned my place. He promises that once we marry, he'll make it up to me with something much better than that ring. But what he doesn't know is that I've already been accepted into medical school. Very soon, I'll be gone.

On our third Valentine's Day since marrying the Don Arthur, he set the three places at the dining table. With the same hands he used to wield a gun, he carefully peeled shrimp. Shrimp was Lora's favorite, the first love he'd never gotten over. I was allergic to shellfish. He dismissed every hurt he'd caused me and sided with Lora every time. He was certain I loved him so deeply that I would swallow every insult and step aside forever. Everything changed when I discovered Lora's role in my father's murder and learned how completely Arthur's blind trust in her had buried the truth. That was when I finally saw him clearly. I was done with Arthur and the love he claimed to have for me.

After my younger sister went abroad, I married the mafia Don in her place. Five years after we married, we became each other’s greatest enemies. He hated me for driving my sister away and scheming my way into becoming his wife. I hated him for always treating me as a stand-in, never once acknowledging me in front of the world. My lack of status brought humiliation to my vain parents, and from that moment on, their love for me turned into hatred. In the end, he and my parents left me behind on a snowy mountain while celebrating Christmas with my sister. In the bitter cold, I died together with the child I never got to meet. Meanwhile, my sister basked in everyone’s love and had the happiest Christmas of her life. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day my sister returned from abroad. This time, I would not beg Gideon or my parents to love me ever again.

The night my family’s rival gang stormed the mafia ball, I was taken as leverage. My boyfriend, Nolan, and my closest friend, Riven, stood only steps away. But they chose to shield my cousin, Anna, instead. I was being saved by a secret man hours later—bruised, shaken, and already forgotten. No one asked what had been done to me. Nolan only said, “Anna was scared. She needed us more.” Days later, Anna invited me to her birthday party. I went out of courtesy—only to watch her cast me as the villain of her story. Nolan and Luca stood by her, protecting her again. That night, I said yes to the marriage alliance my family had prepared years ago. When I left the city, Nolan finally texted—angry, wounded, offended. “You’re really leaving?" I replied with just one line. “You’re more than welcome to my wedding.”

In the VIP lounge of an underground casino, Maeve, the Falcone family's princess, had been plied with too much hard liquor. Fueled by alcohol, someone goaded her into revealing the most shameless thing she'd ever done to win over the Don. She swirled her glass, pointed at me dealing cards behind the table, and threw her head back with a laugh. "Seven years ago, when Declan was in a coma after a shootout, I took his private phone. And I deleted the distress message that bitch sent him. Every last trace of it. Then I replied in his name: You're a burden. Go die." "You'll never guess what happened next. That idiot stood outside the safe house all night in a downpour, like a stray dog. I almost died laughing…" The room erupted in crude laughter. Only the man enthroned at the head of the table remained silent. The crystal whiskey glass in his hand shattered with a sharp crack. Blood mixed with the amber liquor, trickling over the veins on the back of his hand before dripping onto the carpet. His murderous, bloodshot eyes were locked on me. I calmly dealt the last hole card in front of him and offered a clean, white silk handkerchief. "Don Declan, you should wipe your hand. Blood on the felt is bad luck." After all, some stains never wash out.

Three years into my marriage with Dominick, Gia, his stepsister, sent me a video clip out of nowhere. I tapped on the video, only to find Dominick tying his stepsister to the bedpost with the tie I had given him. His stepsister lay naked under him, addressing him intimately. After getting their freak on, they shared an embrace, and Gia cozied up against Dominick and uttered, “I don’t like the ring you bought me. Give it to Luna, and tell her it’s a birthday gift from me.” The next day, I sat in an upscale restaurant and stared at the vacant seat across the table. Suddenly, the Underboss wheeled a massive cake toward me. “Don Costa was called away on urgent business. He sent me to deliver your birthday gift.” The box contained his stepsister’s discarded reject. My phone buzzed with new pictures from Gia. Dominick was at the hospital with Gia for a check-up. Without a fuss, I signed the divorce papers and made preparations for a wedding. “Donna Costa, whose names should I put down as the bride and groom?” “Dominick and Gia.” A week from now, I would show the world the kind of filth the supposed solemn Don had been rolling in with his stepsister.

