Plot Twists Mafia Short Stories & Bias Regret Novels

On our third wedding anniversary, Lorenzo Falcone came back from Sicily with a chest of jewels. Without thinking, he slid the chest toward my sister Vella and told her to pick first. I stared, eyes wide, and the disappointment slipped out before I could stop it: "Lorenzo. It's our anniversary. Don't I get to choose first?" He faltered for just a second. Then he said: "Lily, as a Donna, you should know how to be gracious. You can't always act like a little girl." I'd heard that for over twenty years. Since I was a child, the eldest daughter of the family, I'd long learned to step aside. Give up the horse I loved. Give up my grandfather's keepsake. Give up the chance to study abroad. Give up the voice that should've been mine. My father told me to be sensible. My mother told me to protect my little sister. When I met Lorenzo, I really thought—foolishly—that I was done giving things up. He'd pull me behind him when the gunshots rang out. He'd hold my hand when the nightmares jolted me awake. He'd say it in front of everyone, so sure of himself: "Lily is my only choice." But I was wrong. Not long after we got married, Vella moved in with us. She said she couldn't bear to be apart from me. Lorenzo promised he would treat her like his own flesh and blood, give her a little extra care. But somewhere along the way, extra attention turned into her first—without him even noticing. After she'd made her picks, she handed me the leftover brooch. Old. Tarnished. "This one suits you, sis." I looked at her. Forced a bitter smile. "Take it all. I don't want any of it." Quietly, I slipped my wedding ring off my finger and tucked it into my bag. Three days from now, I'll place it beside the divorce papers on his pillow. And then I'll walk away. From him. From this city that was never mine to begin with.

My mother, Diane Sutton, was helping me into the bridal suite when she suddenly stumbled forward. Someone had smeared strong adhesive across the red carpet. Her shoe came off, and four of her toes poked through her torn stocking. My father, Martin Sutton, rushed over to help her, but as soon as he turned, everyone saw the sticky note on his back. "Clearance! 99 cents!" The room fell silent. Chiara Lombardi, Enzo Valli's assistant, couldn't hold back anymore. She burst out laughing, then said, "Look how embarrassing they look! I hereby declare the 100th test officially underway!" I froze. "Wasn't it already over?" Three years ago, Enzo told me he wanted to marry me. His father, Don Marco Valli, respected me as an attorney but believed my family background made me unfit to marry his son. So Marco and his advisor came up with 99 tests and put Chiara in charge of them. They hoped I'd eventually give up and call off the wedding myself. Over the next three years, Chiara replaced my toothpaste with mustard, swapped my shampoo for depilatory cream, and even released rats into my room at night. Whenever I felt like I couldn't take it anymore, Enzo would pull me into his arms and murmur, "Nora, just hang on a little longer. Once the tests are over, I promise no one will ever hurt you again." He could not openly defy the procedure the advisor had set, but he never once bothered to ask what Chiara had put me through. As long as we got married in the end, what I endured along the way didn't matter. Last night was the 99th test. I thought the nightmare was finally over. Then Chiara announced, "You passed. But your parents haven't! You're going to be the Donna one day. Your parents represent the Family too. If they can't handle something this minor, what good are they?" I turned to Enzo for help. He ruffled my hair as if soothing a petulant child. "Do as Chiara says. Just hang on a little longer." I'd put up with this for three years. I was done enduring it.

When I walked out of the hospital clutching the miscarriage report, dazed and hollow, my husband Enzo called. "Feeling any better? I'll send a car for you. Corinne, you know that as my Donna, you have to follow the family rules. I can't bend them just because of your old stomach issues." "And don't blame Elara. She was only doing what she was told." I answered flatly, "Okay." He laughed. "That's my good girl." What Enzo didn't know was that it wasn't just a stomachache. I'd lost the baby. Three hours earlier, when the pain had become unbearable and I tried to leave, Elara had stopped me: "Ten more minutes, Corinne. You shouldn't put Enzo in a difficult position over something so trivial." Enzo. She was always bringing up Enzo in front of me. But the moment I learned I'd lost my child, I no longer wanted to be his obedient Mrs. Moretti. In ten days, I would vanish from his world completely.

