เรื่องสั้นแนวBias Mafia และนิยาย Regret

The day after my sister broke up with her mafia boyfriend, she went off on vacation to clear her head. She swore she'd find a man even better than her ex, and she sent me a whole stack of profiles of good-looking guys. She wanted me to help her pick. I was about to tap the screen when Dante snatched the phone away, his brow furrowing as he let out a soft laugh. "You are my Donna! Don't pick up her bad habits." Before I could get a good look, Dante deleted every last photo. I explained, "She's not really like that. She was with that boyfriend for eight years, and he hurt her too deeply." "She kept him like a treasure. Even I never got to meet him." Dante raised an eyebrow and, a little stiffly, told me, "Tomorrow I'm going to Sicily to handle Family business. You be good and stay home." I nodded and agreed, waiting for him to return. My sister happened to get back from her own trip right around the time he did. The moment she walked in, she couldn't wait to tell me how her ex had come back to propose to her. I smiled and congratulated her. But when she took out the engagement ring, my heart skipped a beat. That morning, I'd just happened to find a matching men's wedding ring inside Dante's suit.

I'm getting married soon—but not to my boyfriend of six years, Soren Cruz. He's the mafia boss based in Mehico and is currently busy "working" with his new underboss, Thea Ramirez. Lately, he's been so swamped with work that he completely forgot about me and our promise to get married on our sixth anniversary. At the Christmas party, he ordered Thea's favorite almond cake. He forgot I'm allergic to almonds. While his friends were messing around, a slice of cake hit me right in the face. I fainted on the spot. When I woke up, I told Mom I didn't want to marry Soren anymore. I'm going back.

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.

When Matteo Morandi divided up the territories, he let my cousin, Chloe Serra, choose first. As always. One was the deep-water port, a gold mine and our safest territory. The other was a stretch of abandoned, crumbling docks in the slums, where rival crews often traded gunfire. For the first time, I stepped forward before Chloe could choose. I pointed to the deep-water port on the map. "I want this one." Matteo rested a warm hand on my shoulder. His voice was gentle, but his words were cruel. "Chloe can't handle the slums. She needs to be in the safest place we've got. "Celia, the slums are more your speed." I was so angry I laughed out loud, but I didn't argue. Instead, my clenched fists slowly loosened. My uncle, Enzo Serra, liked to say Chloe was the Serra family's precious white dove, while I was the vicious dog born to fight in the mud. In his eyes, it was the perfect arrangement. The marriage alliance worked the same way. Matteo needed a respectable woman at his side to clean up his brutal reputation, so Chloe was the obvious choice. But Chloe cried and refused. She dreamed of an artist and a life in the sunshine. She would never marry a Sicilian butcher. So Uncle Enzo picked me. I'd taken a bullet for Matteo and known him for 12 years, yet I was still only ever his second choice. "Then give it all to Chloe. I'm done."

When I was fourteen, my brother—the Don—brought home an orphan girl to settle a debt of gratitude. From then on, my life within the Corleone family always took a backseat to hers. The girl framed me, claiming I was trying to poison her. My brother slapped me across the face and locked me in the attic. To make it up to her, he even gave her the position that was meant for me. This time, I didn't say a word. I just packed my bags and left. It took a few days for him to realize I hadn't returned to the family estate. Only then did he find out that I’d joined an international medical aid organization—and that I was never coming back to New York. After that, he completely broke down.

After I Took Three Bullets For Him, He Said He Was Just My Uncle I took three bullets for Don Lorenzo Moretti, the man I called my uncle. The last one nearly killed me. Only then did the family elders agree to name me Donna. But in the two weeks I lay unconscious, Lorenzo announced his engagement to Ava, the daughter of a family benefactor. The Rocci, my family, lost its power when I was ten. Ever since Lorenzo, a close friend of my father's, brought me to the Moretti estate, I was certain he would one day be my husband, despite our age gap. He always told me to find men my own age, but I just let it go. In my previous life, I crashed their engagement party, a decision that led to a miscarriage and my own violent death. But this is my second chance, and I have learned my lesson. I will reclaim the token of my love, accept my destiny as Donna, and offer myself in a marriage alliance far away in Sicily. Uncle, I finally understand. A young man is far more entertaining than an old one like you.

