Plot Twists Mafia Short Stories & Bias Regret Novels

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."

My adopted sister, Bianca, screwed up. Big time. It was at a charity dinner. Hosted by the Vitiellos. The most powerful Mafia Family on the East Coast. She spilled hot coffee on the Vitiello boss's sister. Right into her eyes. Almost blinded her. Massimo went ballistic. He’s the cold-blooded Don who runs the whole damn coast. He wanted a hostage from our family, the Costas. Within five days. Or it was war. My mother grabbed my hands. Her eyes were red and filled with pain. “Bianca didn’t mean it. She’s terrified. She’s hiding in her room, shaking so hard she can’t breathe. Valeria, you're tough. You can survive this. Just go to Massimo for a few days. I swear I'll get you back.” My twin brother sighed. “That Don is a psycho. Bianca is too delicate. She wouldn’t last a day. You’ve always been the strong one. Just… do this for her.” Even my fiancé, the man I’ve been engaged to for years, held me. He whispered, “Baby, just take the heat for her. Once this all blows over, I’ll give you the biggest wedding you’ve ever dreamed of.” What a joke. I wasn’t even at the party. But I was the one paying the price. So I gave them what they wanted. I walked right into the Vitiello estate. And then they regretted it. They cried, and begged me to come back.

On the first day of our honeymoon, Dante Moretti, the Mafia Don I had just married, and his childhood sweetheart left me at a gas station. They had driven for twenty minutes before realizing I wasn’t in the car. When he called, panic filled his voice. “Ariana, why didn’t you get back in? I thought you were in the back seat.” Bianca’s voice came clearly through the phone. “She isn’t a child, Dante. You don’t have to turn around for her.” I laughed bitterly. I had lost count of how many times he had left me behind for his childhood sweetheart. When I remained silent, irritation crept into his voice. “Don’t start, Ariana. I’ve sent one of the guards to pick you up. Just wait for the guard.” In the past, I would have forgiven him and waited. But this time, I didn’t want to. I canceled the rest of our honeymoon and removed the wedding ring I had worn for less than three days. Then I called my father for the first time in five years. “Father, I want to come home.” His voice trembled. “Ariana, the Bellini family has been waiting for you.”

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.

As the only daughter of the Rossi family, I had three exceptional men handpicked and raised by my mother as potential husbands. Once, they had gone to extraordinary lengths to win my affection. One bought me a centuries-old watchtower on the Sicilian coast. Another presented me with a one-of-a-kind black diamond ring. Then Blair, the daughter of our longtime butler, returned from boarding school, and all three men became obsessed with her. They adored her kindness, her innocence, and her delicate nature. Meanwhile, they condemned me for the coldness and ruthlessness I had developed after growing up in a world of blood and violence. Once they had broken my heart beyond repair, I washed my hands of the three ungrateful bastards and agreed to marry Vito Capello, the Don of the Capello family, who had been left in a vegetative state. The news shattered their pride. What I couldn’t understand was why they still thought I was playing hard to get—even after I became Vito’s Donna.

When I returned to the Costello family as the long-lost daughter, I was dressed in my adoptive sister's hand-me-downs, and the family driver came only for her. Still, they felt guilty toward the daughter they had raised in my absence. So when the government rolled out the Fairness System, they registered the whole family before I could blink. My father exhaled with relief. "With this system enforcing absolute equality, Brittany won't ever have to suffer again." My mother took my hand, her voice leaving no room for argument. "You came home and stole everything that belonged to her. That's not fair to Brittany." My brother didn't bother hiding his contempt. "I only acknowledge one sister. You already got more than you deserve. Don't push your luck." I ate leftovers while she had private chefs. I sweated in a closet while she slept in a custom-designed suite. I almost laughed. When the system went live, they were the ones who fell apart.

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.

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?

In my first life, I believed love was salvation. I tore my future apart for two men who had grown up beside me—Marcus Black and Damian Knight. I chose one of them, only to be abandoned on my wedding day for Elena Rivers. My grandmother died that same day, shattered by grief. When I was at my lowest, the other man took my hand and promised he would never betray me. I believed him. I married him. And slowly, my world went cold. I thought his distance was regret. I thought my failing health was fate. Until the night I was dying, and I watched him run past me—to save Elena, whose injuries were nothing more than a scratch. That was when I understood. My life had never been a love story. It was a carefully scripted game. After my death, I learned the truth: Marcus and Damian had already written their wills, leaving everything to Elena Rivers. They had sabotaged my education, manipulated my career, and even fabricated a chronic illness to keep me weak, dependent, and easy to control. They never wanted me to succeed. They only wanted me quiet—so Elena could shine. But fate gave me another chance. This time, I tore up my admission letter to Harvard. This time, I rejected their confessions before they could cage me again. In this life, I will not be the woman they use, betray, or discard. I will live for myself. And I will never walk the same path twice.

