Bias Mafia 短篇故事與 Revenge 小說

Two months after I stepped down as Boss, my eldest son Gideon pressed a barrel to the back of my head. I put him in that chair with my own hands. "Mom. An eighty-million-dollar shipment went down. The Five Families want blood." My adopted daughter Alessia stood beside him, sobbing fake tears. She ran the books. "Mom, Gideon just took the seat. He can't have a stain like this. You're retired anyway. Do this for us, one last time." Such devoted children. I signed the exile contract. In return, I got five million in hush money and an order to get the hell out of Chicago. Then the enforcers from the High Commission slammed a ledger onto the table. It was my younger son, Silas. The one who ran the docks. He sold out the route and laundered the payout with our South American rivals. I thought the circus was over. My sweet little girl wiped her tears in a second. She shoved the papers against my chest, cold as stone. "The streets already think it's you, so just die for us. We have pure Mafia blood in our veins. We can't let our future burn." Right then, I laughed out loud. These ungrateful mutts really thought they carried royal Sicilian blood. They took twenty years of my mercy and treated it like dirt under their shoes. They had no idea. They were just street rats I pulled out of slum dumpsters. Now they want me to take the bullet? When I built this empire on dead bodies and became the only female Boss in the Great Lakes, their little hands couldn't even hold a gun without shaking.

On my birthday, one of my husband’s subordinates leaned close to him and whispered in Russian, “Sasha has a surprise prepared for you tonight.” My husband smiled at me as he finished cutting my cake. Then, in the same language, he replied, “She has quite a few tricks in bed. I’ll see her later. “Just don’t let Madam find out, or I’m afraid I’ll get thrown out.” Everyone around laughed and assured keep it quiet. None of them knew that I’d been fluent in multiple languages since I was a child. What they also didn’t know was that I’d found the hidden phone he kept in the false drawer, where all the filthy videos of him and Sasha were saved. I didn’t confront him. Instead, I contacted a few remaining connections in the Vegas and had them prepare a new identity for me. In three days, Claire Vega would no longer exist, and he would never have me again.

The day I found out I was pregnant, Mia Bell—my husband Julian Moretti's personal secretary—posted on Instagram. "Boss, thank you for taking such good care of me. Who says you can't be pregnant and still get spoiled?" In the photo, Mia wore nothing but lace underwear and leaned against a man's chest as she took a selfie. His hand rested on the smooth curve of her belly. On his ring finger was the Don's signet ring—one I would have recognized anywhere. I left a one-word comment: "Congratulations." Seconds later, Mia called me in a panic to apologize. She claimed she'd only posted the photo to provoke her boyfriend after a fight. Julian Moretti took the phone from her and said in a low voice, "Vivian, delete the comment. You know why she's by my side. She took a bullet for you. The least you can do is not make her feel like it was all for nothing." I held the pregnancy report and opened my mouth to speak, but the call ended before I could say a word. Five minutes later, Mia posted again. "One big protector on the outside and one little protector on the inside. Life is perfect." Julian liked the post. I slipped off my wedding ring and tossed it into the grass beside the road. Then I tucked my latest prenatal report into the bottom of my bag.

I hid who I was. The daughter of the Don. The boss of all bosses. In Brooklyn, Killian and I were just a regular couple. Madly in love. The day I showed him the pregnancy test—two pink lines—he loosened his blood-stained collar. His voice was rough. “I’m marrying the New Jersey syndicate’s daughter. In three days. At St. Patrick’s Cathedral.” “The Russos were nobodies ten years ago. Her father has the muscle and the ports I need to win this war. The ink is dry. And… to get the first weapons shipment… we slept together.” He saw me freeze by the bed. His rough fingers touched my cheek. “I’ll buy you a penthouse on Long Island. The most secure one. You and the baby will be safe. For life.” I slapped his hand away, stunned. “So I’m just your secret? Your mistress? Hidden away forever?” Killian looked away, his jaw tight. “She’s a mob daughter. She plays the part. But you get everything else. My money. My life. It’s all for you and the baby. Just not the ring.” My heart seized. So that's what I was to him. His dirty little secret. “What if I told you… my family could help you too?”

The Moretti Family raised a stable of orphans to be its next heir. I was one of them. But in every test, I always came out second best. Lucia always came out on top. Then, just before the bid that would decide the heir, I was bound to a Switching System. Comments scrolled past my eyes: [Oh, it's over. The villainess has always been jealous of the main character, Lucia, for getting first place. She’s definitely using the system to swap their proposals!] [Good thing Lucia can hear Olivia’s conversation with the system. She’s already planning to hand in a blank sheet of paper.] [So what if the villainess schemes all she wants? All she’ll get is a blank page! In the end, Lucia will inherit the Moretti Family and become the new Don! So satisfying!] Just then, the system prompted: [Please designate your switch target.] Without a second's hesitation, I thought, "Lucia." The moment I did, I saw Lucia shoot me a strange, triumphant look. I knew then. She'd heard everything. But she had no idea. I wasn't swapping her proposal. I was taking what was most precious to her.

