Plot Twists Mafia Short Stories & Bias Revenge Novels

As the family's Chief Counsel, I busted my ass for four years. When the family's new rackets launched, my promised twenty-five percent cut was slashed to three. Christian, the Don, patted my shoulder. "It's all for the family." I didn't cause a scene. From the next day on, I clocked in on time, clocked out on time, and refused to do a single thing outside my contract. Two weeks later, the family's core rackets ground to a halt. Our partners threatened a turf war. Christian cornered me at my desk. His eyes were bloodshot. "Vittoria, what exactly do you want?" I glanced at my watch. It was five thirty. "Christian, I'm off the clock."

After my husband, Don of the Rizzo family, died in a shootout, I took over the family and wiped out the one that killed him. To groom my daughter into the next heir, I handpicked four adopted sons to protect her. Ten years. I poured everything into them—my name, my money, my time. And every last one of them turned out exceptional and self-reliant. Over the years, with them at her side, my daughter moved forward steadily. Until the month before my daughter was about to take over my position, I got a desperate call from her. "Mom, help me... someone's got me trapped in the banquet hall. They're trying to rip my clothes off..." By the time I got there, my daughter was curled up in a corner, half her gown torn apart. And the four adopted sons I'd raised with my own hands? Standing outside the door with some girl, watching the show. All of this—because my daughter had gotten into an argument with her. When they saw me, there wasn't a shred of guilt on their faces. Just impatience. The eldest stepped in front of the girl. "Mom, she's the one who mouthed off first and pissed Isabella off. Since she never learned to respect people, I figured I'd teach her some manners for you." The third one's eyes flickered with disrespect. "Handling our little sister—that's not something you need to worry about." One look at their smug faces and I was done. Clearly, they'd forgotten who the real head of this family is.

The night before our engagement party. My fiancé's childhood sweetheart, Isabella, said she had a "family welcome" for me. A little tradition, she said. For a "nobody." She tricked me. Lured me to the family's private boathouse on the lake. Then she opened the floodgates. Let the freezing lake water pour in. Icy water seeped over my ankles. On the shore, guests from the five Chicago families. They held their drinks. They watched me struggle. Watched me fight for my life. She smiled like an angel. Her words were pure poison. "Doesn't Alessia know all about rules? Let's see how low she'll go for Nico." My fiancé, Nico Falconetti, heir to the family, stood by the warm bonfire. Watching me across the dark water. He gave Isabella an indulgent look. Then his eyes met mine. His voice was calm. Arrogant. "Just don't let her die," he told his men. Careless. "A nobody like her needs a lesson. To learn our rules. When she learns her place, I'll pull her out myself." Later, I smashed the window. I crawled ashore. He offered me his warm jacket. I shoved it away. I wiped the water and blood from my face. Then I called my grandfather's Consigliere. "Tell our people. Freeze all credit to the Falconetti family. Cut off their south-side shipping routes. And send the video from tonight to every family on 'The Commission.' I want the Falconetti family wiped from Chicago's map."

My husband, Don Lorenzo, ran New York's underworld. And he's the one who put me in prison. All because his childhood flame, Cassandra Viti—the Viti family princess—killed my father. I was the first one on the scene. The Feds caught me standing over the body. He faked the evidence. Made sure I took the fall. I spent three years in hell. His apology? A single sentence and an unlimited black card. "I owe Cassandra three wishes. Once you're out, once I've paid my debt to her, you'll be my Donna again."

On my wedding day, Matteo Castello's younger adopted sister, Gisella Castello, delivers me a wedding gift consisting of a worn condom. There's a note pressed underneath said condom. "Lucia, I've already tested Matteo for you. He's really good in bed." I lose my mind on the spot. That night, I sleep with three of Matteo's friends, and I make sure to leave hickeys all over my body. The next morning, Matteo kicks open my room door. Soon, a few sacks are tossed into my room, courtesy of his subordinates. The men whom I've slept with the night before are the ones contained in those sacks. Shocked beyond my wits, I let out a blood-curdling scream. I can barely feel my limbs as I scramble away from those sacks. But Matteo reaches out to grip me by the chin and lift my head forcefully. "What are you afraid of? They were already plotting behind my back. I was worried that I might not be able to deal with them without a proper excuse. What I didn't expect is that you, my dear wife, are sweet and understanding enough to give me a reason for doing so." My head buzzes loudly at that moment. I can feel my blood running cold in my veins. Finally, I realize that this is just a trap that Matteo has set up for me. That's when I completely break down. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I do my best to flee from my room, only to get thrown into the punishment chamber in the end. What he doesn't know is that I'm already pregnant at that time. One year later, the punishment chamber's door is finally opened. Sunlight is cast onto my pale face. Everyone tells me that Matteo is here to take me home. Instead of saying anything, I take my phone and head over to a secluded corner, where I place a phone call. "I got released, Mr. Lombardi. Let's meet up."