My father, Don Vincenzo Cassano, added me to a private group chat. "La Famiglia." It was an accident. There were only three other people in it. My father. My mother. And a strange woman he had saved as "Our Treasure." They were planning a party for her. A lavish birthday party. And tomorrow? Tomorrow was my birthday. The tenth one in a row they’d forgotten. My mother’s text: "The ballroom must be draped in crystal. Make her a real princess." My father sent a wire. "Money is no object. Just don't let Aurelia find out. We don't need the drama." I screenshotted everything. A bitter sting in my chest. Fine. If they don’t love me, I'll burn their little stage to the ground. Just then, my brother Nico messaged me. The golden boy. The heir to the throne. He sent a screenshot of his own chat. Nico to Dad: "Is the 'surprise' for Aurelia ready? You promised me. This is the last time you lie to her like this."

"Are you crazy, Donna Gallo?!" The doctor, Corey Dickson, stared at the plastic surgery proposal I had given him. He said in a trembling voice, "Don Gallo would never allow you to do something like this." I smiled softly. "He's too busy having an affair with a world-famous celebrity. He doesn't have time to notice me." Corey was taken aback. I looked at my wedding picture on the wall. Stefan was hugging me while looking at me with great tenderness in his eyes, but just yesterday, I watched him lead that celebrity into our bedroom. He pressed her down in bed as she stared at the silver handgun at the end of the bed and panted, "Aren't you afraid that I was sent here by the enemy to seduce you, Don Gallo? Are you sure you want to put that gun away?" Stefan laughed in a low voice. "It'd be worth it to die in your arms." That gun never left his side. This was the first time he put it aside for someone else. That was when I realized that this was the end of my marriage. It was time for me to leave. I had to find a way to leave this city, where the Don had eyes everywhere, without getting caught.

I have been with Leone Donato, the don to a Mafia family, for four years. During those four years, he lets me live in the family estate but rarely tells me anything about the family's affairs. I fool myself into believing it's simply his cold, guarded nature. As the don to a Mafia family, he has to be cautious. Many of his secrets aren't ones he can easily share with others. But then, on the very day we are supposed to apply for a marriage license, I receive a screenshot of a private Mafia family group chat. "Ladies, I hear Leone's childhood sweetheart, Camilla Conti, is back in the country. Do you think Leone will still apply for a marriage license with Isola Munari tomorrow?" "Hard to say. After all, the family trust reserves 15% of the family business's profits for Camilla. All Isola gets is the family agreeing to accept her as the Donna and let her attend family meetings." Someone asks, "Then why exactly does Leone want to marry Isola?" Someone replies in the screenshot, "Because she's obedient, I guess. After all, for Leone's sake, she turns down an offer from Bellamare's top research institute. She even drives herself to a private clinic while suffering from a high fever. "Leone's exact words are, 'Isola can't live without me, and she doesn't care about any of that anyway.'" Obedient… So, in the eyes of the family, I am nothing more than an obedient lover. As I stare at those words, I slip off my diamond ring and place it on the partially signed prenuptial agreement. Then, I open my email and type, "Professore Ferrante, I've changed my mind. If the position at the research institute is still available, I'll join it this time."

My husband was working over the holidays, again. He’d been sent out of town to oversee one of the Family’s dock operations and a string of gambling houses.. I decided to buy a ticket and surprise him. Only business class was left. Staring at the five-figure price, I gritted my teeth and spent a year’s worth of savings. Then I couldn’t even figure out how to pull down the damn tray table. The socialite seated next to me let out a cold laugh. “Never flown business class before?” I forced an awkward smile. “My apologies. You must be… important. You have that aura.” “Oh, me? No. The man who keeps me is important. He’d charter a private jet if I asked. Business class is practically slumming it.” I blinked. “A… keeper? That’s rare.” “Not really. I’m his secretary. I mess up a lot. Cost him a fortune. He yells at me until I cry. And then, well… crying leads to other things.” She winked. “You know how it is.” “Funny,” I said, my voice tight. “My husband has an assistant who helps him manage accounts for the docks. She’s always messing things up too.” “You’re married?” She looked me over, head to toe. “My man has a wife about your age. Says he’s sick of her. That touching her is boring. Says I’m more exciting just brushing my hair out of my face.” She leaned closer. “I told him I wanted to see him for New Year’s. So he told the wife he had to work.” The diamond on her finger caught the light. It was identical to the wedding band I’d lost. My body went cold. No. Matteo was just a low-level enforcer. A foot soldier the Family occasionally trusted with small operations—dock shipments, backroom gambling, nothing more. When did he become a Don?

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.