After five years by Leonardo Rizzo's side through bloodshed and gunfire, I had finally made it to our wedding day. In those five years, my surgical skill had earned me a reputation throughout Chicago. I had saved Leonardo more times than I could count. But as I stood at the altar in my wedding dress, he walked straight past me and slipped my ring onto his adopted sister Julia Rizzo's finger. My whole body went rigid. Leonardo looked back at me. There was a hint of apology in his voice, but he made no move to take back the ring. "Baby, when Julia and I were children, I promised she'd be my bride at my first wedding. As the Don of the Rizzo family, I can't break a promise. You'll understand, won't you?" Julia smiled and chimed in, "Sofia, we made this promise ten years before you came into his life. Every elder in the family witnessed it. Besides, this is Leonardo's first wedding. He needs a practice run. I'm just helping him rehearse. You understand, don't you?" They exchanged a smile. Suddenly, everything I'd fought for these past five years meant nothing. I tore off my veil and stepped down from the altar. If I had never been his first choice, then I was done with him for good.

All of New York knew that Caspian Solis, the Don of the Solis family, worshipped the ground I walked on. Then an ambush left him with amnesia. Not only did he forget me and our twenty years together, but he also mistook his secretary, Ivy, for the love of his life. He tossed our matching bracelets and stared at me with dead eyes. "You are not my type. Ivy is the woman I love." My heart shattered. I tried everything to help him remember. Until I overheard a conversation between him and his right-hand man: "Don, how long are you going to keep this up? What if your wife finds out you are faking the amnesia?" Caspian exhaled a cloud of cigar smoke, completely unbothered. "She won't." "I just want to have some fun while I am young. Eating the same meal every day gets stale, doesn't it?" "When I have had my fill, I will tell her my memory came back. After all, Lorelai is the one I truly love." Standing outside the door, I felt violently sick. A thought sparked in my mind: If Caspian could fake amnesia to play me, why couldn't I? So, I accidentally fell down a flight of stairs. When I woke up, I locked eyes with Caspian's ally and biggest rival—Zane, the most feared Don in New York. I smiled and threw myself into his arms. "There you are, darling."

I stood beside Luca as he went from a poor boy to the most powerful man in Chicago. I saved him, and an explosion crushed my spine. I would never dance again. Later, I was diagnosed with late-stage cancer. In that time, a woman appeared at his side. Beautiful, clever, from a powerful family. She could stand beside him, sit in on his deals, solve his problems. And I could only sit in a wheelchair. Everyone said I was holding Luca back. I thought so too. So I left him, meaning to go and die alone

The Cecil family has a century-old rule: on the day a daughter marries, her father gives her a list. It lists the names of twelve bodyguards her father has trained for her since she was a child. They will serve the bride for life as her last line of defense in her husband's household. My twin sister Valentina and I married on the same day. At the ceremony, she held the contract, which was covered in red handprints. Our father patted her shoulder. "I chose every one of them for you. If anyone mistreats my darling girl, these men will make them pay." Our mother beamed. "Valentina will always be the treasure of our family." All I received was a single flimsy, worthless sheet of paper. It didn't even bear a seal. "Father, where is my list?" His gaze darted away for a moment. Then he looked back at me, his expression brazen and self-righteous. "Your sister is marrying Don Moretti's oldest son. The Moretti family is one of Sicily's most powerful Mafia families. Of course she needs more men. "I added your twelve men to her list. She needs twenty-four guards to make sure no one looks down on the Cecil family." Our mother backed him up. "The outsider you're marrying can't even fire a gun. Why would you need bodyguards? Stop thinking only of yourself." I looked at the worthless sheet of paper and smiled bitterly. In their eyes, I was nothing more than a disposable pawn.