When Lilith, the woman my fiancé Andrew had never gotten over, was kidnapped and used as leverage by a rival family during a critical transfer of power, I urged him to put the Family first and wait until our internal affairs were stable before rescuing her. By the time he became Don and went after her, Lilith's body had already been dumped in the wilderness. She had died horribly. Andrew never blamed me. If anything, he treated me better than ever and refused to let anyone defy me. Later, after seizing control of both families, he slaughtered my people. His first act was to deliver me to the rival family bound to mine by a blood feud. He stood by while they tortured me to death. He stood over my body, his gaze cold as unmelting ice. "This is how she died. Now you can suffer what she suffered." When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment Lilith was kidnapped. I didn't stop him from giving up his chance to be Don in order to save her. He disappointed the Family. Perfect. This time, both families would answer to me.

The day Victor Moretti told me he was the Sicilian Don's heir, he also handed me a bill for everything he had spent on me over the years. "Elena, the Family will never let a woman who came to me for money become its next Donna." He pushed the ledger across the table to me. From the hot dogs we shared when we first got together to the condoms we used the first time we slept together. From the mattress-cleaning bill he had fronted to the hospital bill for my miscarriage. Thirty-seven thousand five hundred dollars in total. Every single item, down to the cent. I looked at the man I had loved for five years, swallowed the taste of blood rising in my throat, and kept my voice low. "I have to settle my mother's surgery bill first. I'll pay you back next month." Victor frowned at once. "Camilla was right about you. Women who come from nothing, like you, always have an excuse. I should have listened to her. I never should have broken the rules and gotten involved with you at all. Fine. One month. But you'll pay the same interest rate the Family charges its borrowers." I gritted my teeth but didn't argue. I silently accepted the condition. But the hospital's billing desk had another shock waiting for me. A clerk told me the balance in my account was down to one dollar. The hundred and fifty thousand I had scraped together from every corner of my life to save her was gone. Shaking all over, I called Victor. His tone was as condescending as ever. "I hacked into your account. Camilla Marchetti wanted an antique jeweled necklace, and she was a hundred and fifty thousand dollars short." "It comes to more than what you owe me. Consider the difference payment for the damage you did to my Family's name." With two casual sentences, he had turned my mother's life into a bauble at the throat of a mafia boss's daughter. The call ended. Then a nurse behind me said, "Miss Hayes... you don't need to pay. Your mother... she just took her own life... She said she didn't want to be a bur

All I did was reach for a pastry Lila had her eye on, and my childhood sweetheart Luca, the Don's heir of Galvani family, had me thrown in the estate cellar for three days and three nights. His voice was as cold. "I've told you before, Lila is like a sister to me. Why can't you just let her be?" This time I didn't cry or beg. I just looked at him. I had been half out of my mind over this man for more than a decade. I had even slashed my own wrist in front of his father, just to force him into marrying me. Luca looked at me like he was disappointed all over again. "With a temper like yours, how could you ever be the Donna of Galvani family?" "Get down to the cellar and think about what you've done. Come back when you've come to your senses." Then, as if he couldn't quite help himself, he dropped his voice: "Look, as long as you come around and stop making Lila's life difficult, everything goes back to how it was. Okay?" I clenched my jaw. It felt like a blade pressed against my chest. "Okay," I said. Next month, the Don of the Ferrara family will marry me as his Donna. This time, I am done with Luca.

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."

The Volkovs. The most brutal family in Russia. Their Don was holding our arms deal hostage. He wanted the De Luca princess. Isla. My adopted sister. I was their biological daughter. The blood heir they found in the slums twenty years too late. But Isla was the one they actually loved. The news broke. My mother walked into my room for the first time in forever. “Aurora, my best girl. You know how fragile Isla is. If she marries him… that man will break her. He’ll kill her.” My fiancé, Julian Caldwell, heir to the Caldwell family, made me a candlelit dinner. He held me, kissing me softly. “You’re so much stronger than her, Aurora. Please. Do this for her. I’ll give you a private wedding. Just us. Even if I can’t marry you for real, you’ll always be my wife.” Even my father—a man who never smiled at me, the Don of the De Luca family—actually slid a blank check across the desk. “Take her place instead of Isla. Name your price. Anything you want.” They were so sure I’d say yes. Because I’d always been that pathetic girl. Desperate for their approval. Willing to do anything. But not this time. I was done. I looked at the blank check and laughed. “A blank check? Not even close. I want one hundred million dollars. And a blood contract that cuts all ties. Forever.” They had no idea. I wanted more than that. In seven days, I was going to give them a gift. I wanted their lives.

