Nouvelles Plot Twists Mafia & Romans CEO Regret

The night before my fiancé, Soren, and I were supposed to leave for Northern Europe to start our new life, the sounds of a lively discussion drifted from his private club. "Christ, Boss, are you insane? Why the sudden marriage alliance with the Rosetti family to make a play for Italy? Didn't you say you were getting out of the life with Abby and heading north?" Soren leaned back into a leather sofa, his voice nonchalant and muffled by a cloud of smoke. "Plans change. Besides, remember, I'm the one who made her who she is." "Once she sees the new empire I'm building, that little canary will come flying right back to my cage. The woman can't live without me." I stood in the shadows of the club, a wine glass in my hand, a dull ache blooming in my chest. The anniversary gift I had so carefully chosen for Soren was still in my purse, waiting for me to give it to him. I slipped out of the smoke-filled club, tossed the gift into the nearest trash can, and booked a one-way ticket to Northern Europe. But what he didn't know was that just as he could betray our future for Monica, I could abandon him for mine. All those years we spent dancing with death were never just for his sake.

I was just a student who couldn't afford tuition. For five years, I was also the secret lover of Mafia Don Dante Costello. Publicly, I was his personal art restorer. In private, he spent his nights making me his, holding me close and kissing me breathless. Then his family arranged his engagement. To Isabella Rossi. A princess from a rival family. At their engagement party, Isabella stabbed the back of my hand with a shard of broken glass. He made me apologize. To her. For making a scene. Fighting back tears, I bowed my head to Isabella. When Isabella lost a bet and had to play Russian Roulette—one bullet, six chambers—he made me take her place. My hand shook as I raised the gun to my head. "You saved my life once," I told him. "Now you can have it back." The moment I vanished from his world, the ruthless Mafia Don who had everything under control...completely lost his mind.

For five years, Marco Falcone was the perfect man. Or so I thought. The illusion shattered on the night of our engagement party, when his mistress crashed it, a five-year-old boy in tow. The boy ran straight to Marco, crying, "Daddy! Daddy, I finally found you!" It had to be some kind of sick joke. But then Marco turned to me, his voice stripped of all warmth. "This is my son, Leo. A… mistake Sofia and I made five years ago." "Leo is the Falcone heir. I have to legitimize them. That means I'll be engaged to Sofia first." "But Lydia, believe me, I still love you. We can have our engagement party in six months. You're going to be the Donna of the Falcone family. I expect you to be generous and understanding. This is non-negotiable." I laughed, a cold, sharp sound, and slid the engagement ring off my finger. My eyes scanned the room and locked on the man in the corner—Lorenzo Moretti, the most powerful Don in New York. He held another title, one only I knew: the man who’d been trying to make me his. "Don Moretti," I called out, my voice clear and steady. "I find myself in need of a new fiancé. Are you interested?"

One week before our wedding, my fiancé, my father’s own consigliere, sold him out.He set him up for a FBI raid. My father died in a pool of blood, his eyes wide open, and the once-great Moretti family collapsed overnight. In my darkest hour, Dominic, the Don of the New York Luciani family, showed up with a crew of mercenaries. He didn't just take care of the rat; he gave me total protection. He obsessed over me for three years, even tattooing my name over his heart. I fell for it. I believed he loved me. I let my guard down and stayed by his side, serving as the lead perfumer for the coldest man in the city. Until today. Outside the wine cellar, I overheard him talking to his rival. "Old man Moretti died never knowing who had leaked his location," Dominic said. "But imagine if that stupid woman, Elena, found out," the rival mocked. "If she knew the man who killed her father was the same husband kissing her forehead every night... would she lose her mind?" My hand froze on the cellar door. The rival’s laughter came through the cracks: "You’re cold-blooded, Dominic! Elena thinks you’re her savior. She even wants to give you an heir. She’d never dream the raid that destroyed her life was actually your offering to Sienna."

I was eight months pregnant, at a charity gala with my husband, Don Massimo, when a rival family hit us. The crowd panicked. I was shoved to the floor, hard. Blood everywhere. Massimo lost his mind, screaming for medics, desperate to save my baby. But when I woke up, they were gone. Both of them. No baby, no Massimo. I remembered the gunfire, Massimo shielding me with his body. A cold dread washed over me. I hauled myself into a wheelchair and raced down the hall. That’s when I heard them—Massimo and the doctor. "Boss, I'm sorry. We did everything we could. The baby… he didn't make it." Tears streamed down my face. They killed my baby. The rival family killed my baby. But his next words shattered my world. "There was only one medical team. I had to make a choice. Bianca… she was carrying my child, too." Massimo sighed, then gave the order. "No one tells Arabella. She'll raise Bianca's son as her own. He will be my only heir." I slapped a hand over my mouth, my vision blurred by tears as I turned away. The man I loved was a lie. Fine. If he wants a war, he'll get one.