On the night of my engagement party, Luca Moretti walked his childhood sweetheart over to me. "Clara accidentally stained her dress," he said. "Let her borrow yours for a while." He added, "Everyone knows you're the main character tonight. It doesn't matter what you wear." I didn't bother objecting. The gown was already on her. I stood behind the half-closed back door in a borrowed black dress while his men laughed over their whiskey. "Luca, is your real fiancee going to lose it?" someone asked. Luca barely looked up from his glass. "Anna is going to be a Donna. She needs to learn grace." Another man snorted. "Besides, she's an orphan. Where's she gonna go without you?" Luca smiled. "She can't leave me." They didn't know I had never been an orphan. I had buried the Valenti name for five years because I wanted Luca to love me as Anna, not as the Valenti daughter. My father is the Mafia Chairman, the man every family answered to when the highest table met. That night, I took off the Moretti emerald ring, left it beside the guest book, and called home. "Papa, I’m not marrying Luca. Don't come to Chicago."

At an underground auction, Bianca Ferraro, the fiancee of Don Lucian Castellano, bought a single night of my services for five dollars. Everyone sneered that I was the cheapest woman in the world. Bianca just pointed at me, laughing so hard she shook. "Back then I pinned a traitor's label on her, and as punishment I sold her straight to her creditors." "As I recall, she went for a few dozen dollars." She swirled her glass, her smile turning more vicious. "Five years on, worn out and used up, of course she's lost her value." The guests on the yacht roared with laughter. Only the yacht's owner, Lucian Castellano, crushed the glass in his hand to powder with a sharp crack. Blood ran down his knuckles, but he seemed to feel no pain. He only stared at me. And I, in the bunny outfit Bianca had thrown at me, poured wine for the rich and powerful and angled for their tips as if nothing was wrong. The next second, he shot to his feet and seized my wrist. But before he could speak, I coldly pushed his hand away. "Don Castellano." "You have a fiancee. Do you want my services too?"

It's supposed to be a punishment, but it ends with me freezing to death in the freezer. My fiance, Carlo Vesta, also known as the heir of the Vesta family, only remembers that I exist three days later. Now, I'm just floating around while watching him hug my frozen corpse, his body trembling violently. I notice how broken his expression is, and soon, I witness him piecing together the truth that I've brought into my grave with me. It's too late, Carlo. But it's fine. I'm right here, watching you. I want to see how you're going to face the truth of you personally locking up the woman you love in her own grave.

The Ivanovas and the Vitales are well-known aristocratic families who have maintained everlasting friendship through generations. My name is Anastasia Ivanova. I have been the daughter of the Ivanovas for twenty years, only to discover just now that I was switched at birth. When I was swept out of the Ivanova’s mansion like rubbish, Lorenzo, the youngest son of the Vitale family, firmly picked me up in spite of all objections. Lorenzo always acted cold and distant toward me. I didn’t know why he came to take me into his car at that time. He whispered in my ear again and again, ‌"I’ve wanted you for a long time."‌ He pinned me against the leather seat, making me cry until my voice was hoarse. At that moment, I finally understood his coldness over the years was not indifference but restraint. Soon after, Lorenzo overrode all objections to marry me. His parents were vehemently against me, but Lorenzo directly stripped them of power and became the youngest godfather. Scarlett Montgomery tried to stop us from getting married, but Lorenzo canceled all her credit cards and threatened to send her away. I thought we would have a happy life. Three days before our wedding ceremony, he planned to send me abroad, claiming enemies might retaliate. But, I accidentally overheard him talking to Scarlett in the hallway at night. "Thank goodness. You tricked her into leaving until after I give birth. You’re so good to me!"‌ He kissed her cheek, ‌"I don’t want Anastasia know our affair. You must keep it secret."‌ Their dialogue made me devastated. But I didn’t confront him immediately. Instead, I quietly completed my immigration paperwork as a way to make a clean break with him.

