Fake Death Mafia Short Stories & Novels

I was on my way to pick up my son from school when I got a call from his teacher. “Mrs. Corleone, you don’t need to come. Your husband — the one who’s been missing for five years — just picked up your son from school.” My chest tightened with unease, and I quickly corrected her. “Teacher, you must be mistaken. My boy's dad in Sicily on business. Where is this ‘other husband’ coming from?” After a short pause on the phone, the teacher spoke again. “Mr. Corleone said you don’t have to lie. He said he won’t kick you out of the Corleone family, since you gave him a son after you ran away from the wedding.” “You only have to give your position as his wife to the woman who saved his life.” I rolled my eyes. Deliberately raising my voice, I sent a voice message to his uncle. “Darling, come home immediately! Your nephew is back and trying to take our son!” Then I heard a crash on the other end.

Matteo Cassimo and I are childhood sweethearts. But he gets assassinated on the day before our wedding. I cry my heart out in front of his grave to the point I faint from exhaustion. When I wake up again, I see a few live comments crossing my vision. "Poor Annie… She's still kept in the dark about the truth." "Seriously, Annie believes everything Matteo tells her. Serves her right for getting duped by Matteo's fake death." "Can someone please tell Annie that Matteo fakes his death to get rid of her, because his mistress finds out he's about to get married and decides to secretly leave him? I bet those two are being lovey-dovey with each other right now!" "Forget about it. Annie has nothing but blind trust in Matteo, after all. Maybe when he finally comes back from the 'dead,' she'll marry him happily again." One month later, the news headlines all over the papers are filled with the explosive news of the impending marriage between me and the heir of the Valente family, William Valente. That's when Matteo's subordinate confronts me. "Our Don has just passed away recently, and yet you're already planning to marry someone else?" I merely chuckle icily in return. "So what if I am? I can't just be a widow at such a young age now, can I?"

After getting remarried, I put my husband, Steven Graham, on the family's service roster at a rate of ten thousand dollars an hour. His childhood sweetheart, Julie Ziegler, heard about it and signed a long-term contract without a second thought. Four months later, the balance in my offshore account had climbed to nearly a million dollars. On our wedding anniversary, Steven was supposed to spend the day with me. Then Julie called. Her dog had suddenly gotten sick, and she asked him to go to her. I didn't get angry. I simply sent her an encrypted message. [Don't forget to transfer the payment on time. Late fees will be charged separately.] Later, when I had an attack of appendicitis, Steven sped through the city to take me to an underground clinic. Halfway there, the encrypted communicator rang again. Julie's voice came through the speaker. "Steven, it's raining. I forgot my umbrella. Can you come pick me up?" The car fell silent. I said nothing. I pulled a black umbrella from the hidden compartment, shoved it into his arms, unlocked the passenger door, and gestured for him to pull over. Steven looked at my pale face. The veins on the back of his hand stood out slightly. For once, he seemed reluctant. I opened the door and was immediately drenched by the rain. I turned around and said one last thing. "Just make sure she transfers the money on time." Even on our daughter Nora Graham's birthday, Julie's call hit right on schedule. "Steven, can you come with me to a kennel event tomorrow? All the family representatives are bringing dates. If I show up alone, I'll seem inadequate." Steven gripped the communicator and hesitated as he glanced at our daughter, who was placing candles on her birthday cake. Without even looking up, Nora picked up a piece of cake with her fork and said, "Dad, make sure that lady pays. Since it's a special occasion today, charge double."

