Mga Maiikling Kuwento at Nobelang Cheating Mafia

When my mother went into kidney failure and needed a transplant, it was Pauline Maynard—on the brink of death herself—who gave my mom a second chance at life. Just before Pauline passed, she gripped my hand tightly and whispered her final words. "Summer, Ricky is my only son. He's rebellious… and fragile. Please, take care of him. Just three years, please?" I gave her my word. Then I moved into their home and gave Ricky everything he needed—love, comfort, a sense of safety. For three years, I stayed true to that promise. By the third year, Ricky had transformed. No longer the wayward boy he once was, he rose to become the Mafia Don Ricky Lenza. And I was carrying his child. As I busied myself with wedding plans, I overheard something I was never meant to hear—his voice, low and mocking, as he wrapped another woman in his arms. "Summer? She's just pretending to love me for the sake of my mother's inheritance and a stupid deal. A gold digger like her dreams of marrying me? What a joke." A sharp pain pierced my chest, like thorns stabbing deep beneath the skin. On the way to a prenatal checkup, we were hit in a crash. My baby didn't make it. And my mother, sitting in the passenger seat, shielded me with her life. When I woke up, I stared blankly at the date on my phone. Three days left. That would've marked the end of the three-year promise. I realized then—I'd paid my debt to Pauline in full. It was time for me to go.

I had been with Lars Carter for six years. The head of Midas Capital in Eastwind City, he was a rising star in Riverton's Silver Street—the heart of this nation's financial world. Few knew his true roots. Within him flowed the Vitalus bloodline. Lars descended from an old mafia clan from the city of Virgil in Vitalus, the Viktors. Midas Capital was ours. We built it from the ground up together; Lars would haunt private clubs, ironing out business deals amid drinks. I would stay by his side, doing the accounts, steering the direction of the negotiations, and memorizing every detail of the high-stakes contracts. We did everything together—a tight team. Or so I thought. In my naivete, I was convinced I would rule the city alongside him. The woman behind the man, so to speak. …Until Pearl Ross arrived two months ago. His childhood sweetheart moved from Virgil to Eastwind City. It was then that I knew—she was the one he was waiting for all along. It had always been her. "Lars, I want to get married." Lars' face tightened; hesitation veiled in businesslike concern. "Bianca, you know the company's at a critical stage… We're mid-fundraising. I can't right now." I smiled, calm and composed. "That's fine." He misunderstood. I was getting married—just not to him.

It is the final day for the high school students to submit their university application forms, and I find out that someone has swapped out my and Ned Nicholson's application forms for Jafferton College instead. In a panic, I hurry off to find Ned to tell him about it, but I end up overhearing a conversation between him and one of his friends instead. "Ned, you promised Miranda Montez that you would both apply for Hale University together. Why did you secretly swap out both your application forms for Jafferton College instead? Aren't you worried that Miranda's going to make a huge fuss about it?" Ned sounds confident as he replies, "She won't. She'll listen to whatever I say. She'll be fine with it as long as she's still in the same college as I am." He pauses for a while before continuing in an impatient voice. "Scarlett Jordan can't get into Hale University. It's beyond her. She's going to be really scared if she has to go to Westward to study on her own, so I promised her that I'd go to the same college she was going to. "I mean, Jafferton College isn't that bad. Miranda wouldn't mind it at all." I stay silent for a long while before leaving quietly, pretending that I never heard a thing. I withdrew my application form for Jafferton College and submitted a new form for Dayward University instead. We made a promise to each other that we would start dating after getting into university. But since he's breaking his promise for someone else's sake, I decide to leave him quietly and go after my own dreams instead.