My mother sent me to Chicago to marry Marco Ricci. A power move. One meant to cement our family’s control of the city. After all, my grandfather was the one who put the Riccis on the map. They owed us. They were supposed to treat me like royalty. I went to the fanciest jeweler in Chicago to buy my fiancé a gift. But some broad snatched it right from me. Before I could move, the store manager was fawning all over her. “Miss Bianca! A gift from Mr. Ricci? It’s perfect on you!” Marco? My fiancé? So this was his whore. She slid the sapphire ring onto her finger and shot me a look of disgust. “Who the hell do you think you are, bitch? Trying to take what’s mine?” I didn't even look at her. I just called Marco. "Your whore has something of mine. You have three minutes. Get down to the jeweler and handle her."

"Vera, you are accused of conspiring with the Petrov Group to assassinate the family's future Donna, Sylvia. This tribunal is now in session." In the center of the tribunal, a syringe filled with a dark green liquid glinted under the lights. My former fiancé, Rocco, the new Don of the Corleone family, sat on the dais, disgust plain on his face. "Confess. Let everyone see the monster you are behind that mask." Sylvia leaned against his chest, a faint smile on her lips. She thought I would finally break, my reputation in ruins. Shackled to the accused's chair, a smile of faint relief touched my lips. "Rocco, are you sure you want to do this?" "Use that needle, and there's no going back."

I've stood before a priest and sworn my vows to the same man seven times. And for the seventh time, I've signed divorce papers in front of the family lawyer. At our first wedding, the youngest Capo of the Throne family held my hand and promised, "From this day forward, my life is yours and yours alone." But whenever his childhood sweetheart stirred up trouble and needed his protection, Carter's vow to me would conveniently become a sanctuary for her. "Tessa's in trouble again, Maeve. For your own safety, we have to get a divorce for now." The first time I was forced to divorce, I threatened him with the honor of our families' alliance, even vowing to expose his betrayal at a family gathering. His men dragged me out of the manor. The third time I signed the papers, I humbled myself, sneaking into the family's private club just to catch a glimpse of him from afar. By the sixth time, I had learned to quietly pack my few belongings in this house of lies, without putting up a fight. My breakdowns and desperate, undignified attempts to save us were only ever met with Carter's reliable promise to remarry me, just before another round of the divorce game he played for Tessa's sake. Until this time. After hearing Tessa was returning to New York from Italy, I didn't wait for Carter to speak. I placed the signed divorce papers in his study myself. Just like always, he casually set a date for our remarriage. But he didn't know that day was the day I would disappear from his world forever.

To restore my crush's right to inherit his mafia family, I gave him one of my corneas. But when he regained his sight, my family chose to have my older sister marry him instead of me. In my past life, I tried to find him and explain everything, but he rejected me. My own family exiled me, and I died on the night of wedding between him and my sister. Then I'm reborn—back before I was exiled . This time, I choose to leave my Mafia pack and my crush willingly.. But that cold, heartless Mafia Boss? He completely fell apart.

I’m the Chief Counsel for Donatello Vexille, the Godfather of the Vexille family. I’m also his secret wife. At night, he’d pull me close, take me with a ragged violence, leaving his marks on me, a brutal claim I couldn’t refuse. But by day, I was just his lawyer. All he had for me were cold commands. We lived like that for three years. I decided I was done. But he couldn’t know. When I handed him the divorce papers, disguised as a bill of lading, and he signed his name, a breath I didn’t know I was holding finally escaped me. I chased him for seven years and was married to him for three. Whatever was left of my heart finally flatlined. I knew I could never have his. Because it already belonged to someone else: Angelina, his underboss’s sister. He remembered her favorite restaurant. He got blind drunk with joy when she filed for divorce. He even posted his personal guards outside her door. Those were honors I never had. So I tricked him into signing the papers, packed my things, and vanished. What I didn't expect was what he did after I left. He put a king's ransom on my location, and even announced to the whole world that I was his wife.