When Michele Barone, the Underboss of the Moretti family, proposes to me, I receive a video call from another version of myself, who's five years in the future. In the video call, my older self is already shaved bald. She's also trapped in the Moretti family's basement. "Don't marry him! You have to get rid of the unborn baby in your belly and get out of here right now!" I throw the ring to the table on the spot before going through an abortion right away. When Michele finds out the truth, he breaks down and cries his heart out. At the same time, he keeps demanding answers from me. All of my family and friends keep blaming and accusing me. They even claim that I've gone nuts. Meanwhile, Michele's childhood friend, Gianna Grasso, hides outside the room with a hand clamped over her mouth as she giggles secretly to herself. "AI nowadays sure is powerful! I can't believe she actually believes that the woman in the video call is actually her future self five years from now!" My lips curl into a small smile. Honestly speaking, I can tell right away that it's just a fake AI video, based on how shabbily it's made. It's quite simple as to why I've done those things, though—I've received an actual video call from my future self for real.

My dad is locked up in a cargo container filled with explosives at the docks. The Genovese family has sent me a video. Apparently, the explosives are set to detonate in 20 minutes. I quickly call my fiance, Dante Luciano, for help. He's the Don of the Luciano family. As long as he's around, no one will dare to lay a finger on my dad. When Dante answers my call, he promises that he'll bring his men to rescue Dad right away. But when the convoy is on the way to the container, he claims that he has more urgent things to do, so he turns the car around and leaves. I drive toward the docks like a madwoman. There, as I watch the countdown on the video ticking down, I keep spamming calls on Dante's phone. When I call him for the 77th time, Dante finally answers it. His voice is as cold as ice. "Stop bothering me with such tricks, Lina." "But my dad will die for real—" "Then let him die." Just like that, Dante ends the call. The countdown strikes zero, resulting in Dad getting blasted into smithereens. The next thing I know, Dante's mistress, Bianca Magoni, has uploaded a photo to her social media feed. It features Dante, who's in the middle of cutting the steak for her gently. "I made an off-handed comment about wanting to eat steak, and now Don Luciano is personally cutting it just for me." It turns out that the so-called urgent business Dante has is cutting the steak for his beloved mistress. My heart dies on the inside. Hence, I fake my death and vanish from Dante's life. Later on, Dante kneels before me after searching everywhere for me like a madman. "Lina, please don't abandon me! I'm begging you, please!" I just smile at him. "You got the wrong person, sir. That's not my name."

On my wedding day, my fiancé's first love walked in holding a little boy and named the groom as the child's father. My mother saw it, and her heart gave out. She died right there on the floor. The wedding collapsed and I went down with it, fainting in front of everyone. When I came to, my oldest friend, Lucian Graves, was sitting beside me. He held me tightly in his arms. He took care of all my mother’s funeral arrangements for me. When the reporters swarmed, he put himself between me and the cameras. He cleared my name over the wedding, and then he got down on one knee in front of everyone and asked me to marry him, swearing he would take care of me for the rest of my life. After marriage, we became the happiest couple in our circle. Then, on our first anniversary, I opened the chat history on his phone. "Don, thank God you set up that wedding disruption. My son and I are happy now." "You did get her mother killed, though. Don't blame yourself. She's the one who insisted on marrying a man who was never hers." The replies were from Lucian. "Nothing to blame myself for. It was just an accident." "As long as you're happy, there's nothing I won't do." The ground dropped out from under me, and the phone hit the floor.

As the Don of Italy's most powerful mafia family, my father adopted two orphaned brothers to serve as bodyguards for my sister and me. The older one—tall, broad-shouldered, and watchful—fell for my sister the moment he saw her. That left me with his "autistic" younger brother. I didn't have the heart to send Edward back to the orphanage, where he'd surely be bullied, so I kept him. He never spoke, so I took him to the best psychiatrists money could buy. I spent two hours every day telling him jokes, even though he never once cracked a smile. He couldn't protect me, so I taught myself martial arts—and begged my father not to cast him out. I thought he was just deeply traumatized. That with enough patience, he'd come around. Then the cruise ship went down. He tore the last life jacket straight off my body. The first words he ever said to me: "Sorry, but Bianca's life jacket is defective." Bianca—my sister. He watched me slip beneath the waves, gripping my hand one last time: "I failed you in this life. I'll make it up to you in the next." Turns out his silence was never autism. Just an act—one he only kept up around me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day we chose our bodyguards. This time? I skipped the bodyguard farce entirely. Decided to live my own life. But now it seems I've caught the eye of someone far more dangerous...