Vincenzo Moretti was Stonehaven’s youngest financial titan— a tech mogul commanding a multibillion-dollar empire, gracing the covers of business magazines as a modern legend. But only a select few knew the truth: he was also the ruthless Don controlling the East Coast mafia. To him, wealth and power were mere chips in a game. And I? I was just another pawn used to stabilize a fragile family alliance. In our ten-year marriage, he slept with my friends, my coworkers… every single person I once trusted. Then one morning, as I took our one-month-old baby for a routine checkup, Sienna Newton, his latest mistress, ran me down with her car. The baby screamed endlessly. I begged her to take us to the hospital, and when Vincenzo arrived, he looked at me with cold disdain. “Isabella,” he sneered, “when did you learn to stage accidents? “Even if you died here, I wouldn’t bat an eye.” Then he took Sienna’s hand and walked away without a backward glance. By the time I was rushed to the hospital, the child in my arms had suffocated. Upon hearing the news, my mother suffered a heart attack. She didn’t survive. I slipped into a coma for two days. When I finally woke up, I found out that Vincenzo never visited. Instead, his father, Renato Moretti, the true king of the Moretti empire, stood by my bedside. I looked at him calmly and said, “Let me go. Whatever I owed your family, I’ve repaid in full with two lives.” Later, that same Don who had once looked down on me knelt before me, begging me to come home. But I was no longer the woman who waited, silent and broken, for his change of heart. I was the Don’s wife who turned away and never looked back.

The casino my husband and I ran was about to go through a chaotic police raid. Anyone who got caught would likely end up arrested. We had the time to leave. But we couldn’t all leave. One of us had to stay behind, or the cops would keep chasing us. Elias, my charming husband, didn’t even hesitate. He grabbed Mireille and left me to handle the cops, tossing over his shoulder, “I’ll send a lawyer to you.” Lucky for me, I managed to walk away without any consequences. And then, I saw, Elias, the man who was supposed to have my back, not only did escape without me, he also whisked Mireille away to some fancy resort, like they were on vacation. He looked so carefree, so unbothered. Not a hint of concern for the wife he’d just abandoned. “Think Seraphina’s gonna be mad that we left without her?” Mireille asked, all innocence. Elias laughed, that cold, detached laugh that sent a shiver down my spine. “Please. As if she’d ever get mad at me. She can handle herself.” He didn’t care. But you know what? Neither do I. Not anymore.

Seven years ago, it was love at first sight when I met Lucas Yates, who was still a nameless thug at the time. For him, I chose to leave my wealthy family. After seven years of dating, he throws me a grand wedding the day he finally becomes the head of Devil's Advocate, a mafia organization. On the day of our wedding, his childhood friend, Yelena Jackman, crashes the venue. She confesses her love for Lucas, but he rejects her without any hesitation, vowing he will only ever love me in this life. Just as we're exchanging rings, Lucas' enemies show up to cause trouble. When he sees the gun pointing at me, he lunges forward to protect me without a second thought. Yelena, who should have run, takes three bullets while protecting Lucas and falls into a coma due to severe blood loss. Overwhelmed by guilt, Lucas sends her to the best hospital in the world. I have the same blood type as Yelena, so in the attempt to save her life, I donate so much blood that I go into shock. Guilt leaves me with sleepless nights. Every day, I pray she'll wake up. I'm even willing to look after her for the rest of my life if I have to. Lucas keeps comforting me, saying that I don't need to feel so guilty, as Yelena did all of it of her own volition. He says he'll take up the responsibility of making it up to her. I'm extremely grateful to Yelena for saving Lucas and allowing me to have such a wonderful husband. However, on the day of our third wedding anniversary, I receive a mysterious message. "Lucille, you shameless homewrecker! I'm his lawfully wedded wife! If you know what's good for you, you'd better scram and go as far away as you can. If you don't believe me, you can always head to City Hall to see just who is registered as Lucas' lawful wife!"

I secretly sent Lena Parker, my husband Dominic Caballero's mistress, away to Sicara. I'm defying his authority as the Don of Coastwick, New Hudson. That very night, he abducts my parents and younger brother, using their lives to force me to reveal Lena's whereabouts. Dominic pushes his phone in front of me. On the screen, I see my family tied to chairs, the timer of the bombs ticking down. 00:59:59 00:59:58 He sits across from me and taps his fingers softly against the table, like he's closing a business deal. "Alyssa, you have 59 minutes," Dominic says in a calm, almost gentle voice. "Where's Lena?" I freeze, my throat tightening as if strangled. I can't get a word out. This is the third time he's pressed me. The first time, he asked where Lena had gone, but I stayed silent. The second time, he grabbed my chin and said in a low voice, "Alyssa, don't play games." Now, for the third time, he's threatening my family's lives. "Dominic…" I call out, my voice trembling. "They're my family. They're the most important people to me." He chuckles. "Is that so? Then why didn't you think about how important Lena is to me when you sent her away?" I stare at him, feeling how utterly absurd it all is. Important? He told me before that other women were just playthings. Once he got bored, he'd dump them. He swore I was the only one he loved. But now, for Lena, he's willing to kill my family.

