Familial Bond Mafia 단편 소설 & Countdown 소설

After I discovered that my Mafia husband, Don Dante Amato, still couldn't let go of his first love, Bianca, and the son she had with another man, I taught our son to call him "Don Amato." When our son came down with a fever, Bianca called my husband away in the middle of the night. I stroked his burning forehead and taught him to say, "Goodbye, Don Amato." Dante had promised to present our son to the whole Amato Family at a family dinner — to formally announce him as the future heir. Yet on the night of the dinner, Bianca called, crying that her own son had no father by his side. Dante left without a second thought. I didn't argue. I just had our son stand in front of the entire Family and explain, "Don Amato has someone more important to take care of." It wasn't until Dante finally realized how disappointed we were in him that he suggested we take a family portrait together. Outside the photo studio, Bianca called again, crying for Dante's help. "Dante, the kids at daycare are making fun of Gabe for not having a dad. Can you come pick him up and pretend to be his father?" Dante looked conflicted. He turned to our son, as if about to explain everything. But this time, our son didn't need my reminder. He waved Dante off. "It's okay, Don Amato. Go take care of the other child. Mom and I will manage the family photo just fine."

Bianca and I were switched before birth. She became the beloved daughter of both families. I became the girl neither one wanted. Every month, I carried a suitcase between two guest rooms while Bianca kept a bedroom, parents, and a place at the table in both estates. Then Bianca was diagnosed with a deadly blood disorder, and both families demanded that I become her stem cell donor. There was only one problem. My donor screening showed that I might be seriously ill too. They refused to read my medical report. They called my nosebleed an attention-seeking stunt. Then they forced me to voluntarily surrender every claim to both families before they would pay for my tests. The next day, I learned the truth. I had acute leukemia. Bianca had never completed the examination required to prove she was sick. I sent both families the evidence. They still didn't believe me. When they asked what I thought, I smiled and agreed to let them fly Bianca to Europe for treatment. They praised me for finally learning. While Bianca received treatment overseas, I suffered a fatal brain hemorrhage alone. As I took my final breath, I couldn't help wondering. Would they finally regret never thinking to spend more time with me?

I have been able to smell people's emotions since I was a child. Love is sweet, and sadness is bitter. After being with Dante for ten years, the scent on him had always been sweet. Until last month, when my sister Sofia agreed to the arranged marriage with the Colombo family. In that very moment, the scent on him abruptly turned bitter. That night, I heard their suppressed voices: "Sofia, you clearly love me too, so why are you marrying that useless man?" My sister cried back at him: "You are Gia's fiancé, and she is my sister. We cannot continue this mistake." Only then did I realize the truth. My fiancé had been in love with my sister all along. I canceled the engagement party and booked a flight to Sicily in three days. But why was it that only after I left did they both go mad with regret?

When my parents divorced, their lawyers drafted a custody agreement. My sister and I would live with separate parents, then switch homes at the start of every school year. The handoff happened every August at La Serata, the Moretti family's restaurant. Every year, my parents fought over who got more time with Sofia. "Come to St. Barts with me for Thanksgiving," Mom coaxed. Dad's face hardened. "Sofia is with me this year. She spends the holidays with me." Mom pulled up her calendar. "You dumped her on me for nineteen extra days last year. I get those days back. Every single one." "Two of those days were school overnights. They don't count." Sofia rested her chin on one hand and gave them the helpless smile of a princess burdened by too much devotion. "If only there were two of me." Half an hour later, my parents compromised by booking the trip together. Only then did Sofia glance my way. "What about Emilia?" Dad picked up his water and looked past me. "She's not my responsibility this year." Mom finally met my eyes. "The hotel group closes an acquisition next month. I don't have time for this. St. Gabriel still has rooms in the senior dorm. You'll board there." They had just counted every hour Sofia had spent away from them. When it came to me, they could hand off an entire year without blinking. Under the table, I smoothed the napkin I had crushed in my fist. My phone lit up. [Ms. Harper: Your record puts several top East Coast schools within reach. Westbridge Institute's research scholarship would also be a great fit. Which one is your first choice?] I looked at California on the other side of the map and typed my answer. [Westbridge.] Three thousand miles ought to be far enough to leave my family for good.