The Gambino family's highest decree: every Don must be married before taking office. So the moment I came back from studying abroad, my father sent me to intern at the family company run by my fiancé, Ethan Clark—to prepare me for taking over family operations, pave the way for me to become the next Don of the Gambinos, and, you know, build some chemistry between us while we were at it. The first day I walked in, I saw a woman holding court, surrounded by everyone, with everyone deferring to her, calling her "Mrs. Clark" with practiced reverence. She tore up a two-hundred-million-dollar contract, and they all applauded. She spotted the ring on my finger, and they all reached out to take it off for her. I didn't flinch. Didn't panic. "Do you know who can wear this ring?" She scoffed. "An intern. What's the big deal? Take it off." I smiled. This ring is the heirloom of the Gambino heir. Anyone who touches it without permission doesn't live to tell the story. I pulled out my phone and dialed Ethan right in front of her. "Your 'Mrs. Clark' is trying to take my family ring. Care to explain?"

Ten years with Don Maximus. I went from the crazy girl who demanded his "undying loyalty" at gunpoint to Chicago's perfect Donna. When Maximus took the casino's hottest stripper to his private room, I didn't lose my mind. Instead, I tossed the woman the keys to a Manhattan penthouse. When Maximus's new flame threw a tantrum at a yacht party, I didn't bat an eye. Instead, after she slapped a waiter in a fit of pique, I made the police problem go away. When Maximus fought with one of his girls, I'd even send her a limited-edition Birkin to smooth things over. And today, Maximus is busy fucking his hot new toy in the study, while another pregnant mistress stands on the estate's rooftop, threatening to jump just to see him. And I'm still the one in my red-bottom heels, calmly going to clean up his mess. The mistress screamed, desperate. "I'm not having this baby! Get Maximus!" I took a sip of my wine, my voice bored. "He's busy today. You have the baby, and I'll make sure seven figures show up in your offshore account." My indifference set her off. She grabbed my wrist, her grip like iron. "You're pathetic, Angelina! There was a time he wouldn't even look at another woman because of you. He slaughtered an entire family for you. When you were shot, he knelt in the pouring rain outside a church, begging God to take his life for yours! But now? You can't even get into his bed. All you can do is stand here and play the gracious Donna!" Her nails left red marks on my skin, but the smile on my face didn't crack. Did she really think a little drama would change anything? I wasn't playing the gracious Donna. I was just done. And I was finally ready to let Maximus go.

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

The day I married Santino Connor, he went from the infamous heir of a mafia fortune to a broke nobody. When he handed me a plastic ring in a shabby basement and asked if I would start from scratch with him, I looked at the man I had loved since I was a girl and nodded without a second thought. "Santino, as long as it was with you, I would do anything." For him, I worked more than ten hours a day until my stomach bled from the stress. Our son, from the moment he could walk, trailed me from one odd job to the next. I thought my love could eventually build us a life in the sun. Until, at a lavish banquet where I was serving the elite, he showered me with cash from his seat at the head of the table. "What's that thing crawling on the floor? It's blocking my view!" "Take the money and get out of my sight!" When I saw the woman by his side, her face an eerie copy of my own, I finally understood. To him, this was just a game, and I was the only one playing for keeps. If he was going to go to such lengths to deceive me, then it was time for his game to end. What he didn't know was that one month later, he would be tearing the world apart to find me.

I'm going to die. In the eyes of the underworld, I was a sinner. My death would be a final, cursed dishonor. But even with the Ricci family in ruins, I was still the noble Principessa. The Ricci pride in my blood would not allow my body to fall into the hands of a rival Family. Humiliation. Desecration. Photographs flaunted for all to see. I didn't much care if my body became a trophy to celebrate their victory. But if the world knew the last of the Ricci bloodline had become a plaything for our enemies, it would be a disgrace to the entire Family. After weighing my options, I dragged my broken body to the turf of my ex-boyfriend, the man I'd left seven years ago, now the Don of the Falcone family. "After I die, I need you to handle my body." He was silent for a long moment, then let out a cold laugh. "Of course. I'll sink you in the Hudson River with a tombstone tied to your feet, engraved with the name of your filthy family."

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

After our rivals murdered my parents, I had to become something else. A fortress. I held the Blackthorne family together all by myself. My younger sister, Anna, couldn't stand the life—the blood and the fear. She cried, begging me to send her away, to college overseas. I said yes. And the first thing she does when she gets back? She goes to the Commission and accuses me of stealing her inheritance. She said it with this entitled, high-and-mighty tone. "My boyfriend, Victor, the Falcone heir, says I can't lose." "I just want what's mine," she said. "Half of the $8.7 million Mom and Dad left, and half of the Blackthorne family's power. Fair is fair, right?" But she knew damn well she'd already blown through every last cent of that $8.7 million. And the extra ten million I'd earned for her on top of that. That's when it hit me. My sacrifice hadn't just been for nothing. I'd raised a goddamn wolf, and she was insatiable. So this time, I let the kindness die. I gave her a cold smile. "My sweet, naive sister. It's time I showed you how a real Godmother plays."