Eight months pregnant, I went into labor at the exact same time as my husband Jason's sister-in-law after a fall. But Jason thought I was trying to fight for the family inheritance. "Janet, I told you the family has already accepted Rachel's child as the future heir of the Martinez family. I never expected you'd go this far—hurting yourself—just for the so-called birthright. I'm so disappointed in you." According to family rules, the first child born into the Martinez family is the future heir, inheriting everything. They thought that because I married in as an "ordinary" woman, I would covet that inheritance. But that crown? It wasn't worthy of my child. What I never expected was that, the moment Jason walked out, his sister Ashley would deliberately inject me with a drug to stall my labor. "Janet, Rachel's child is the one who should inherit this family. Your baby? He doesn't qualify." "Don't worry. Once Rachel's baby is safely delivered, I'll make sure you're well taken care of." With that, she turned and left me alone in that empty, godforsaken room. The pain was unbearable. I fought with everything I had to protect my baby. I screamed for help, but no one answered. In the end, I pressed the signal button my father had given me. Dad—please, save me and my baby.

On Graduation night, the love of my life, Julian, took three stab wounds meant for me. Gang members dumped his body into the freezing waters of Lake Michigan. I gave up my spot at Columbia Law School and went on pilgrimages to churches across the country. I did penance for my sins. For ten whole years. Until a decade later, when the news broke that Julian was taking over as the Don of the Falcone family. I finally realized he wasn't dead. And the glamorous Donna standing beside him was my best friend, Scarlett. Back at his funeral, Scarlett had cried to me, "If you really feel guilty about Julian, drop out of school and walk to churches across the country to pray. It's the blood debt you owe him." Seeing her again now, her eyes were red as she played the victim. "I just loved him too much. When he lost his memory ten years ago... I had to take him for myself and lie to you that he died." Julian, the man who was supposed to love me more than life itself, shielded Scarlett behind his back. He looked at me like a total stranger. It turned out my last ten years were nothing but a joke. I had a heart attack and died in agony. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at Julian's ridiculous funeral. He asked me, "Who are you?" I replied calmly, "Just an ordinary friend you saved." This time, I was done with this love triangle. I wanted nothing to do with them. I was going to chase my dream, go to Columbia Law School, and claim the man I let slip away for ten years—Don Cassian. But later, when Julian finally got his memory back, he begged me like a madman to return.

"Mrs. Blackwood, everything has been arranged for the identity-erasure operation you commissioned. This is the final agreement. Please sign here." I lowered my eyes to the document that had been placed in front of me. Client: Elena Blackwood Execution Plan: Explosion at a harbor warehouse. Vehicle destroyed by fire. Death confirmed through DNA identification. Execution Date: One week from today. One week later would be the fifth anniversary of my marriage to Damian Blackwood. It would also be the day I disappeared from the Blackwood family forever. Our story began on that date. And it would end on that date as well.