After I came of age, I entered the Gallo family's trial period. Only those who passed the family's trials within five years would earn the right to wear the family crest. Anyone who failed would be sent to the shooting range as a live target. This year's trial was to seize a weapons shipment at the port. I was the first to locate the weapons cache, but when Vera blundered into the ambush, I had to stay behind and clean up the mess to save her. After the fierce gunfight, my team's casualties ended up exactly one more than Vera's. At the crest ceremony, my mother Carmela once again pinned the family crest to Vera Gallo's chest, smiling with satisfaction. "Vera brought back the weapons with the fewest casualties. She passes the trial again this year, without question. "Not that the crest needs to be awarded twice, but Elsa, you really aren't as capable as Vera. Better luck next time." Better luck next time. I'd been hearing those exact words for four years straight. Ever since Vera was brought back four years ago, I, the adopted orphan, had become the most unwelcome person in the house. Because she claimed everything I had should have been hers. The moment she heard that Carmela had treated me well, she'd spiral into hysterics and threaten to kill herself. From then on, I waited four years and never once received the crest from Carmela's hands. This time, I was done waiting. I was going home. My real home.

Seven years ago, the Vitale family and the Alberti family forged an alliance through marriage. But on the day of the wedding, my older sister ran away with a cobbler. To keep the two families from turning on each other then and there, my father disowned her on the spot. Then he shoved me, still dressed in my bridesmaid gown, into the dressing room. Half an hour later, I walked out in my sister’s wedding dress and married Jonathan Alberti, the Alberti family heir, a man notorious throughout Sicily for his ruthlessness from a young age. And yet, in the seven years that followed, he never treated me badly. Whenever I got myself into trouble, he cleaned up the mess. Once, someone mocked me at a party for being the bride who had taken my sister’s place. The next day, that man’s body was found floating in the Mediterranean. I thought seven years was long enough for a man to forget the woman he had once intended to marry. Little by little, I fell for him too. Until the day my sister appeared at the gates of the estate, disheveled and desperate, with a six-year-old boy beside her. “My husband is dead. I…” She never even had to finish asking. All the resentment Jonathan had carried over her running away vanished with a few tears. That very night, my sister and her son moved into the estate. Jonathan stood outside her door, watching her. And from the turn of the staircase, I stood watching him. I gave a bitter smile and made a phone call. Now that my sister was back, it was time for the stand-in bride to step aside.

My husband was the Don of the DeLuca Family. As his Donna, I had spent years tolerating his indulgence of his stepsister. That was, until My five-year-old son and my husband's beloved stepsister were strapped to ticking time bombs. My terrified little boy screamed for me. As the DeLuca Family's lead bomb disposal expert, I knew I could save him. But my husband Matteo, the Don who ruled a mafia empire, pressed a cold gun barrel between my eyes. "Disarm Lilia's bomb first, or I'll shoot our son myself." He gave the order without a flicker of emotion, all to protect the stepsister who had perfected the helpless-innocent act. I could only watch as Noah vanished in a ball of fire. But Matteo forgot something. I wasn't merely his wife. I was the intelligence and explosives expert who kept his entire weapons empire alive. When I ripped his precious Family out by the roots and returned on the arm of his greatest enemy, the untouchable Don finally broke. He dropped to his knees and begged me to come back.

My family hates me for causing my brother's death. From then on, I become a child no one loves. Meanwhile, my cousin, Evelyn Green, who looks like my brother, becomes the apple of my parents' eyes. From the age of ten to 18, my days are a cycle of beatings and forced apologies. On my 18th birthday, Evelyn wears a gorgeous gown and basks in everyone's adoration, while I'm shoved around in a maid's uniform and hit like I'm not even human. In my darkest moment, Morgan Oakley, the mafia boss, saves me. He takes me home, and step by step, wins his way into my heart. Because of him, I learn what love can feel like. He treats me like a treasure and promises me forever. However, on the day we're supposed to register our marriage, he keeps me waiting for a whole day and night. He never shows up. As I'm about to leave, my phone starts buzzing. A text from Morgan pops up. "Jasmine, I'm sorry. I ran into an enemy and couldn't make it to the city hall. A storm's coming, so make sure you get home quick!" My heart clenches in panic. I'm about to text back and ask if he's okay when Evelyn's message comes right after his. "Jasmine, I'm the one he loves. He skipped marrying you today because of me. You must be devastated, right?" Then, she sends a video. In it, Morgan holds her gently, his voice soft as he comforts her. "Evie, don't cry. You once saved my life, so I'll do anything for you. If you don't want me to marry Jasmine, then I won't. I love you. I only took her in so I could keep her close. That way, she'd be right there when you needed blood." My parents were off to the side. They chimed in tenderly, "Don't cry, Evie. Morgan loves you. He only pursued Jasmine because of your condition. You have a coagulation disorder and need transfusions of Rh-negative blood whenever you get hurt." I stagger back when I hear that, dropping my phone to the ground. So, Morgan's sudden passion is laced with poison. He only pretends to love me just so he can turn me into Evelyn's walking blood bank! Everyone goes to so much trouble to hide the truth from me just so Evelyn doesn't need to suffer from her condition! Rain mixes with my tears as they slide down my face. I stare at my phone on the pavement as bitterness floods me. A thought forms—I want to leave them forever. I want to disappear so they'll never find me again.