Three nights before my wedding, our families played a “lucky key” game. Each woman drew a key to one of the gift cases. Everyone said the assignments were random. My key opened an empty case. Inside was a single card. THANK YOU FOR PLAYING. My fiancé, Damian Valenti, touched my shoulder. “Your luck has always been terrible.” My childhood friend, Luca Ferraro, lowered his voice. “Smile. Don’t let everyone think you’re a sore loser.” My half sister, Sienna, drew the grand prize. Her case held a vintage Valenti brooch, the Mediterranean vacation I had spent months planning, and a card Luca had written himself. Whatever happens, we will always protect you. I smiled for the photographs and returned my card to the empty case. It was only a game. Someone had to lose. Then I passed the club office and heard the coordinator checking the list. “Grand prize for Miss Sienna Russo. Empty case for Miss Alessandra Russo. Mr. Valenti, were those the correct assignments?” Damian paused. “Yes. Sienna would have cried if she had drawn the empty case. Alessandra can handle disappointment.” Luca laughed. “She always does. She’ll find a graceful way to explain it.” They had rigged the game because Sienna’s tears were inconvenient, while my disappointment was easy to ignore. I smiled, walked away, and decided to cancel the wedding scheduled for three days later. They could keep their rigged game. I was done playing.

Five years ago, I was his life and I thought we would be the end game until Rosalin, his new assistant, seeped into our life. It began with urgent late night meetings. Our dinner conversations, once filled with shared secrets and soft laughter, were replaced by the rhythmic tapping of his thumbs against his phone. He stopped looking at me across the table, his gaze permanently fixed on the glowing screen as he replied to her "emergency" texts. When I’d walk into his office, the air would turn brittle. He’d stop talking mid-sentence, Rosalin leaning over his shoulder with a look that wasn't professional. But the breaking point was when he left me waiting for six hours on our anniversary Gala to celebrate Rosaline’s birthday. “We got occupied with something, Victoria.” He said, “Rosaline has brought cake for you. It was her birthday as well.” Just then a notification came into my phone. It was Rosaline’s post. She had posted a picture minutes before entering the gala. She was sitting in a seven-star hotel, the one I asked Jayden to book for our Anniversary but he refused after saying it was full. She had been cutting her birthday cake surrounded by red candles’ flames and a pair of hands had cupped hers. Jayden’s hands. He had ghosted our Anniversary Gala to celebrate Rosaline’s birthday! That was when I realised, I had no future with this man. I will disappear from his world, taking his child with me.

Every Mafia family in Sicily knew the story. Susie Campbell, the pampered princess of the Campbell family, had an older sister, Selina Campbell, who loved her more than life itself. On the day Susie's arranged marriage was settled, Selina simply signed her own businesses over to her. But in less than a year, Susie's husband cheated on her. Selina and her husband, Charles Romano, surrounded the estate with guns drawn that same day and threatened to kill him if he refused to sign the divorce papers. All of Sicily envied the bond between the two sisters. Until Charles died in an accident. Then came the day Selina went to claim the inheritance. The estate administrator told her, "I'm sorry, but only a legal spouse can inherit." Selina explained at once. "I'm his wife. Here are my documents." The administrator shook his head. "The records show that you aren't his spouse. You divorced twenty-eight years ago. His current legal spouse is Susie Campbell." The blood drained from Selina's face. She rushed straight back to the estate. The moment she walked in, the attorney handling the estate was already there. He was reading. "Charles Romano left the estate and bank accounts to Susie Campbell. The remaining businesses and shares go to your daughter, Emma Romano. "Selina Campbell is to receive the country house." Susie said, her voice trembling, "Selina, I'm so sorry. Don't worry, I'll move out of the estate." Emma turned on her. "Mom, don't take this out on Aunt Susie just because you're hurt. You already have the country house. Why isn't that enough for you?" Selina tried to speak, but her throat had closed up completely. She had never imagined that the sister she had protected all her life and the daughter she had raised so carefully would conspire with her own husband to deceive her. Everything churning in Selina's chest surged upward in a spray of blood. Voices kept calling her name somewhere nearby. When she woke again, she was twenty-eight years in the past.

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

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.