I am halfway through filling out the marriage application with Luca Moretti when his phone rings. He glances at the screen, and the moment he sees the caller's name, his expression changes. "I have something urgent to take care of. We'll register our marriage another day," he says after answering it. Before I can say anything, Luca is already on his feet. A moment later, he hurries out of city hall, leaving me sitting there alone with the unfinished application in front of me. All because his childhood friend, Rosa Conti, has woken up from a nightmare. A little while later, my phone buzzes. Luca has sent me a text. "Rosa is extremely upset. I need to stay with her. I'm not coming back today." I stare at the message, my fingers tightening around my phone. This isn't the first time Luca has abandoned me for Rosa. There have been countless occasions when he's chosen her over me. Every time, I've argued with him, cried, and eventually forgiven him when he comes back. But this time is different. For once, I'm not going to argue. I'm not going to wait for him to come back, and I certainly won't forgive him and pretend everything is fine like I always have before. Under the sympathetic gaze of the clerk, I quietly push the marriage application aside and pull out my phone. I scroll through my contacts until I find the name of someone I haven't spoken to in a very long time. I stare at the number for a moment. Then I type my message. "Come to City Hall now. Let's get married."

For twenty-two years, I had been the only daughter of the Falcones. Everyone in the family held me in their hands. Underboss Leon Marchetti took a bullet for me. Consigliere Enzo Ricci stormed into enemy territory just to pull me out. Vice Don Darius Lombardi even swore in front of the Don himself that no matter what happened, I would always be the first person he protected. They spoiled me rotten, made me willful, and convinced me of one thing. No matter who I eventually chose as my fiancé, they would never leave my side. Until six months ago, when the real Falcone heiress, Bianca Falcone, came back to the family. Little by little, their time, their protection, all their care shifted to Bianca. I cried. I fought. I even swallowed my pride and asked them if there was something I wasn't doing right. All they said was for me to be reasonable. "Bianca spent twenty-two years out there. You've already lived her life for too long." "She's the true heir of the Falcones. Elena, know your place." I started to wonder what they once treasured, was it really me, or just the title of Falcone's daughter. I forced back my tears and knocked on Don Salvatore Falcone's study door. "Don. Tomorrow, I'm going back to my own family."

My husband Christian Messina's assistant has been blowing through my money like it's water. At the underground auction, she laughed in my face and called me a useless trophy wife. So I cut her access. She got humiliated at checkout, and the club's security locked her up for a full day and night. When Christian found out, he froze my card on my birthday. Told me I'd better figure out how to pay, or I'd be stripping down and crawling out on all fours in front of every mob higher-up in New York. What he doesn't know? I'm the heiress to the biggest mafia empire in the country. The Moretti name? That's mine. And everything he has right now—every turf, every dollar, every scrap of power? I put it all in his hands. Quietly. Behind his back.

My fiancé, Orlando, was a mafia captain. Three years ago, he got caught in a shootout, and someone tried to kill him. I took the bullet for him without thinking twice. The wound left me so weak that I spent most of my days stuck at home. Afraid I'd get hurt again, Orlando brought in a maid named Cecilia to look after me and act as my stand-in. Whatever was meant for me, she tried it first to make sure it was safe. Little by little, she got everything before I did. First to break in my heels. First to sleep in my wedding bed. Even the trip to Iceland I'd waited years for—she went with Orlando first, in my place. When the accident happened at the shopping center, Orlando still carried Cecilia into the emergency stairwell first. A falling stone column crushed my ankle. Lying in that hospital bed, I finally lost it. Orlando only frowned at me. "Nadia, stop making a scene. Cecilia is just your stand-in. She faces the danger first so you can stay safe." He sounded so sincere. He took my hand and pressed it to his lips. "Nadia, try to understand how hard this is for me. I can't let you get hurt again. I just can't." That devotion of his made me give in one more time. I never imagined that even at my own wedding—the day that mattered more to me than anything—Cecilia would wear my wedding dress before I did. I can make do with something secondhand. But I don't want a secondhand man.