My husband, Damien, loved me deeply—so deeply it felt like I was his whole world. Everyone said he was the perfect husband. Yet, he betrayed me. Not once, not twice, but three times. The first time was three years ago. His closest friend, Aaron, died saving him. Damien kept it from me and secretly married Aaron’s girlfriend, Vivian—on paper. I was heartbroken and ready to leave him. That night, he sent her abroad and fell to his knees, begging me. “Estelle, Aaron gave his life for me. I must take care of his widow. That marriage certificate is just a promise of security for Vivian. Once I’ve avenged Aaron, I’ll divorce her. The only woman I love is you.” I forgave him. The second time came the following year. At a press conference, Damien publicly introduced Vivian as the Mafia leader’s wife. He pulled me aside to explain. “Vivian is the only daughter of the Young family—the Mafia. Our two families joined forces for one reason only: to get revenge for Aaron. I’ve already made arrangements with her. Once we’ve dealt with our enemies, I’ll divorce her and marry you right away.” Once again, I believed him. Then came the third time. Someone drugged Damien at a banquet, and he spent the night with Vivian. He hid it from me until just two weeks ago, when I caught him at the hospital, sitting beside her during a prenatal checkup. That was when I finally learned the truth. He lowered his head, unable to meet my eyes, and spoke in a low voice. “Estelle, it was an accident. Once she gives birth, I’ll send her away. My parents will raise the child, and I swear—neither of them will ever appear in your life again.” In the name of love, Damien pushed me to compromise again and again. Yet now I know. There’s no future left for us. It’s time for me to walk away.

The year my boyfriend is dead broke, I leave him. Later, he becomes a mafia boss and uses every means at his disposal to marry me. Everyone says that I am the first love he can never forget, the wife he cares about the most. However, he then starts bringing home a different woman every night, making me a laughingstock. Still, I don't cry or make a fuss. I quietly stay in my own room, never interrupting his affairs. Elton Carter is furious. He pins me beneath him, kisses me harshly, and growls, "Aren't you jealous?" He has no idea that I'm gravely ill. He could buy half the city with violence, threats, and money. He could buy my freedom, my marriage… and each night bring a different woman home, oblivious to the truth. Little does he know, I have just seven days left to live.

I've been in a secret relationship with Declan Gibson for five years, and I've tried to seduce him more times than I can count. Yet, when I stand in front of him in my birthday suit and a pair of bunny ears, all he does is worry that I'll catch a cold and wrap me in a blanket. I used to think his restraint came from being the mafia don, that he was saving our first time for our wedding night. However, one month before the ceremony, he secretly plans the city's grandest fireworks show to celebrate his childhood sweetheart's birthday. They hug and share a slice of cake in public. That night, they check into a hotel. … The next morning, I watch them leave together. That's when I realize Declan is not restrained. He just doesn't love me, so I walk out of the hotel. I call my parents. "Dad, I've broken up with Declan. I'll marry into the Sullivan family as planned." My father is stunned. "I thought you were madly in love with Declan. Why did you break up? I heard Bryson can't have children. You've always loved kids. What will you do once you marry him?" "It's fine," I reply, disheartened. "We can always adopt."