On my sixth birthday, my older sister, Bettina Moretti, gives me a cake with a message written in frosting. It reads, "Happy Sixth Anniversary of the Day We Found You!" I burst into tears and run to my parents, desperate to know if it's true. My father, Vittorio Moretti, nods. "That's right. If your sister hadn't begged us to take you home, you probably would've frozen to death next to a dumpster." My mother, Elisabetta Russo, pats me on the head. "Your sister saved your life, Alessia Moretti. You owe her a debt you'll never be able to repay. Don't forget that." From that day on, Bettina always comes first. When she refuses to go through the family's grueling advanced combat training, I take her place without hesitation. Even when my ribs get broken, I don't dare complain. I don't want my family to think I'm a burden. But no matter how much I sacrifice, even when I put my life on the line, my parents only ever praise Bettina. "She's the pride and joy of the Moretti family!" Then, this Christmas, I come home to the estate early and find Bettina doubled over with laughter in our aunt, Giulia Moretti's arms. "Seriously, is Alessia an idiot? She actually thinks she's adopted! I made that up when we were kids, and she's believed it all these years!" Giulia stares at her in disbelief. "Wait, you never told her you were joking?" My father scoffs. "Why would we? It's just a harmless joke." My mother chimes in. "Exactly. Besides, if Alessia finds out she's our biological daughter and Bettina's the one we adopted, what if she starts picking on Bettina?" A sharp pain shoots through my chest. I clutch at it as my legs give out beneath me. For years, I've kept quiet about how sick I am, forcing myself to endure the pain because I'm terrified of being a burden to my family. Two days ago, I finally saved up enough money to see a doctor. But he told me I've waited too long to get treatment. I have only five days left to live. Suddenly, I taste blood in the back of my throat. "Papa, Mamma... if I die, you won't have to worry about me bullying Bettina anymore, will you?"

When my stepsister took my bedroom, my birthday party, and the sewing case my mother had left me, my father told me to be generous. A Moretti daughter could afford it, he said. My brother and Luca took me to a bakery that night. Between them, they bought the biggest strawberry cake in the window. “You still have us,” Luca promised. For nine years, I believed him. Then, just before our wedding, Matteo bought back my mother's missing pendant, and Luca found the bridal coat she'd made for me before she died. I thought they understood what those things meant. Until Valentina came downstairs wearing both. “I only wanted to see how it felt,” she said, her eyes filling. “I've never really belonged here.” My brother stepped between us before I could speak. Luca reached for my hand, already preparing to ask me to be kind. “You're going to be my wife, Emilia. She just needs to feel safe.” He loved me. I knew that. What I no longer knew was whether being loved by him would ever mean being chosen when it mattered. That evening, I canceled the wedding and accepted a job at my mother's struggling couture house in Paris. By the time the future Don came looking for his bride, I had returned the family ring—and left him no wedding to save.

My husband, Severo Falcone, is the Don who rules Sicara's criminal underworld. His days are filled with high-stakes negotiations and bloody turf wars. So, over the years, I've grown accustomed to his absence from our lives. On our wedding anniversary, he was negotiating by the docks. When our daughter, Lucia Falcone, attended her first family gathering, he was called away to deal with a territorial dispute. Even on Lucia's fifth birthday, all he offers is a promise over the phone. "Something's come up tonight. I'll make it up to her when I'm done." I think nothing of it. Then, half an hour later, Ylenia Bianchi sends me a photo. At a private clinic, Severo is sitting by her bed, personally tending to her wounds. The message attached to her photo is just as brazen. "Whenever I need him, he will always show up." In that moment, everything falls into place. I've always believed the family business was keeping him away from us. Turns out, he's been spending that time with her all along. He isn't too busy. He simply prioritizes Ylenia over his own wife and daughter every single time. Holding back tears, I turn to Lucia after she blows out her birthday candles. "What did you wish for, Lucia?" Lucia flashes me a sweet, innocent smile. "I wish for the two of us to stay together forever! I want you to be happy every day, Mamma. I hope you can go wherever you want and do whatever you want!" I smile and kiss her forehead. "I'll make sure your wish comes true." That very night, I book two plane tickets to leave Sicara in seven days.