Last Christmas—in my past life—I was on vacation when the call came. It was Lucy, the family’s new pet capo, and she was in a panic. She’d blown the deal with the Colombians, she said, and now they were threatening to make us pay. I had to rush back and clean up the mess. I saved the deal, but it still cost us a shipment of hardware. And then Lucy, the one who caused the whole mess, pointed the finger straight at me. “It was Madeline! She gave me bad intel! She must’ve set me up!” The truth? The deal went south because she mouthed off to the Colombians and pissed them off. But Henry, the Godfather I’d served loyally for years, didn't want to hear my side. He just branded me a traitor. He kicked me out of the family and put the word out to every outfit that I was a rat. I had a price on my head. I died in some gutter, my body left for the dogs. When I opened my eyes again, it was just before that Christmas. This time, I walked straight into Henry's study and handed over my family signet. "I want out." This time, I can’t wait to see who’s left holding the bag with the pissed-off Colombians.

On my way to a wedding meant to seal an alliance between our families, our enemies kidnapped me. The maid who had look after me since childhood never told my father. Instead, she stole my identity and married William Voss, heir to the Voss family. It took everything I had to escape. When I saw their wedding photo, rage surged through me. I was ready to storm in and expose her when a stream of floating comments appeared before my eyes. [The heroine can't seriously think William knows nothing, can she? He planned everything. He and her maid staged the whole thing so the maid could take her place.] [If she exposes the truth on the wedding day, she'll be an idiot. Even if William has the maid executed on the spot, he'll hate her for it. Once he becomes Don, he'll throw her overboard on their honeymoon and feed her to the sharks.] I stared at the comments, unable to believe what I was reading. Only when I saw the Voss convoy pulling farther away did I run after it. I held up my family crest and called out, "I'm the eldest daughter of the Hathaway family. My maid was kidnapped. For the sake of our families' alliance, will you help me find her?" Sure enough, one of the Voss council members stepped out of the car. A bitter laugh escaped me. William wanted my family's support so he could become Don, but he also wanted my maid. I wasn't about to let him have both. I wanted to see how he would clean up the mess once his plan fell apart.

I was the only kid from St. Mary's Orphanage to get into college, but I was still broke and clueless. Sister Mary, the Mother Superior, sold the last of her jewelry to put me through school. Her biggest dream was that once I made something of myself, I'd buy the orphanage before developers could tear it down. For all my hard work, I only got into an ordinary state college. After graduation, I sent out more than 300 resumes, and the best job I could get paid less than $3,000 a month. So when Victor Amato, the head of the New York mafia, said I looked like his first love, I didn't say no. He offered me $2 million a month and put me up at his luxury estate in New York. He thought I was crazy about him. All I really wanted was the stand-in paycheck that arrived like clockwork. The bags he gave me became the streetlights outside the orphanage. The emerald necklace became the orphanage's new roof. The Ferrari I never drove became the children's library. Everyone in his circle wrote me off as a cheap, shameless stand-in who was only in it for the money. But things between Victor and me were surprisingly stable. Until his first love, Diana Laurent, came home from Europe. Victor started staying out all night and canceling our weekly dinners. He even left me alone at a society gala we'd long planned to attend together. The people around me watched with mocking smiles. But I was busy watching the video Sister Mary had just sent me of the property transfer, quietly doing the math. Five years of stand-in pay was enough to finish the last bridge in our neighborhood and fund ten years of medical coverage for every senior there. I finally let out a breath. Victor's first love had come back at just the right time. The road in our neighborhood was finished, and it was time for me to go home.

The day someone told me I was legitimate blood of the Mafia family, I went from being the Don's daughter's personal maid to being the Don's daughter myself. Three days after they brought me home to the family estate, I went looking for Luciano, the man I'd secretly married, and found him in the study, talking to Don Moretti. "Nina is obedient. She wouldn't dare utter a word even when bullied. She is the perfect person to take the fall for Avery at that bloody party and she won't crack." "Good, Luciano. You think of everything! She's nobody — a street girl. She walks into that bloodbath and dies, nobody's going to miss her. Let her go. Avery's waiting for you to make underboss first, then we do the wedding proper." I stumbled back three steps. My heel hit the marble floor and the pain shot straight up my leg, but it was nothing compared to what just exploded in my chest. I wasn't Don Moretti's real blood. And the man who had sworn his life to me, my own husband, was planning to send me into that slaughterhouse so he could marry the Don's actual daughter. I'd already heard what happened to the last stand-in at one of those events. Shot to pieces. That news drove into my spine like an ice pick. But what they didn't know, what I'd only just found out, was this: My brother, who'd been missing for years, was the highest power in the Cosa Nostra. The one they called the Shadow King.