My husband, Cillian Burke. King of the New York underworld. He runs his life on strict orders. Every second counts. Break his rules for more than three minutes? He strips my access. Instantly. Not a single second of grace. Today is our anniversary. I walk into the core lab three minutes late. Morning sickness. And just like that, I lose the purity test for my new drug. Liliana Croft is already sitting at my station. Taking my place. This is the fourth time. I fall one step behind. He punishes me without hesitation. He gives my world to Liliana. The first time. A Family meeting. I was two minutes late checking the books. He flew to the Vegas underground trade. He took Liliana instead of me. Second time. Prenatal checkup. Five minutes late. He took Liliana to our lakeside safe house. We were supposed to spend the weekend there. Third time. Morning sickness. Ninety seconds late coming downstairs. He left with Liliana. They went to a family dinner. Only core members were allowed. "You always ruin my schedule, Ava. I gave you a time. You are my wife. You are also a Burke. Obey my rules. Absolutely." I stand alone outside the lab. A sudden cramp hits my stomach. My hands shake. I call Cillian. No answer. I call again. No answer. Third time. He finally picks up. "The alarm terrified Liliana. She is unstable. I am not leaving her. Call the Family doctor yourself. Ava, listen to me. Stop wasting my time with petty drama." I look down. Dark blood spreads at my feet. I drop my phone. Cillian. Your ironclad rules never bend for me. Not once. Fine. My turn. I am cutting you out of my world. Forever.

The day I was born, a fortune teller prophesied that the Goddess of Luck had sent me into the world to bring my family good fortune. So two families took me in from the slums, each claiming I was their long-lost daughter. While the Calvi family's adopted daughter exhausted herself trying to cover their losses, I walked into a casino and won every chip at the table. While the Cara family's adopted daughter sacrificed most of their men to hold their territory, I fired a single shell and destroyed the enemy's command center. Each time, I turned the family's fortunes around and rose to become the Don's most valued heir. It wasn't until the DNA results came back that I learned I was the biological daughter of Sicily's most powerful family. On my first day back at the estate, the family's beloved adopted daughter took one look at me and burst into tears. Through sheer carelessness, she had saddled the family with a ruinous contract and staggering losses. "Did you come to laugh at me? I know I've always been stupid. I'm always causing trouble for the family. You have every right to want me gone. "But before you send me away, could I hug my mother and brother one last time? I really do love them." Moved to tears, the Donna signed her own estate over to Ellie on the spot. My brother stubbed out his cigar on the rosewood table and glared at me as if I were his enemy. "I have only one sister in this life, and it's her. Go back to the slums." Even my fiancé, famous for his lack of interest in women, took her side. "Do the princesses of Sicily's great families really enjoy bullying the weak that much? In that case, the ceasefire in the west is over. My men will cross the river tomorrow morning." I smiled faintly and stroked her hair with apparent affection. "Don't worry. Of course I won't send you away. It's just a shame that after Father went to so much trouble to bring me back, I'll be leaving before the family's financial shortfall is resolved. "After all, I'm not one of thos

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.

I was alone at Maria Hospital for a prenatal checkup when someone added me to a group chat I didn't recognize. Everyone in it was family or a close friend. My foster sister, Linda, had posted a video with the caption, "Enzo is such a great new dad!" In the video, my husband, Enzo, held a newborn and gently played with the baby's tiny hand. The baby's hospital wristband said Maria Hospital. Everyone in the chat was celebrating the birth. No one noticed I was there. My brother Luke wrote, "Congratulations! This family is finally complete." I said nothing. I saved the video. The moment it finished saving, a notification popped up. Linda had removed me from the group. I steadied myself and called Enzo on his private line. "Enzo, where are you?" "Baby, I'm at the airport in Los Angeles. I'm flying back to you soon. "The doctor told me yesterday that you have mild gestational diabetes. I had a nutritionist put together some meals for you. Make sure you eat them." I stood outside Linda's room, staring through my tears at Enzo's back. "Is that so? Do airports have hospital rooms now?"