Papa announces that whoever is accepted into a Rose League university will be named the successor of the Romano family. Papa is already prepared to give me the successor's signet ring when I receive an acceptance letter from Harmond University. However, seconds before he gives the ring to me, a video of me leaking the Romano family's secrets to a rival family plays on the big screen. Overnight, I become a traitor who everyone despises, falling from my position as the favored successor. My fiance, Lorenzo Caruso, steps forward to defend me, but he's rendered speechless by the conclusive evidence. By the time the supervisory committee rushes onto the scene and declares that the surveillance footage and family secrets are fake, Papa has slipped the signet ring onto my stepsister Isabella Romano's finger. "I can't change the successor anymore," Papa says. "The other Dons have already verified the successor's name. Who will listen to my orders in the future if I go back on my decision now?" I leave the estate, clutching the acceptance letter from Harmond University. From that day on, I refuse to pick up Papa's calls. But when I hear about how he has been admitted to the family's private hospital because I've been giving him the cold shoulder, I can't help myself and return home to visit him. As I stand outside his hospital room, I hear my stepmother, Veronica Tonetti, laughing inside. "You're really something else. How did you come up with pretending to be sick to trick Sophia into coming back?" Papa chuckles and says, "Sophia has already been accepted into Harmond University. She has a bright future ahead of her even if she's not the successor. "Isabella's different. She's not going to receive an education from a prestigious school, and she doesn't have her own family. The other families will bully her if I don't name her as the successor of the Romano family." "We have to thank Lorenzo this time," Veronica says with a nod. "If he didn't give Sophia's private key to us, we wouldn't have been able to forge those records of her leaking the family secrets."

Everyone in New York knew Damian Moretti loved his wife. He removed anyone who questioned my place beside him. After five failed rounds of IVF, I finally saw two lines on a pregnancy test. That same day, I learned my husband already had a one-year-old son. Yet Damian still held the test in trembling hands and looked at me with the wonder of a man becoming a father for the first time. He touched my still-flat stomach and said, “We waited six years for this child.” I almost laughed. We had not been waiting together. I had been enduring injections, procedures, and one failed treatment after another while Damian was secretly raising another woman’s child. He had given the boy the medallion passed down through generations of Moretti men, along with a private home, guards, and a family trust. Damian had not replaced me. He had simply built another family in secret and decided I never needed to know. So I stopped waiting. I boarded a plane that would soon disappear over the Atlantic. Damian believed he could keep his wife, his son, and every lie under his control. He was wrong. This time, he would lose the only weakness he had ever admitted to having.

I'd been with Daniel Bonanno for five years. On our anniversary, I was the one who processed his marriage license application— but the bride wasn't me. It was Emma Miller. He told me it was just a merger. A fake arrangement between families. Once he became the Don, he'd marry me for real. I'd heard that line so many times I'd lost count. But I watched him grow closer to that woman. Day by day. Even when I was kidnapped, he was in bed with her. And finally, it hit me. Five years of loving him, and it was all just a joke. So I faked my death. I made sure everyone thought I jumped off that cliff. But after that, Daniel started haunting the base of that cliff. Two years, pacing back and forth, murmuring under his breath: "I was wrong. Please. Just come back."

Everyone knew Salvatore Romano, head of the Romano crime family, had never shown any interest in women. During our three years of marriage, I was the one special exception. Until my sister Lucia showed up. He said he despised picky eaters because he'd nearly starved to death once. Yet the dishes Lucia didn't like disappeared from the table the very next day. He said blondes were shallow. So for three years, I dyed my golden hair black without fail. Lucia wore her blonde hair wild and radiant, and he presented her with a pale yellow diamond necklace. He declared that at every banquet hosted by the Romano Family, no one was allowed to wear the same jewelry as her. To coax a smile from Lucia, he filled the entire garden with lilies. He forgot that I was allergic to pollen. He told her, "If only I'd met you sooner." He told me, "Because of you, Lucia always feels so uncomfortable." I let out a cold laugh, turned, and walked away without looking back.

I knew Leon Hall was in love with someone else. To protect that woman, he left me behind time and time again. For five years, I loved him. So I endured another woman at the Hall Family's dinner table. I endured her moving through our waterfront estate as if it were hers. And I endured the same excuse every time I objected: "She has no one else." That ended today, the day Leon and I were supposed to go to the county clerk's office for our marriage license. I waited at the county clerk's office all day. I called him ten times. He finally texted two words: "Wait for me." I stayed until the clerk locked the doors for the night. Leon never came. I followed his location to a VIP lounge at a private nightclub owned by the Hall Family. He had Elena Russo cradled against his chest, murmuring to her as if she might shatter in his arms. When he saw me, a flicker of panic crossed Leon's face, but he didn't let go of her. "Elena had a fight with her husband, Damian Russo. She ran out and got drunk. I can't leave her like this." I stared at him. "So you left me waiting at the county clerk's office all day?" Leon frowned, utterly unapologetic. "We can get the license another day. Damian nearly beat her to death tonight. I wasn't going to abandon her." In that moment, I didn't even have the energy to argue. Carrying a relationship alone was exhausting. I was done.