When my husband, Angelo, slept with my best friend for the ninety-ninth time, he told the entire Family I was insane. He bought off the Family enforcers and the doctor. Everyone believed I had lost my mind, that I was unfit to be Capo. He let my so-called best friend, Bianca, humiliate me in every way imaginable, plotting to have me locked away in an isolated psychiatric facility. When I discovered the accident that caused my miscarriage was a murder they orchestrated, and that they were now conspiring to seize the territory my father had left me, I made a call to a number that had long been gathering dust. "I'll agree to any arranged marriage. My only condition is that you find me the most ruthless cleaner in the city." "I want my husband to wish he were dead."

Six years ago, my sister and I fell for the same man, Edmund. But he only had eyes for Rosalie, the sweet, innocent type. With them, I was always the third wheel. They got married, of course. And on their wedding day, I overheard my parents whispering. "The company's strapped for cash," my father said. "What if we marry Corinne off to our business partner? That'd solve our problem..." This "partner" was over fifty and twice divorced. So I ran. I fled to Sicily with the only five thousand dollars to my name. I ran on pure bitterness. In four years, I brought dozens of small-time Sicilian crews to heel and forged my own family: Vexille. In another two, I came back to New York and quietly became the most powerful woman in the North American underworld. By then, Edmund's power was crumbling, hit hard by a rival family. That's when my mother called, her voice full of that same old entitlement. "Your brother-in-law's in some trouble. Figure out a way to help him." Then a text from my sister, Rosalie, dripping with contempt: "Sister, I remember you have a little casino in Sicily, right? So you must know something about that Vexille family." "Edmund needs their help. See what you can dig up." They still don't know. I'm the Don of the Vexille family. I glanced at the schedule my advisor had prepared. Tomorrow, 9:00 AM. A sit-down with some minor family looking for a handout. The name on the file: Edmund.

When the Russo family—the most notorious mafia empire in America—brought me, their long-lost true blood, back to the estate, I set three rules: One: Don't compare me to Chloe, the perfect adopted daughter. Two: Don't give her my things as charity, and don't dump her hand-me-downs on me. Three: Stay out of my private life. The man she was supposed to marry is hers. Our father—the Don—agreed. Chloe and I barely kept a fake peace. But when the marriage alliance came up, the rules went out the window. Her fiancé Marcello chose me—a street-wild girl covered in motor oil. My father was furious. My mother, bitter. My oldest brother, the Underboss, looked at me with pure disgust. Chloe was convinced I seduced her fiancé in bed. But God as my witness, I never touched him. I stormed into his private cigar club, demanding he clear things up. Marcello blew out a puff of smoke and sneered. "The Vitiello family's marriage pact was always with the true Russo blood. We have no intention of taking a fake." As he said it, his sharp dark eyes slid toward a trembling Chloe. A cruel, almost sick thrill flashed in them. It took me a long time to get it. He had too much wildness in his bones to marry a smiling puppet. And I—a foul-mouthed, reckless street girl—became his perfect pawn to rebel against his entire family. I was forced to become Marcello's wife. Three years later, he got bored. He threw a divorce agreement in my face. Filled with my unbearable "sins": "Too stubborn. Zero feminine, in bed or out." "Always showing your face at that biker shop. A disgrace. Unfit for the title of Donna." I stared at him. I remembered why he dumped Chloe—he hated her submissive elegance. Now, what he hated most was that I wasn't submissive, and I wasn't elegant. I flicked the ash from my cigarette and said, dead calm: "Fine. I'll sign."