As the Don of the Renzetti family, Antonio lived by one rule. Time is money. I watched him pull the trigger on one of his own men for showing up thirty seconds late to a meeting. He was just as stingy with his time when it came to me, even though I was his fiancée. I was always the one who accommodated him. I waited four hours for him at the bridal salon, and all I got was a single cold line over the phone. "Elena, sitting through a fitting is a waste of my time. Go on your own." I put a smile on for the salon staff and finished the fitting alone. That day, I was on a job at the underground casino when I saw Antonio—who was supposed to be at a meeting down at the docks—standing in front of the new bartender, Franca Bellini. "The ice for a Long Island iced tea has to be chipped by hand. I'm afraid this will take a while." Franca clumsily shook the cocktail shaker. I waited for Antonio to turn her down flat. Instead, he pulled up a stool and sat down. "That's fine. I have all the time in the world." Half an hour later my phone buzzed in my pocket. [Job done? Too many attacks lately. Go back to the estate. Don't wait for me.] I stared at the cold instructions, then looked down at Antonio. He had willingly spent half an hour waiting for one drink and still had enough patience to laugh with Franca. I laughed at myself. Antonio, I'm done waiting for you.

On Christmas Eve, my mother sent a long gift list to our family group chat. It had everything from sports cars to diamond necklaces. I was full of anticipation, but when the gifts were finally handed out, I realized the sports car was for my brother, Luca. The rest—the diamonds, the Hermès bags—were all for Mia. Mia was our family’s adopted daughter. Her father used to work for my Papa and took a bullet for him. Because of that, the Sterling family had raised Mia as their own flesh and blood for ten years. Not a single gift was for me. When I asked my mother about it, she stated the obvious: "Julian is your fiancé. He’ll have something prepared for you." "Mia is so pitiful for losing her father because of us. We have to give her the most love, right?" I wanted to scream that I needed gifts from my family too, but I kept my mouth shut. I looked over at Julian, only to find he hadn't gotten me anything either. Instead, he was smiling, handing Mia a custom gown he bought for her. Sitting on the sofa at the edge of the grand hall, watching them, it finally hit me: there was no place for me here. Looking down at my phone, I signed an overseas deployment contract with Doctors Without Borders to a field hospital in Colombia. Five years. No returning home. I decided to leave for good, and never come back.

At my pre-wedding blowout, my sister Julia Gallo suddenly challenged my fiancé Lorenzo, heir to the next Don of the Bianchi family, to a "big bet." "Let me guess how many candies you've got in your hand." "Guess right, and whatever my forfeit is, you do it." "Guess wrong, and you're covering all the leftover booze." "I'm guessing... five." She said. Lorenzo opened his right hand. Three. Julia tipped her head back to down the rest of the wine. But then— "You win." Lorenzo pulled his left hand from his pocket. "There are two more. Right here." Julia smiled at him. But tears shimmered in her eyes. She unfolded the note she'd written in advance. "Then I'm sorry. I didn't think I'd actually guess it right off the top of my head." "Your wedding is postponed. Three years." The room went dead silent. Lorenzo just kept smiling. "We've been betting since the day we first touched family business. When have we ever backed out?" "A bet's a bet." This wasn't the first time Lorenzo used me as collateral. I looked up at the clock—past midnight. My phone buzzed. A message from a familiar number. "Happy birthday." "You're not married at twenty-seven, you marry me. Still on?" I replied: "A bet's a bet. Three days, and I'll honor our deal."

