Melodramatic Mafia 短篇故事與 Face Slapping 小說

In the world of crime family, Don Damian and I were known for two things: him for running wild, me for standing by him. Everyone knew I was crazy about Damian. It started when we were kids. I was born with a congenital heart defect. My parents couldn't afford the surgery and chose to walk away. Back then, Damian was just a street-level errand boy whose father had gambling debts. He had no standing, no money, nothing. But to raise cash for my surgery, he volunteered for the most dangerous work the Coronelli family had, the kind where each job was a gamble with his life and every payday came in blood. He clawed his way up. The Don eventually took him in as an adopted son, and I became his wife, just like I'd always hoped. But ten years into our marriage, Damian stopped coming home. I'd sit alone at a table of cold food, calling him over and over. Sometimes a woman's voice would answer in the background. He had a private lounge at the family's club, and there was never a shortage of company. My best friend Vincent couldn't understand it. "Is it worth it? He doesn't love you anymore." I just smiled. "He gave me my life. I know he still loves me." Then Vincent forwarded me an encrypted video. A girl in a hospital gown sat on a hospital bed. At the edge of the frame, a hand with sharp-knuckled fingers reached into the shot, a hand wearing the family crest watch. Their fingers were intertwined. The caption read: [My hero promised to marry me once I'm better!! yay!!] I stared at the screen for a long time. That watch. I knew it cold. It was the one I'd fastened it onto his wrist myself more times than I could count, and there was no way I was wrong.

My ex, Luca Romano, had a rival family on his tail, so he begged me to hide him at my family's private estate for five days. For old times' sake, I agreed and gave him a temporary passcode that would work for five days. Five days later, I finished my work out of town and returned to the estate. When I entered the passcode, the door wouldn't open. Someone had changed it. I rang the doorbell. A woman I had never seen before came out wearing my nightgown. She yawned as if she owned the place. The moment she saw me, she looked at me with disgust. "So you're the ex-girlfriend who won't leave Luca alone? "You two already broke up, and now you're showing up at his place in the middle of the night? Don't you have any shame?"

When Damian was eighteen, he could barely afford a decent dinner. Still, he spent half his first commission on the cheapest silver ring in the store for me. He slid it onto my finger, his expression stern. "Wear this for now. When I have a real name, I'll get you a better one." I laughed at how cheap it was, then hid my hand behind my back and refused to give it back. Later, he did get a name. He was the Moretti family's long-lost heir, the man destined to lead its vast empire. But I never got that better ring. Five years ago, on the night a gang war broke out, I dragged a badly wounded Damian out of the fire. I never made it out myself. When he woke, huge pieces of his memory of me were gone. Cecilia Russo sat beside his hospital bed and told him I had despised him for being poor, betrayed him, and even sold the location of our old safe house to the enemy. She also told him she was the one who had saved him. Five years later, my ghost appeared in the final family trial he had to face. By then, another wedding ring sat on his hand. Cecilia was his wife. When his memories returned, he lost his mind.

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."

I have a secret. When I was a child, I became very sick. When I finally woke up, I realized I could see the true colors hidden in people's hearts. Candy pink meant tenderness. Magenta meant desire. Pale gold meant longing for something you could never have. Slate blue meant lies. Dark brown meant hurt and resentment. At our engagement party, when my fiancé, Luca Vitali, kissed me, I saw the room fill with soft candy pink. But a second later, a wave of vivid magenta rushed in and swallowed the pink completely. I looked up in shock. His arms were around me, but his eyes were fixed on someone at the far end of the banquet hall. It was his childhood sweetheart, Charlotte. I thought it was just my imagination, until he pulled Charlotte into a dressing room. He kissed the side of Charlotte's neck. "After the wedding, I'll send Nicole overseas. You know I'm only marrying her because I promised my father. Please, Charlotte. You're the only one I want to be with." After five years of loving him, I finally realized I had been nothing more than a stepping stone to him. I turned around, canceled the wedding, and vanished into the rainy night. From that moment on, I would be someone they could never hope to reach.

I'm the so-called 'Lady of Glory'—yeah, that girl from the Archbishop's prophecy. They said I'd bring endless glory to whatever Family I married into. But at our engagement party, my fiancé—Marco Falcone—swaggered onstage holding hands with his pregnant stripper girlfriend. Then he grabbed my wrist, dragged me forward, and made me kiss her hand. "Lola's the only woman I'll ever call my wife," he said with a smug little grin. "If you still want this marriage, your De Luca money better support her and the baby." I slapped him. Ripped the contract in half. Let it snow confetti. "Please. I can marry someone a hundred times better." Right when I was about to torch the entire Falcone Family, someone stepped out of the shadows. Marco's older brother, Dante Falcone. The one who'd been injured, underestimated, and pushed aside. He locked eyes with me, totally unfazed. "Signorina De Luca, do your words still stand?"