My son, Jasper Cole, won the gold prize in an art competition. When I took off my apron and rushed to the award ceremony, I found that the painting titled 'Mother' was not of me but Maeve Leighton, my husband's secretary. Maeve pretended to be troubled as she told my son, "Your mom will be sad when she sees this painting." However, Jasper was unperturbed. "What does her sadness have to do with me? She's an ordinary-looking and incompetent housewife, always nagging me about what I can and can’t do. She's too strict with me. It's annoying! Maeve, I wish you were my mother. My dad doesn't like my mom at all. He's only happy when he's with you. He's only with my mom because he feels obligated." My heart broke at that moment. Since he no longer wanted me as his mother, it was pointless for me to stay. I called my dad. "Dad, I want to go home. Can you pick me up?" My dad could not believe it. He answered after a long pause, "Of course. I'll come pick up my brilliant daughter in three days."

My mother dragged me out of my biological father's brutality, and I thought we had finally escaped. Then she married the Don of the Falcone family. The woman who once fought to protect me completely changed. To secure my stepfather's approval and coddle his beloved Sofia, she stood by and let them turn me into a servant in the house I was supposed to call home. Every time I pushed back, they pushed harder. Every time I begged to be seen, I was met with contempt. My biological father's fists left scars on my body. This family's marks went deeper—into my bones. So I stopped. If they never wanted me there, I would stop breaking myself for their hollow approval. I would take my own life back. In seven days, I would leave. Harvard acceptance in hand—Boston waiting.

Nine months ago, my younger sister Bianca and I were kidnapped at the Chicago docks. She saved me from an attacker. But when she woke in the hospital, she couldn't remember who she was. Instead, she believed my fiancé, Adrian De Luca, was the man she loved. My family begged me to play along until she recovered. “It's only an act,” Adrian promised. “Once she's better, everything goes back to normal.” Because Bianca had saved my life, I agreed. Then our engagement trip to Sicily became her recovery trip with Adrian. She moved into the lakefront safe house Adrian and I had chosen for our marriage. My fingerprint access was erased, our bedroom was redecorated for her, and my clothes disappeared from the closet. Everyone made the same promise: once Bianca’s memory returned, they would give back everything that belonged to me. Nine months later, she walked down the aisle at the Blackstone Hotel in the ivory wedding gown made for me. Adrian stood waiting at the altar, and the De Luca family crest bracelet he had given me was fastened around her wrist. My mother leaned close. “It’s only a wedding staged for her treatment. Don’t make a scene.” I looked at the bracelet. Someone had resized it to fit Bianca perfectly. That was when I understood. No one intended to give me my life back. I didn’t argue or cry. I opened the London partnership offer I had rejected nine times and accepted it. My flight left in four days. This time, they would learn how to live without me.

I came home from a business trip. My daughter Anna threw herself into my arms and held up a hand-strung necklace she had clearly worked hard on. "Mommy, this is the birthday present I made for Mommy Lena. She's going to love it, right?" My heart dropped. Lena was my husband Preston's secretary. My daughter remembered her birthday. She had forgotten that today was mine. It wasn't the first time. She was always attached to Lena, hanging off her arm and asking, "Mommy Lena, when are you and Daddy taking me back to the amusement park?" Even when she ran a fever, the name she called out over and over was Mommy Lena. I corrected her, disappointed. "Anna, I'm your mommy, not Lena." But Anna pushed me away and shouted, "You're the bad mommy! I don't want you! I want Mommy Lena to be my mommy forever!" In that moment I could almost hear my own heart cracking. A second later, Preston shoved the door open. He scooped up the wailing Anna and turned on me. "Winnie, what kind of mother are you? Your child is crying like this and you can't even be bothered! "Anna's right. As a mother you're not half of what Lena is. I honestly don't know what I was thinking when I married you!" I watched their backs disappear down the hall and felt something go out in me. So this was what it had bought me. Six years ago I gave up my name and my claim as heir to the Family, all for love, and what I got in return was the contempt of my husband and my daughter. If that was how it was, then it was time for me to go home to the Family.