My parents came all the way from a small town in Texas to New York just to talk about our wedding plans. But my fiancé—the Rossi family's Don—was late. My mom smiled, trying to comfort me. "Traffic's probably just bad. It's okay, your dad and I can wait a bit longer." That "wait" lasted three hours. I called him a fifth time before he finally picked up. Marcello didn't even sound apologetic. "Someone broke into Valerie's apartment. She's terrified and won't stop crying. I have to stay and calm her down." I went quiet. This wasn't the first time. Valerie always found some excuse to drag Marcello away from me, and Marcello always gave me the same line: "She's like a little sister to me. Stop making a big deal out of nothing." Because I was just a civilian with a normal background, our marriage had been mocked and questioned by his world from day one. I used to tell myself I could tough it out, all because I loved him. But now, my mom looked at me with pure worry. "Cora, do you really have to marry him?" "I just feel like... with his attitude, and who he is... if he ever hurts you, we won't be able to protect you at all." My dad let out a heavy sigh. My nails dug hard into my palms. Mom was right. I stood up abruptly. "The wedding is off. Let's go."

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.

I'd made a deal with my childhood friend Damian to apply to Southern State University together. The day before the application deadline, he secretly changed my application to a community college. An hour earlier, my campus anonymous wall had received a submission— "I changed my childhood friend's college application to a community college." "She's too outstanding. So outstanding that everyone around her feels inferior. I did this to teach her some humility." "Besides, I know she can't leave me. So we'll still be in the same city, and I'll help her fix these flaws." After tracing the IP of that anonymous post, I realized the person whose college application had been changed was me. I didn't confront him. I didn't cry. I just quietly changed my application to Harvard. Damian was certain I couldn't leave him. He tried to control my life. But he forgot—I am the princess of the Moretti family. We were never meant to belong to the same world.

I'd been married to Lucas, the Don of the Mitchell family—the biggest crime syndicate in the country—for six years when I found out he'd given my own daughter to his savior to raise. I was about to confront him when he beat me to it, asking for a divorce. His savior didn't have much time left. Her dying wish was to become his Donna. "She ended up like this because she saved me. Her last wish is just to be my Donna. You understand, don't you?" "Don't worry. You'll always be my only Donna. Once this is over, we'll remarry right away." I'd lost count of how many times he'd sacrificed me for her. So I nodded calmly and signed the divorce papers. Seven years of love. Nine hundred and ninety-nine disappointments. I was done standing by his side while he repaid his debts. I sent one message: "Help me plan a fake death. A plane crash." The day he slid the Donna's ring onto his savior's finger, I boarded that plane. If he wanted to marry another woman, then— I didn't want him anymore.

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.”

On the way to my wedding, our car was ambushed. The guards rushed me and Camilla to our family's private clinic. I was bleeding heavily. Blood completely soaked my bridal gown. My mother Alessia holds absolute power over the family. She took one cold look at me. Then she turned around and called in the top trauma team. She made them examine Camilla over and over, all for a minor scrape on Camilla's forearm from a stray bullet. "Camilla's wound is in plain sight," Alessia snapped. "If this leaves an ugly scar, how will she ever stand among high society?" I begged her to stay. She just brushed me off without a second thought. "You are my flesh and blood. You should be tougher than this. If I save you first, the men will think I am playing favorites with family." "Once I take care of Camilla, I will see to you." She walked away without looking back once. I could feel my life slipping away from me. Weakly, I grabbed Dominic. He had just stripped off his leather gloves. "Dominic, save me... the broken steel beam from the door stabbed right into my chest..." Before I could finish, he shoved my bloody fingers away with pure disgust in his eyes. "You were curled up in the reinforced armored back seat. Camilla was in the front passenger seat with zero cover. How could you be hurt worse than her?" "Gianna, drop the sick jealousy. Do you have to fight Camilla for attention every damn time?" He turned and walked straight into the sterile trauma room. He forgot. When the gunfire erupted, he was the one who yanked the steering wheel to shield Camilla next to him. He swung the car around. He made the back seat take the full hit from the truck. I took every ounce of the deadly impact meant for her. Alessia even cut off the ER doctor during his critical report. She yelled in his face. She accused him of acting along with me to beg for attention. Then she ordered everyone to treat only Camilla's "severe trauma." My vision began to darken. The twisted steel beam bit deep into my ribs.