In New York’s Upper East Side, there were two heirs. One was a speed-obsessed daredevil dominating the racetracks, the other was a brilliant actuary who controlled the flow of capital. Born into powerful families and polar opposites in temperament, yet they grew up side by side as each other’s only best friend. They had fought over girls and bickered endlessly over racing bets. However, at fifteen, there was one thing they did in perfect unison. They each put on the same roughly carved bronze badge. They were trinkets Mia had idly made during a craft class, marked only by a faint “M” scratched on the back. Back then, Mia was seated in the last row of the classroom. Her background was a complete mystery to everyone. Yet they wore that badge for ten whole years. Whether standing on the F1 podium or locking in billion-dollar trades at the exchange, the cheap little badge on their chests never changed. Until Ella showed up. She was the cherished daughter of a rising conglomerate family. She hand-stitched two gold-thread fabric patches and gifted them to them. The patches looked so ordinary they looked like the kind of trinket you would find three for a dollar at a flea market. And yet, they both replaced their bronze badges with her plain patches. Mia did not say anything. She simply folded away an old newspaper clipping with a photo of the three of them smiling together. That night, she called her father in Sicily. Her voice was emotionless. “Papa, I accept the marriage arrangement.”

My marriage to Dante Moretti, the heir to the Moretti family, was arranged when we were kids. But after my father died, he publicly refused to marry me. Three times. Each time, he used his dead mother as an excuse, and I couldn't argue. The third time, I walked in on him with some starlet on the anniversary of his mother’s death, and I overheard him sneer: “A boring woman like Isabella? Who the hell would want her?” “So desperate to marry me. It’s pathetic.” I looked down at my white wedding dress, turned on my heel, and knocked on his father's door. Later, on the day I moved into the Moretti estate, I ran into Dante. He thought I was there to force his hand and ran his mouth. But he had no idea I was already his new stepmother.

Everyone knew Andre Marino as the Don who kept business separate from his personal life. I couldn't call him unless it was business. If someone wronged me, I couldn't ask him to step in. We'd been together for five years. He'd taken a bullet for me. When we were trapped with no way out, he'd given up his chance at rescue so I could get out. He'd done everything a man could do for someone he trusted with his life. But I couldn't walk in and out of his study as I pleased. Every time I needed him, I had to wait outside the door for a long time. Andre said the study was his private space, and he had to keep things above board. I had to wait at the door for a full hour so everyone could see he wasn't playing favorites. Only then could I knock and go in. Then one day, I came back from picking up a shipment and stood outside his study, waiting to report in. The wind had turned my nose bright red. His second-in-command, Nora Russo, walked straight in, wearing his trench coat. She glanced back at me and said casually, "Annie, don't blame the Don for not letting you come and go as you please. He's big on rules. Business is business. Personal matters stay out of it." "Then why can you come and go?" I demanded. Nora twisted her family signet ring on her ring finger, a knowing look in her eyes. "Our families go way back. We've always been allies, always fought side by side. He's even got my last name tattooed on his chest." One of the men behind me gave a fake cough. She scoffed. "What? Am I wrong? She has no say in the business, and on the personal side, she can't even get through his door. Other than taking care of Andre's needs in bed, what good is she?" The door opened. It was obvious Nora had made herself at home. Pink, the color he hated most, now covered every wall. I stood frozen for a long time. Then, slowly, I let the question drop. If he couldn't give me the love I wanted, I knew what to do. I'd go to the man who was willing to make an exception for me.