After my parents dead, I was taken in by one of his closest friends—the Draycotts. Kaelen Draycott, their only son, treated me like I was family. And I, stupidly, fell for him. When I confessed, he called me sick. Evil. Disgusting. From that day on, he made my life hell. He brought women home, loud enough for me to hear everything. Just to remind me where I stood. When it came down to it, he saved his fiancée. Left me to be shot, mocked, and forgotten. I knew what he was capable of. So this time, I made the choice. I’m leaving. And knowing how much he hates me— Let my farewell be the best wedding gift he’ll ever get.

On the flight to Arlencia, a post popped up: [What's it like to have sex in a wedding dress?] The pic showed a girl yanking some guy's purple tie while he hiked up her gown. His face was blurred, but hers? Straight-up blissed out. Everyone in the comments was swooning over how in love they looked. I didn't swoon. I froze. Because that purple tie? I gave it to Zeke Santoro, my fiancé, a few days ago. And that wedding dress? The exact custom one he had made for me. There was only one. I kept zooming in, heart racing, until I spotted a family photo in the background. My hands were shaking when I called him. "I wanna see the dress," I said. He hesitated. "It's at the studio getting final touches. Not with me right now. I'll show it to you later." I just smiled and hung up. That was all I needed. Zeke cheated—and the girl? His stepsister, Jella. Total circus. I reopened the post and shot her a DM: [Your wedding dress is stunning. I have the same one.]

I am the sole heir of the Corsini family, the biggest mafia family in North America. The first Don left behind one ironclad rule: blood comes before everything. But ever since I was a kid, I've fainted at the sight of blood. Even the smell of gun oil makes me sick. So my father chose Arthur Cole, who had once saved my life, to sit at the negotiating table for me. He'd serve as acting Don, one year at a time. Every Christmas Eve, I had to press my signet ring into the wax before he could run the family for another year. In those ten years, I never once interfered in family business. Everyone thought the annual seal was just a formality. Then Arthur fell for Vivian Miller, a senator's daughter. But her family looked down on him for coming from the mob. So I signed over our most profitable shipping company to Vivian as a gift. Only then did the senator give his blessing. Before the wedding, Vivian sweetly told me we'd be real family from then on. But not long after the wedding, she threw an agreement at me. She wanted to marry me off to a Mexican drug lord. "Marrying General Juárez is the only way you can be of any use to this family." I looked at the agreement and laughed. They'd forgotten who really ran this place. Christmas Eve was five days away. This year, I was planning to pick a new Don.

I'd been gone three months, growing our turf. Came home to find some chick in my robe, on my couch, sipping my wine. I called security. Lesson time. Then Damon—my husband, who only mattered because he married me—jumped in front of her. "It was a drunken mistake. She's just some poor girl. You're not seriously gonna flip over this, right?" I slapped him. "A trophy like you thinks he gets a say now?" Instead of shutting up, he asked for a divorce. For her. Cool. I said yes. He thought ditching me meant freedom. What he didn't get? Without me, he was nobody.

As the Donna of the Moretti Family, I paid out of my own pocket to build a high-security school for the children of our fallen members. But the widows repaid me by dragging my name through the media. Worse, they leaked the locations of three safe houses, dealing the Family a devastating blow. They claimed the school was never a benefit at all, but a “hostage camp” where I kept their children to force them to remain loyal to the Family. While Don Lorenzo Moretti was away, they even filed an impeachment motion with the Family Council, demanding that I shut down the school and hand its operating funds directly to them. Fine. I signed the closure order that very day. But the moment the notice went out, the widows swarmed the estate gates, crying and begging me to reopen the school. Only then did they understand— What waited for their children beyond the school gates was never freedom. It was a rival Family’s hit list.

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.

For six years, everyone in the Vistari family had known the rule: if shots rang out, get me out first. My boyfriend, Leon Vistari, was the head of the family. He'd given that order himself. But at a party held for his ex, Catherine Ricci, the champagne tower collapsed. Glass shattered. Every bodyguard rushed past me to shield her and get her to the emergency exit. The crowd knocked me down. My right hand landed on broken glass. Leon arrived, made sure Catherine was safe, then finally looked down and noticed me sitting in a pool of my own blood. "Catherine has been through a shooting before. Sounds like that make her freeze up." "The doctor said if the cuts had been any deeper, I might never have been able to use a scalpel again." He was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, he didn't sound the least bit sorry. "But you're fine now, aren't you?" Suddenly, I laughed. I didn't shake with fear. I always got through things on my own. Apparently, that meant I deserved to be left behind. Six years ago, he'd ordered everyone to protect me first. Six years later, he'd told them to save another woman instead. That night, I called a number I hadn't contacted in six years. "I'll agree to the arranged marriage." Leon thought I'd keep giving in. This time, I was done. In three days, I would marry his greatest rival—the man he wanted dead more than anyone in the world.