Everyone knew Dario Moretti loved me more than life itself. Five years ago, he was an heir who had lost everything, hunted by his enemy. He was badly injured, and I hid him in my parents' wine cellar. The Cavallo family made us pay for helping him. They burned down the vineyard and killed my parents in the fire. The day Dario reclaimed control of the Moretti family, the first thing he did was lead me into the main house by the hand. When someone sneered that I was just a vineyard owner's daughter, he had them thrown out on the spot. At our wedding, in front of the entire Moretti family, he promised I would be the only woman he would ever marry. In our five years of marriage, I went through 11 rounds of fertility treatment. Every time a cycle failed, he took it harder than I did. So when I saw Viola Cavallo, the eldest daughter of our sworn enemies, standing beside him at the private clinic, eight months pregnant, my first thought wasn't that he was cheating. The truth was more absurd than an affair. The baby was Dario's. But he had never touched Viola. All he wanted was an heir for the Moretti family, so he'd arranged for Viola to carry a child conceived through IVF. And my 11 "failed" rounds of fertility treatment over the past five years? Every one of them had been faked. Five years ago, during my first pregnancy, I hemorrhaged and nearly died on the operating table. From that day on, Dario secretly instructed the doctors not to transfer any embryo into my body without his written permission. He didn't see it as a betrayal. In his mind, I was his only wife and the only woman he loved. All he'd done was keep me from dying and find another woman to give the Moretti family its heir. That was when I finally understood. The biggest problem between us had never been that he didn't love me. That night, I texted an old friend. "Seven days from now, help me fake my death and get me out of here."

Five years into my marriage to the Don, Ives Moretti, he left me for dead during a shootout to get his mistress, Isabella, to safety. I woke up three days later in a private hospital room. No apology. Ives was cold. “You’re my wife. You knew the risks. Stop being so dramatic.” Then, he added, “Isabella’s different. She’s fragile. She needed me.” That was followed by three months of the silent treatment. Like always, he expected me to be the one to break, to come crawling back begging for forgiveness. Three months later, I handed the Irish deal to Isabella on a silver platter. The big one I’d spent half a year building myself. Ives thought it was a peace offering. He smiled, a rare, genuine thing these days. “I knew you’d come around. As a reward, we’ll go to Vegas. I know you’ve always wanted to go.” The next day, Isabella whined about being bored, and he broke his promise. He took her to Vegas instead. Told me it was “urgent family business.” This time, I didn’t cry. Didn’t make a scene. Ives was pleased I was being so understanding. He had no idea I was already cutting all ties to the Moretti family. That he’d already signed the divorce papers. I was free.

The school boxing match. My son Leo’s gloves were lined with broken glass. I carried him from the ring. Blood was everywhere, staining the canvas crimson. And Isabella, the monster behind it all, just stood there smirking. A snake's smile. She dragged her son over, then slapped me. Hard. Again and again. She tried to force me to my knees. "Some gutter trash like you… thinks he can challenge the Falcone heir? This is what happens. Believe me, I say the word, and you disappear. Poof." I just raised an eyebrow. The Falcone family has one heir this generation. My son, Leo. So when did a Falcone become gutter trash? I wiped the blood from my lip. I called the Don—the man my father made. "I hear the Falcone family has a new heir." Let's see who has the nerve to touch the old Don's grandson.

Five years into my marriage to Dante Moretti, the Don of the Chicago Outfit, the entire underworld knew he loved me more than life itself. He’d had a violin—for me—tattooed right next to his family crest, a symbol of loyalty that could never be erased. Until I got the photo from his mistress. A cocktail waitress, sprawled naked in his arms, her skin marred by the dark bruises of rough sex. She had scrawled her name right next to the violin he’d gotten for me. And my husband had let her. "Dante says only being inside me makes him feel like a man anymore. You can’t even get him hard anymore, can you, sweet Alessia? Maybe it’s time to step aside." I didn't reply. I just made a single call. “I need a new identity. And a plane ticket out.”

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.

On the day I was supposed to get matching tattoos with Zach Cross, I waited at the studio from sunrise until nightfall. The tattoo artist glanced at me nervously. “Miss Annie, is the Godfather still coming? Maybe we should reschedule.” I lowered my eyes and forced a smile. “He promised he’d be here. I’ll wait a little longer.” Two hours later, Zach finally arrived. He was not alone. Julie Williams walked in behind him. She was carrying his jacket. When she saw me sitting in the tattoo chair, she offered an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Annie. I had no idea you two had a tattoo appointment today. Otherwise, I would’ve never asked Zach to pick me up from the airport.” Zach walked right past me. He glanced around the empty studio and said, “Let's begin.” Before I could say a word, he pointed at the tattoo chair and turned to Julie. “You first.” Julie froze for a second. She glanced at me, then reluctantly took the seat. The tattoo artist turned to look at me. Standing off to the side, I overheard Zach’s men whispering among themselves. “After all these years, Miss Julie is still the perfect match for the Godfather.” “Yeah. It’s a shame things didn’t work out back then.” I looked at Zach. I knew he had heard every word. However, instead of denying it, he turned to me and said coldly, “Julie’s here today. Watch your attitude. Don’t embarrass me.” My gaze drifted to his left hand’s ring finger. It was still bare. He once told me he would hide my name inside the petals of a rose tattoo—a secret only the two of us would ever know about. I worked with the tattoo artist through seven different revisions to get the design just right. When he proposed, he held my hand and said, “The most painful mark I’ll ever wear will belong to you alone.” I put on a bitter smile. Unfortunately, none of the marks he carried had ever truly belonged to me.