I gave up on my inheritance right during the time my love for Matteo Rossini ran the deepest. When I was about to leave, Papa looked at me before saying lightly, "I bet that you'll come home in three years." Back then, I didn't take his words to heart. After spending three years overcoming life's hurdles with Matteo, he finally becomes the Don of his family. On the day the inheritance party is to be held, I decide to wear a dress that I've treasured for a very long time but never had the heart to wear. But the moment I walk into the banquet hall, I see Matteo holding hands with a radiant young woman. She's Isabella Ginevra, a popular socialite in the elite society. Isabella flits among the guests charismatically, as though she were the lady of the house. She's capable of engaging in any conversational topic, be it finance strategies or channels to obtain firearms. I try to participate in a conversation, only for Isabella to cut me off with a titter. "I thought you've been spending the past few years being cooped up indoors. It turns out that you know a thing or two about these topics, huh?" Everyone around us falls silent for a brief moment. My expression freezes on my face. Then, I turn to look at Matteo subconsciously. But he doesn't even bother looking my way. Instead, he merely says softly, "We're talking business here, Bianca. You should sit with the other ladies." I clench my fists instantly. But in the end, I opt to not say anything and just walk away. Through the throngs of the guests, I can see Matteo and Isabella chatting animatedly with each other in low tones. For once, Matteo looks relaxed and at ease—an expression that I haven't seen for a long time. Suddenly, I hear a guest remarking, "If someone like Ms. Ginevra were to become the Donna, she'd be of great help to the Don." A chorus of agreements ring out around him. Matteo just smiles in return, though he doesn't deny that remark. In fact, he even toasts to Isabella and drinks to her in front of everyone. That's when I draw to my feet and walk over to snatch the glass out of his hand. "I think so too. In that case, she can have the position as the Donna, then."

On the day the real heiress was welcomed home, my fiancé was already sleeping with her. Staring at the blue pills and torn lingerie scattered on the floor, I told them to get the hell out of my wedding house. But a second later, my father stormed in and slapped me hard across the face. "Who are you to tell her to leave? Bella is our real daughter!" "Elena, you’re just an outsider we took in by mistake. You’re the one who needs to get out." Marco wrapped his arm around Bella, his tone impatient: "Elena, I’m the heir to the Moretti family. I can’t marry a mongrel with impure blood like you. If you don't want to bring shame to the family, be smart and go tell the Don the wedding is off tomorrow." Bella gave a coy smile and tossed a stack of cash at my feet like she was giving alms: "Sister, I know Marco and I hurt you, but we’re true love." "Take this as your severance package. Take the money and get lost." I suppressed my rage and stepped forward to throw these disgusting people out, but Marco shoved me violently. "I told you, I’m not marrying you! Keep pestering us, and don't blame me for getting rough!" My stomach slammed against the table. I laughed out of pure anger. Who said I wanted to marry him? The one I’m going to marry is his father—the Don of the Moretti family, Lorenzo.

Five years into my marriage, my private investigator sent me photos while I was at a foundation gala. Adrian was supposed to be in Paris closing an acquisition. But the photos showed his private jet parked in Aspen. He was walking down the stairs with his arm around a young dancer everyone had been talking about. I looked through them all and forwarded them to my lawyer without making a fuss. [He's broken Clause Seven again.] Adrian had added that clause himself before the wedding, back when we were still in love. For each act of infidelity during our marriage, I could choose one of his personal assets. The first time, I took the penthouse in Tribeca. After that came a winery in Napa, a private island in the Caribbean, and his thoroughbred farm in Kentucky, among other things. It stopped being interesting. He had enough assets to cheat his way through the rest of his life. He sat across from me and asked, without a care in the world, what I wanted this time. I took my time before answering, "Adrian, I want a baby. "Yours."

In my last life, my boyfriend’s adoptive sister, Lexi, asked to borrow my jacket at a class party. I lent it to her. The next day, she bullied another girl and pushed her off a rooftop to her death. The security cameras didn't catch her face, but the limited-edition custom jacket she was wearing—my jacket—made me the prime suspect. I tried to explain, but Lexi just threw herself into my boyfriend Preston’s arms, looking utterly wronged. "Vanessa, I know you're upset that Preston pays more attention to me, but you can't just frame me like this." Then Preston pulled out a video. The person pushing the girl off the roof and running away in a panic… it was my face, clear as day. "Vanessa," he said, his voice laced with disgust. "You're a monster." Consumed by grief, the victim's family pushed me out of a window to my death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Lexi asked to borrow my jacket. This time, I wasn't just going to say no. I was going to send Preston and Lexi straight to hell. What they didn't know was that I am the only daughter of the Falcone family, the most powerful mafia in New York.