Ethan and I met at a soup kitchen in the slums. We were fighting over half a moldy bread roll. I only learned his story from other people later. His father was the head of Lorencio's largest crime family, killed in a bloody power struggle from within. His mother took a payout and vanished. My father was an accountant for another family. He was framed for cooking the books and shot dead. Same story, same wound. That was what brought us together. We clawed our way up from a crumbling slum to the marble halls of the Lorencio crime families, until finally Ethan took his seat as Don of the Valeria Family. Nine years of marriage. No church. No proposal. Not even a proper cake. Then one day, out of nowhere, Ethan said he wanted to get me a diamond ring. "We had no church and no priest when we got married. I've been meaning to do this properly for a long time. And there'll be more to come." I stared at the custom diamond in the display case, enormous and flawless, and felt something close to happiness. The sales associate smiled and complimented his taste, mentioning that another couple had just ordered a ring too. They'd walked out minutes ago, planning a proposal for tomorrow. "Nine years together and still this in love. That's everything." I reached for his hand. He stepped away, said he needed to take a call. I hadn't heard his phone ring. I followed. Down the hallway, I watched him press a woman against the wall, his mouth on hers. His voice was sharp with jealousy. "You actually agreed to let him propose to you?" "Break it off. I'll buy you the ring." I stood frozen. My chest caved in. Then a pair of hands pulled me into a fitting room alcove. A man's breath was close, warm in the dark. A low voice, almost amused: "Your husband's sleeping with my fiancée. Why don't we give it a try too?"

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.

My husband was Damian, the Don of the Manhattan Mafia. Everyone thought he worshipped me, but the second his childhood sweetheart, Sophia, came back, I became invisible. He ditched me for her over and over again. It all broke when I started miscarrying. Even as my blood stained his car seat, he didn't even flinch. He just shoved me out of the car. "Sophia has a severe phobia of blood. You’re going to terrify her!" I woke up in the hospital to a taunting text from her: “I said I was a little hungry, and Damian actually got in the kitchen to cook for me. He spoils me way too much.” The photo showed the most powerful man in the city personally making her a meal. I didn't cry. I just called my mentor. "Sir, I had thought it through, and I was accepting the invitation for that international medical research project. Get me out of here. The further, the better." Since he couldn't let Sophia go, I decided to let them be. In three days, I was leaving Damian’s world for good.

I used to think my husband was the angel who saved me from the depths of hell. Five years ago, I would have died for my ex-fiance, Marco Lombardi, but his carelessness caused Mom's kidneys to fail. He ignored 99 of my calls, and with an empty bank account, I couldn't even afford the surgery to donate my kidney to her. Only later did I discover that during that time, he was having romantic getaways with my stepsister, Penny Rossi. When I hit rock bottom, mafia Don Leon Costa showed up. He got me the best doctors, handled everything when Mom died, and even proposed to me when I was a complete mess. In our five years of marriage, he has spoiled me rotten. I've almost forgotten how much Marco and Penny hurt me. Then, today, I overhear his phone call with Penny. "Leon, thank you for giving my sister's kidney to my mother back then." My beloved husband just brushes it off. "Don't worry about it. I'll look after your sister. She won't ever know." He laughs quietly, and his voice is full of warmth. "You know I hate seeing you cry."

My little sister had always been too frail to run and play, so I wasn’t allowed to, either. My parents insisted I sit quietly beside her and learn to be a lady. “Be more like Bianca,” Mom would say. “You’re a don’s daughter. Act like one.” But when I wore the same color as her, Dad would tell me to change. “Must you compete with your sister for attention?” Once, I baked my brother his favorite almond cookies. He pushed the tray aside. “Bianca makes these for me. Stop copying her just to get my attention.” Yesterday, he snapped at her for interrupting a meeting. She cut her wrist with a kitchen knife. They rushed her to the hospital. My brother pulled the guards from my studio to protect her at the hospital, leaving me there alone. Men from a rival family broke into my unguarded studio. They took me captive, stabbed me in the stomach, and dragged me down to the basement. I called my brother with trembling hands. “They broke into the studio. I’ve been stabbed… Please, help me.” “Stop lying.” He sounded exhausted with me. “Bianca had a scare yesterday, and now you’re telling me you’re dying? You just can’t stand her getting all the attention.” Then he hung up. The concrete was cold beneath me. My hand went slack. The stairs blurred, then disappeared. I hadn’t lied. All my life, they had treated my pain as another attempt to copy my sister and steal their attention. This time, I died. Days later, when the police called them to identify my body, they were frantic with regret.