I was the Castell family's designated heir in Rosewick, Delmaris, and my older sister Sabrina had been adopted into the family. So she was overprotective of me. She reminded me constantly, "Avery, you're the family's only heir. It's not safe for you to be out in public." Even my dates with Julian Vescari, the Don of the most powerful family in Rosewick, were things she attended in my place. When the grapes ripened at the estate, Sabrina said the crowds made it unsafe. So she went with Julian to pick grapes instead of me. At family banquets, she said there were too many cameras and it made an assassination too easy. So she linked arms with Julian and gave the speeches in my place. Every time she came back, Sabrina told me gently, "As long as I'm standing in front of you, you can inherit everything safely." I always believed she did it for my sake. Until the day before my engagement to Julian. Sabrina was sitting in the dressing room in the gown I'd had made for myself. As I passed the doorway, I happened to see Julian feed her a peeled grape. Sabrina complained sweetly, "I run around handling everything for the two of you and never get a moment to myself, and one grape is supposed to settle it?" Julian answered easily, "You've worked hard. Ask me for anything you want." Sabrina looked him up and down, and then she smiled. The intimacy between them froze me where I stood and sent a sharp pain through my chest. In that moment I finally understood. This boundary-crossing game they called protection had to end.

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."

I was a brilliant artist. But I crushed my right hand saving my mafia husband, Vincent, and my ability to create died with it for three years. Vincent promised he'd make me whole again. Our private doctor swore he was doing everything he could. But my hand remained numb, useless. Then, one day, I overheard a conversation that shattered my world. "Make sure she can never create again," Vincent told the doctor. "I can't have Isabella threatening Sophia's place in the art world!" "But, Mr. Torrino, another procedure might... she could lose the hand for good." "I don't care what happens to her! Sophia saved my life. I will not let her down!" It turned out my husband was the one who had destroyed me. And the assassin, Sophia, was the woman he truly loved. He let her claim my designs, turning her into the art world’s new darling while I was trapped in a broken body. When I confronted him, pregnant with our child, he slapped me in public and told the world I was losing my mind. That night, I burned everything that bound me to him. Then I dialed an encrypted number I hadn't used in what felt like a lifetime. "Grandpa. In three days, I need to disappear."

I was eight months pregnant when I slipped in the bathroom. I lay bleeding on the floor, unable to move. My Apple Watch sent a fall alert to my husband, Gabriel, the mafia don. I waited on the cold tiles for forty minutes. He never came. A maid bringing my dinner heard me calling for help. She called the guards, who broke down the door and rushed me to the hospital. When Gabriel arrived, he held my hand. “I’m sorry, Nora. I won’t let this happen to you or our baby again. I promise.” After I came home, he replaced the tiles in every bathroom so I wouldn’t slip again. Everyone said he loved me more than anything. But we both knew where he’d been during those forty minutes. He was at his late brother’s wife Celeste’s house, taking care of her son, Aaron. Before I fell, he’d sent me a text. “Aaron fell. I need to go check on him.” When my alert came through, he tapped to confirm he’d seen it. Then he went back to cleaning his nephew’s scraped knee. He thought I’d forgive him like I always did. A month later, he was about to name Aaron his heir until our son was old enough to take over. He sent the butler to bring us down for the announcement. The butler returned with divorce papers. “Don, I’m afraid Donna has already left for Zurich.”

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.

On the night of our ninth wedding anniversary, my husband—Damian Grant, the man who ruled the mafia by day and once ruled my heart by night—did not bring me roses. He gave the bouquet that should have been mine to Serena Lane, his personal assistant. Beneath the chandelier where we once danced on our wedding night, he turned to me with that same cold charm he once used to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. “She's pregnant.” Finally, everything fell into place. “She's a picky eater. From today onward, you’ll cook three meals a day for her. And no repeats. “She’s sensitive and hates sleeping alone, so you’ll need to move your things into the guest room.” The room fell silent. I did not raise my voice, nor did I shed a single tear. I simply picked up my packed suitcase and walked to the door. The butler tried to stop me, but Damian did not even blink. “She’ll come back.” He lazily swirled the wine in his glass. “She’ll come back crying and begging within three days.” Our guests burst out laughing. They placed a million-dollar bet right in front of me. They were betting on whether I would be back before the night was over, begging Damian to let me back in like a pathetic stray dog with my tail between my legs. However, they did not know I had already received the family heirloom from my real father. I booked my flight to get far, far away from everyone I used to know. This time, I really left.

In the New York Mafia, everyone knows that Cassian, the ruthless Don of the Valeriano family, loves me. His devotion is practically a legend. A cold-blooded killer like him spends a month every year at his family's estate in Sicily, praying for my health. I always thought I was the only queen in his empire. Until the day I saw an encrypted video. My best friend Bianca was holding a little boy, smiling at the camera. "We couldn't keep our hands off each other at the villa back then. That's how Nico was made." "So every year, we come back to thank God for this gift." A second later, a man's hand reached into the frame to tuck her windblown hair behind her ear. Gentle and practiced. But the man's collar was slightly unbuttoned. It revealed the cross necklace I designed for him—the one holding the fatal bullet I took for him years ago. I sat in a room with a roaring fireplace, but my blood froze. Right then, my private doctor called. "Miss Aria, I have bad news and worse news." "Your fetus has a rare genetic defect. It requires a high-risk in-utero surgery. The success rate is under thirty percent." I looked up blankly. My face was wet with tears I didn't even know I shed. My voice trembled, but it carried a newfound coldness. "Cancel the surgery. I'm not keeping the baby."