The Vale family was the most powerful mafia syndicate in the New York City. And I—along with a few other carefully chosen girls—had been handpicked to join their ranks, trained from the ground up so that the next head of the family could choose his wife from among us. Wife. That was the kinder word for it. The truth was whoever got picked would become his shield, his weapon, his most loyal protector. Someone who would kill for him. Die for him. Years passed. One by one, the others fell away. In the end, only Elara Quinn and I remained. And then, Elara died—killed on a secret mission. After that, there were no more choices left. I became Adrian Vale’s wife by default. I had given everything to Adrian. And I loved him. I thought he loved me too until I took a bullet to the chest—meant for him. As I lay there, barely breathing, I heard Adrian talking to his assistant, “Don’t bury her in the Vale cemetery. My half is reserved for Elara.” That was it. Elara—who had never even lived long enough to marry him—still had a space carved beside him in death. I? I had taken the hit that should have ended him… and yet I wasn’t even good enough to be buried near him. I slowly closed my eyes. And when I opened them again, I was back on the day the Vale family formally announced Adrian as their new head. The day everything began.

When I pushed through the main door, covered in blood, I found my amnesiac husband right on top of my best friend. His arm was wrapped around her waist with practiced ease, and she was passionately reciprocating his advances. "Ada will be devastated if she finds out…" Camilla said in a sweet voice through bated breaths. "After all, she really thinks you've lost your memories." Lucio chuckled softly and said in a mocking tone, "It's not my fault she loves me that much. Then again, it's a good thing for me since I can just let her do all the tough and dirty work." He leaned down and planted a kiss on Camilla's lips, mumbling, "Right now, you're the only one I recognize as my wife. Just wait. Once I sign the deal with the Della Veras, I'll have her kicked out and pass everything she owns to you. After all, I no longer remember a thing." Only then did it hit me. My husband's amnesia was all an act, a farce to fool me. Moreover, my best friend conspired with him to stab me in the back. Too bad they didn't know that the Della Vera family, the most feared Mafia family in Ritelle, only acknowledged one person: Me, Ada Rossi.

My husband, Damien Falcone, had 99 lovers. And I was the mafia princess men lined up to die for. The day we got together, everyone in our world took bets. They said we wouldn't last three months. But then , everything changed. For me, he wiped his phone clean, built a rose manor, and got down on one knee. Then, on our wedding night, he told me he wanted an open marriage. "Our bodies can play," he said. "But our loyalty? That's just for us." I agreed. Then came his 100th lover, Sophia Ricci. She betrayed our family in an arms deal. Almost got my father killed. But Damien protected her. He even moved her into our home. So, I did what any heartbroken mafia princess would do. I got drunk and woke up in another man's bed. I just didn't know that man was Damien's uncle.

I married Kael Throne—the infamous king of New York’s mafia—not for his power, not for his fortune, but because I loved him. He was unlike any man I’d ever known. A man who could have a thousand women at his feet, yet dismissed them all with a single glance. I believed his faithful love until the day I learned the existence of a college girl. He’d “respected” me enough to keep her hidden… until I forced the truth into the light. Kael didn’t rage. He didn’t deny it. He only looked at me with that calm, dangerous gaze and said, “Then we divorce.” I refused. He offered me his money, his casino, his everything. Still I said no. Because I loved him. That’s when his love turned black. He had me kidnapped. My mother, too. All to force my signature on those papers. “You found out,” he said, almost bored. “And there’s no more fun in hiding. Leave now, Vivienne. Give me—and Nyssa—our happy ending.” I watched as the man he’d sent slit my mother’s throat. My answer came too late. Kael Throne was a monster. I collapsed, my head cracking against the floor. And when I opened my eyes… I was back on the day I first learned Nyssa existed. This time, I didn’t confront him. I played the perfect wife, smiling sweetly while I waited for the perfect moment to vanish from his life forever. I just never imagined that when I finally disappeared… Kael would lose his mind.

My wedding to Don Lorenzo Corsica was always 'almost.' Five years engaged. Thirty-two weddings. Every single one crashed and burned. Then came number thirty-three. Halfway through, the chapel wall caved in. I landed in the ICU. Skull fracture. Major concussion. A dozen critical alerts. Two months stuck between life and death. Then I clawed my way back. On discharge day, I caught him talking to his right-hand guy. "Don, if you're really into that scholarship girl, just dump Ms. Mortoro," the guy said. "Corsicas can kill gossip. No need for staged accidents... She nearly died." Lorenzo went quiet. Then finally, "I owed her parents. They died for me. Marrying her was the only way to repay that. But I love Sofia. She's the one I want." I looked down at my stitched-up body and cried without a sound. So it wasn't fate that wrecked me. It was him. If he couldn't choose, I'd do it for him.