"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.

Five years ago, on my wedding day, my greatest enemy, Flynn, the heir to the Moretti family, rammed his car into my limo. He ended up badly hurt, and I lost my memory. When I woke up, he lied and claimed to be my husband. He hid me away in his estate and treated me like a queen for five long years. That was until he grew tired of me and found a replacement who looked exactly like me before the accident. At a family gathering, that girl, Cleo, showed up with a four-month baby bump. She smugly challenged me to a game of "Never Have I Ever." "I screwed the Don on his desk, and he even took off your pink diamond ring and gave it to me." "Oh, and I am pregnant with his heir. Audrey, you lose." She sneered, looking like she had already won. "So, as a punishment, Flynn is mine for the next six months." The room went dead silent. Flynn stayed quiet. His eyes were dark and unreadable. He took a long time to answer. I did not care enough to wait for his answer. I let out a soft laugh. "Sure, you can have it all."

The Moretti family had an old tradition. Whenever a new Don took over, he raised his first glass to the person he was most grateful to. When Damian Moretti became Don, everyone assumed that first glass would be mine. When he was at his lowest, I married him, bringing with me two of my family's shipping routes and 200 million dollars in cash. I was the one who made him Don. But Damian raised his glass and said softly, "The person I'm most grateful to is Rosie Carter." The whole room broke into an uproar. She was a member of the Moretti family I'd never even noticed before. Beaming with excitement, she took the glass from Damian and punched him playfully on the shoulder. "Don't get all sappy on me. We're practically brothers. We've even shared a bed." Awkward laughter rippled around the room. Damian didn't laugh. "Ten years ago, I was badly wounded and on the run. Rosie hid me in the safe house beneath the nightclub. "We slept in the same bed in that cramped little room for four months. "But without her, I wouldn't have survived." Rosie tipped back her head and drained the glass that should have been mine. Every eye in the room turned to me, waiting to see how the Bellini family's heir would handle it. I removed the brooch symbolizing the alliance between our two families, set it on the table, and texted my father. "Withdraw our votes for Damian." "Starting tonight, Don Moretti can fend for himself."

On the day of the funeral, Marcus asked me to share him with his sisters-in-law. The moment the news broke, Selena, the eldest brother's wife, hurled her wine glass to the floor. Vivian, the second brother's wife, raised her voice and tore into Marcus for having no sense of decency. But the Hartley family's men dropped to their knees, begging the two widows to become Marcus’s mistresses, to carry on the bloodline in honor of their fallen husbands. I stood off to the side watching, and something in me snapped. I shoved through the crowd, slammed my hands on the long table, and demanded to know exactly what Marcus thought I was to him. I called him no better than a thug. Then I turned on the two sisters-in-law, called them frauds in widow's clothing, and by the end I'd said something unforgivable to just about everyone in that room. After that, I couldn't let it go. I hired a lawyer and sued them for fraud, for a staged marriage. They turned it around on me and said I was plotting to swallow the entire Hartley estate and drive what was left of the family into the ground. My father's business was sabotaged again and again. Three key shipping routes went dark. The dockyard was seized. I was thrown out of the estate and died in a damp basement in Sicily, with no doctor and no family. The landlord found me when he came to collect rent. I only learned the truth after I died. They'd been working together all along. His public reveal of the mistress was merely meant to drive me to snap, giving him a valid excuse to end our marriage. Then I opened my eyes. I was back in that living room, on that same day. The portraits of the two brothers sat on the long table. Selena stood in a black dress, eyes rimmed red. "Marcus, your brother's body is barely cold, and you want us to be your mistresses?" Vivian wore a pale blouse, her voice trembling. "I'd sooner die than betray your brother." This time around, I was going to give them exactly what they asked for.

The day before my wedding, I was insulted by two men. In my defense, I ended up killing one and injuring the other. My fiancé at the time, Alexander, who was supposed to protect me, abandoned me during the trial. I was sentenced to two years in jail. When I was finally released two years later, I discovered that my ex-fiancé had already married my best friend, Isabella. And Isabella? She didn’t just ‘steal’ my fiancé—she took the doctor position that was supposed to be mine too. I had nowhere to go, and in my most desperate moment, Eric Graves appeared at my door. As the most powerful mafia leader in NYC, Eric used his influence to ensure no one would speak ill of my past. He also proposed to me, confessing that he'd always had feelings for me and wanted to marry me. I believed he was my knight in shining armor, my true love. The first four years of our marriage were perfect—at least, that’s what I thought, until the day I overheard a conversation between my husband, Eric, and his right-hand man, Adam. “Boss, you were so clever to let those scums harass Evelyn. If it weren't for that, Miss Isabella would never have had a chance with Alexander.” Eric’s teasing voice followed, “I just wanted to scare her for a bit. Never thought she’d kill one of them and end up behind bars.” Adam sounded confused. “But Miss Isabella is already married now. Why would you still keep that whore around after she got out of prison?” “Because,” Eric paused, “I have to make sure she doesn’t run back to Alexander or disturb Isabella.” The laughter that followed shattered my heart. All those memories of Eric saving me from humiliation? They were all a lie. He was the one who made my life fall apart, just to make sure Isabella could live happily ever after. Wiping away the lingering tears, I dialed Eric’s biggest rival in NYC, Caleb Nightshade. "Do you still want to wipe Eric out of New York?”