In the Valenti Family, you're born with a chip. It's fused into the bio-watch on your wrist, its digital face counting down every second you have left to live. Everyone could see the numbers ticking down on my twin sister's watch. And on mine. They all knew she would die on our 18th birthday. So Vivian became the untouchable princess of our brutal world. Every diamond-stitched gown was hers. The rarest jewels were hers. Even our father's last shred of humanity was hers. That single sliver of warmth he showed only after his gun was holstered. I used to pity her. Her time was running out. But God, I envied her. She had everything I never did: our parents' love. Then, the night of her 18th birthday party. My parents worried I'd make a scene. That I'd piss off the Don of an allied Family. So they locked me in the cellar. Damp. Cold. While a deadly fever burned through me. I pounded on the heavy oak door, my voice cracking. "Mamma, please! Let me out! I'm burning up. My head is splitting open…" Outside, my mother's voice was a steel trap. "Enough, Sienna! Today is your sister’s 18th birthday. Her last day alive! Stop the theatrics! Can't you suffer in silence for the Family's honor?" "But I'm really sick..." Her footsteps clicked away, fading into nothing. Then the darkness swallowed me whole. And on my wrist, the bio-watch was flashing a critical alert. CRITICAL ALERT: Vital signs mismatch. Paired chip data incompatible. Please verify user.

Reborn as the long-lost Rogers heir, missing for fifteen years, I avoided every chance to bond with my two brothers in this family. When they tossed me Vivi’s discarded, ill-fitting gown for the family gala, I smiled and put it on. When they sent Vivi to get an elite education while ordering me to scrub the utility room, I picked up the mop without a word. When they let Vivi chase love and dumped her rejected suitor on me, I didn’t fight. I accepted her leftovers with a calm nod. This was all because in my past life, I had spent my entire life desperate for my brothers' approval, only to end up despised by everyone for it. When I died in the crossfire of a gangland shootout, my own son pushed my body away in disgust. "Mom, did you really waste your whole life on such a petty fight with Aunt Vivi? Dying for the family would have been a more dignified end. At least then you wouldn't have disgraced our name." I left this world filled with resentment, only to open my eyes and find myself back at the moment I first set foot in the Rogers estate. This time, I'm done fighting. The power, the name, the honor. I'm letting them have it all. I’ve already been accepted into a closed-door medical project. Soon they will never see me again.

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.

In my first life, I was finally brought back to the Moretti family as their biological daughter. Then Sofia—the girl they had raised for twenty-six years—died. From that day on, I became the person they blamed. They never threw me out. They simply spent the next ten years making sure I understood that I could have the Moretti name, their blood, and their inheritance—but I would never be the daughter they truly loved. Then our yacht sank. My parents gave me the last life ring. My brother pushed me toward shore until the freezing water took the strength from his body. Before they died, they finally told me the truth. “If we had never brought you back, Sofia would still be alive.” “If there’s a next life, don’t come looking for us again.” I died in that ocean too. When I opened my eyes, I was back seven days before the Moretti family officially recognized me This time, I didn’t go home. I signed the North Star Project agreement instead. In seven days, my identity would be erased from every public system, and I would disappear for at least ten years. My parents were still preparing my recognition banquet. My brother still thought I was only angry. None of them knew I had decided to grant their final wish from our last life. Sofia could remain their only daughter. And I would disappear from their lives completely. Seven days later, a car carrying my identity plunged off a cliff. By midnight, the news was everywhere. Dr. Elena Hale was presumed dead.

The ninety-ninth thing my adopted sister Isabella took from me was a grave in the sun. I had already paid the deposit, but the cemetery didn’t dare sell the plot to me. Because the Moretti family’s principessa wanted that plot for her dead dog. But I loved that spot. So I called my mother, the Donna of the Moretti family. Her voice cooled the moment I mentioned the grave： “Adriana, are you still pretending you have gastric cancer?” “Isabella just lost her dog. She’s suffered enough. Stop trying to take something else from her.” My father rejected my call. My brother, Luca, answered while helping Isabella choose the dog’s headstone. “Stop buying graves to frighten us. Why are you always so petty? Can't you stand to see your sister have anything good?” I looked at the oncologist’s report in my hand. Seven days. Maybe less. So even when I was truly dying, no one believed me. I chose the only plot left at the edge of the cemetery, where sunlight never reached, and signed the contract. Then I blocked my family one by one. They were right. I needed to stop begging them to care and remove myself from their lives for good. Seven days later, I died alone. That was when the Morettis finally believed me. And lost their minds with regret.