Everyone in the Rossi family knows that their Don, Giovanni Rossi, loves me, Rebecca Costa, more than anyone else. Ever since we got together, he has stopped attending any social events that involve other women. We promised to marry once he returns from negotiating a dangerous arms deal in Aelfana. He was supposed to come back a week before the wedding, but instead, he returned on the eve of the wedding with Rosa Bianchi, his stepsister, in his arms. Rosa was unconscious, and traces of intimacy were visible on her skin. Giovanni kneeled before me, his expression remorseful. "Rebecca… I was drugged. I never meant to betray you. When Rosa threw herself at me, I thought she was you." And I believed him. At least, I did until I overheard a conversation in the changing room backstage at our wedding. One of his men asks, in disbelief, "Did you really mistake her for Rebecca?" "I did for the first night. But for the rest of the week… well, a man ought to have his bit of freedom before getting married." My fingers clench around my phone. In my inbox sits an unopened message—a marriage invitation from Angelo Calavaro, the most enigmatic Don in southern Ilya's underworld. I know what I have to do.

I used to be that girl in the mafia—envied, untouchable. Orlando Leone, the big bad Don everyone feared, had eyes only for me. I took a bullet for him. After that? People whispered I couldn't have kids. He tried to shut them up by knocking me up—ninety-nine tries. Try number ten? His shiny new secretary texted, all confused over a decimal. He bailed on me. By thirty, she crashed his sports car while shopping. Claimed she couldn't park. I was left freezing in a bathtub. He said he loved me, but when it counted, he always picked the girl who played dumb and helpless. That's when it hit me—his love was never really mine. And by the time I disappeared for real, he lost his mind looking. Too bad. Me and that promise? Already buried at sea.

“I need your help to fake a private jet crash,” I said quietly. “It’s the only way I can ever leave Luca Moretti.” People said he’d given up the Mafia throne for me. They called him the man who traded power for love— the heir who walked away from blood and gold just to marry a waitress from the slums. For years, he made the world believe in us. He built empires under my name. He sent me roses every Monday. He told the press I was his salvation. But love doesn’t always mean loyalty. While I was busy believing in forever, he was building a second home behind my back— one filled with laughter, toys, and twin sons who had his eyes. The night I disappeared, his empire burned. He tore apart cities, bribed governments, and buried men alive just to find me. But by the time he did— I was already gone. And the woman he’d once died for no longer loved him enough to stay alive.

My best friend, Maya, flew in from Miami for my bachelorette week. My last days of freedom. She insisted on a girls' night in to celebrate, ordering all my favorite takeout. She asked me to hold her mobile phone and wait.Then her phone lit up. A message from some guy. A shirtless pic. Text: I need you tonight. Another photo buzzed through. Sex toys. Bondage gear straight out of a movie. My face burned. My heart hammered against my ribs. I’d just stumbled into her secret life. But the next image made my blood run cold. A close-up of the man's chest. A jagged scar I knew better than my own reflection. It belonged to my fiancé, Luciano Carbone.

On the day we were supposed to get our marriage license, the groom's name was swapped out. The woman my boyfriend was now promised to—the pampered mafia princess nestled in his arms—looked at me with a triumphant smile. "Isn't it perfect?" she sneered. "A fraud of a bride for a fake heir. What a match." I ignored her and turned to the man I loved. This was the man who endured three days of brutal punishment just for the right to marry me, when the Rossi family first acknowledged him as their true heir. Now, he just nodded along with her. "Don't be so dramatic. It's a joke. You're not actually mad, are you? It's just a piece of paper. Once Sienna's had her fun, you two get a divorce, and then it'll be our turn. I promise." I smiled. Then I turned and walked straight to the so-called "fake" heir. "The marriage license is filed, honey," I said. "Let's go plan our real wedding."