Two years ago, I was the Donna of the Costa family. When I was on my way to attend the family meeting, I was killed by my husband's childhood sweetheart, Isabella Rossi. She shattered my limbs and smashed my belly before throwing me into an abandoned mine pit. It was such a shame that I was pregnant with the heir Matteo Costa had been waiting for the past five years when I died. Not only did Isabella frame me for working with the enemy forces, but she also broke her own legs and claimed that she got hurt from stopping me. Matteo publicly announced that he decided to sever all ties with me. He also placed a bounty on my head. Just like that, I fell from my position as the Costa family's Donna to a traitor who was wanted by all. Two years later, the mine pit collapsed on itself. That was when the workers dug out my rotten corpse.

I've always been frail by nature. Taking two consecutive steps can make me gasp for air. If I cough, there's a chance there's blood accompanying it. When I'm seven years old, a homeless man in Bronzeton tries to snatch a half-eaten piece of bread from me. I lie on the ground as I convulse like a dying fish with foam gathering at my mouth. My eyes have rolled to the back of my head as well, as though my seizure is acting up. Thinking that I've gotten infected with some sort of disease, the homeless man is so frightened that he flees from Novarra overnight. When I'm ten years old, a delinquent tries to demand protection money from me. I react by spitting dark blood at his face. The poor guy screams at the top of his lungs as he runs down the street, only to get mistaken as a murderer by a police officer who happens to pass by the area. Since then, everyone avoids me like plague on the street. They aren't scared of me—they are terrified that they might get into trouble because of me. No one knows who my parents are. I've grown up in a rundown motel, and my adoptive mother is a stripper who used to be famous. Whenever she gets drunk, she often tells me, "Your father is a mafia Don." I've always thought that she's just running her mouth purely out of drunkenness. That is, until a black limo stops in front of me on the year I turn 18 years old. Three men clad in black suits get out of the limo. The leader sinks down on one knee right in front of me, his voice quivering as he speaks. "We finally found you, Ms. Salvatore. Your father is Vittorio Salvatore, the Don of one of the biggest mafia families in Novarra." At first, I think this is just a scamming scheme. That is, until I'm taken to the estate located on Lacreth Isle that's six acres wide and sports iron gates with the Salvatore insignia carved into them. On my first day home, the fake heiress, Serena Salvatore, purposefully releases the fearsome family dog in the estate just to intimidate me. That dog keeps barking at me, frightening me to the point that I spit out blood on the spot before collapsing to the ground. My mother, Rosalina Vitelli, almost loses her mind over my collapse. But my older brother, Marco Salvatore, shouts at me angrily instead. "Why are you playing dead? You made Serena cry because of your antics!" His voice is so loud that I feel as though my eardrums are going to burst anytime soon. Even my heart feels as though an invisible hand is gripping it tightly. My eyes roll to the back of my head instantly as my body crashes on the spot. Mamma flies into a rampage and almost beats Marco to death for scaring me. Having witnessed everything, Serena kicks up a fuss by attempting to commit suicide at the estate's clock tower just so she can apologize to me. In order to prove his love to Serena, my fiance, Luca Moretti, drags me forcibly to the top of the clock tower so that Serena can do whatever she wants to me. The thing is, the winds are strong on the top of the clock tower. That's when I accidentally slip and topple over the railing. My parents, who are looking everywhere for me, happen to be around the clock tower when I crash onto the spot near them. This time, my bruised and broken body is completely drenched in blood. Shell-shocked, they remain rooted to the spot as they stare at me in bewilderment. Then, they let out blood-curdling screams.

I was a nobody, but for three years, I was in love with Dante, the heir to the Blackwood family—Chicago's biggest name in the mob. The day I found out I was pregnant, I was overjoyed. I couldn't wait to tell him the good news. But then I heard his twin brother, Marco, ask him, "Bro, when are you gonna tell Rose it was me in her bed every night, pretending I was you?" Dante's voice had a coldness I'd never heard before. "At the wedding, in one week. I'll expose everything, then I'll propose to Isabella." Isabella. The rich girl who used to bully me. So, this was all just payback for his precious Isabella. But what Dante didn't know was that the wedding he'd so carefully planned would be missing its bride.

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."