Three days before our wedding, I found out I was pregnant with Matteo Calderone's baby. I hurried to tell him, only to find my best friend, Raffaella Moro, crying in his arms. "What am I going to do... It's his baby... That man from the projects... He forced me..." Matteo gently patted her back, his chin resting on her head. His voice was softer than I'd ever heard it. "Don't be scared. I promise you, I'll take care of you and the baby. "Even after I'm married, this will be the only child I ever have." I stood around the corner in the hallway, the doctor's report crumpled in my fist. For three years, I'd followed them everywhere. I'd taken a knife for Raffaella, fought Matteo's fights, and cleaned up more of their messes than I could count. I did it all because I couldn't bear to lose either of them: my boyfriend or my best friend. Raffaella cried herself out and fell asleep in Matteo's arms. Finally, Matteo turned around and glanced at me. "Oh, right, Elena. How did your checkup go?" I opened my mouth, but barely got a word out. He waved me off and turned back to Raffaella. "You're strong and healthy. I'm sure you're fine. Raffaella's been through so much. I need to stay with her. Don't overthink it." I stayed where I was. I watched him hold Raffaella's hand and brush a tear from the corner of her eye with his thumb. The wall lights cast their shadows across the floor until they merged into one. I stood at the edge of their shadows and realized there was no place for me beside them. I stuffed the report into my pocket, turned, and left the exam room. I took out my satellite phone and called the number I'd saved three years ago but never used. "Father, I lost. "I'm ready to do what the family wants."

One second before the ceremony was set to begin, my groom, Alvin Mercer, suddenly turned and walked out. "Lillian, Hannah's exhibition is falling apart. She's home alone right now and I have to be with her. We'll reschedule the wedding." Hannah Deneuve was the maid's daughter he'd grown up with. I caught him by the cuff. My voice came out flat and cold. "Alvin, this is the sixth time you have called off our wedding for her. If you walk out that door today, you and I are finished." But Alvin flung my hand off. "Enough! We can get married any time. Hannah needs me right now!" He left without looking back, and my heart slowly went cold. The priest clutched his Bible, visibly uncomfortable, and quietly asked me whether the ceremony should continue. I looked past a room full of stunned guests, straight at the man sitting in the corner of the very last row. "Of course. "Just with a different groom."

On the day my fiancé, Raphael Moretti, and I were supposed to get our marriage license at city hall, I dressed with care. But by noon, he still hadn't shown up. Aurelia De Luca video-called me. "Sofia, where are you? Raphael's been waiting for you all day." Panic hit me. "Weren't we signing in Palermo?" Aurelia frowned. "It's Taormina, Sofia. Everyone's been waiting for a long time." I drove straight to Taormina. When I arrived, no one was there. When the video connected, Aurelia was crouched on the ground, laughing hard. "Sofia, don't tell me you actually went. We're already on Lipari. Raphael's setting up the wedding venue to surprise you." I left my car at the port and took a boat to Lipari. The water was rough. I threw up the whole way, and my makeup ran down my face. But when I arrived, no one answered my calls. I waited alone outside city hall until it closed, not knowing what else to do. Aurelia suddenly appeared behind me in a straw hat and smacked me hard on the back. "You really chased us all the way here? The underboss and Raphael only came to keep me company on vacation." I spun around with a yelp. My heel caught on the step, and I fell. Raphael stood there holding Aurelia's shopping bags and purse. "Didn't we agree to get our marriage license after the trip? You couldn't wait? You had to chase us all the way here?" My uncle, Vincenzo Ferraro, saw my pale face and frowned. "Lia is the cheerful one. You've been timid since you were a child. How are you ever going to take over the family?" Seeing Aurelia's smug smile, I didn't even feel like confronting her anymore. I wasn't angry. I wasn't sad. I just wanted to escape a home that had never felt like mine. I only had to stay away from the people and places that made me miserable. For good.

The day my only brother was cornered in a dockside warehouse by a rival mafia family, I knelt on the carpet of Damian's study and begged him. "Lend me ten men. I only need to hold until dawn, and the men I hired can get up here from the south side." He took a drag on his cigar and scoffed, "Ten men? Do you know how many people have eyes on that shipment on the north side tonight? My men aren't here to wipe up your messes." My knuckles went white where I had hold of the hem of his trousers. My phone screen lit up. A message about my brother taking a bullet, the blood a blurred smear of red. I was about to beg again when I heard him place a call over my head. His voice went soft, the way you'd soothe a child. "Go pick up the west-side shipment yourself. I'm giving you fifty gunmen to back you up. Don't be scared. If we lose men, that's on me. You just come back safe." That was the adopted sister he'd taken in. When he first brought her home she'd stuttered when she spoke. I let go of his trouser leg and got up off the carpet without a sound. Damian finally looked down at me. He smiled and wiped my tears away with his thumb. "That's more like it. Don't come crying to me every time the wind shifts. Handle your own family's business yourself. That's how the Moretti family works." I nodded calmly, walked out of the study, and dialed a number I hadn't called in a long time. "Dad, you were right. Giving up my place as a mafia princess for a man from some small family wasn't worth it. I'll marry the Don of the Gambino Family."