As the only daughter and sole heir of the Romano family, I was born into a world of blood and gunfire. To protect me, my father handpicked nine boys from our allied families and raised them to take a bullet for me When I came of age, he told me to choose one of them as my fiancé. The man I chose would be groomed to become the future Don and rule beside me. I chose Luca De Santis, the man I had loved for years. But on our wedding day, his childhood sweetheart, Bianca Ricci, threw herself into the sea. In the suicide note she left behind, she accused me of tormenting her for years. Luca believed every word. After he became Don, he used the power my family had placed in his hands to imprison me while I was pregnant. I told him that every accusation in Bianca's letter was a lie. He refused to listen. "She's already dead, and you still can't leave her alone?" Then he locked me in the estate basement for four days and four nights. On the fourth night, I lost our baby on the basement floor. I screamed for help until I had no strength left. No one came. I bled to death alone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my father's study on the day he asked me to choose my future husband. This time, Luca De Santis was the first name I crossed off the list.

Five years married to Marcello, and I find out he's no street punk. He's the Don. The head of New York's McCarthy family. While I was pinching every penny, he was dropping millions at auction, buying a fortune in diamonds for Camilla, his dead best friend's widow. He even took the baby I nearly died giving birth to. Gave him to Camilla. He stroked my hair, his voice soft and cruel. "Camilla and I, we grew up together. She was carrying Ethan's kid. If she knew her baby died... she couldn't take it." "We'll have other kids," he said. I said no. So he threatened my family. I gave in. But I made a promise to myself: I was leaving this man. I secretly signed the papers to be a combat medic. I ship out in seven days.

Every year on Dante Moretti's birthday, they played a game. Whoever drew the ace of spades could order anyone to do one thing. The first year, Sofia Cavarro poured red wine over my head. She was the Cavarro family's precious princess, and no one had ever dared to cross her. So that night, she smiled and told me to kneel and lick the wine off the tips of Dante's shoes. The second year, she hung a price tag reading "three million dollars" around my neck and let everyone guess whether Dante's purchase of me had been worth it. Dante sat on the sofa with his glass of wine, watching them jeer with a smile. Because everyone knew I was the woman he'd bought at an auction seven years ago. And I loved him, so I endured it, time after time. This year, Sofia drew the ace of spades again. She didn't make me kneel. She didn't give me a new punishment. She simply handed me a ring and told me to put it on her finger myself. That was how I found out. In one month, Dante was going to marry her. For the first time in seven years, I asked to leave. Dante laughed. "Elena, have you forgotten? I paid for you. "No matter who I marry, it doesn't change the fact that you belong to me." He was certain I had no family, nowhere to go. He was certain that as long as he didn't let me go, I would never be able to leave his side. But three days later, twenty black sedans surrounded the Moretti estate. The man who made the entire Sicilian Mafia tremble stormed in and knocked Dante to the floor with a single punch. He held up the price tag, his eyes red. "My precious daughter, the one I've spent twelve years searching for... "How could she have ended up here, a slave for seven years?"

It took Matteo De Luca ten years to rise from soldier to Don. I fought through all ten beside him. The year we hit rock bottom, I cast aside every shred of pride and knelt before my father, the man who had betrayed my family, just to borrow twenty rounds. Matteo looked at me, his eyes full of pain. I asked only one thing. "The day you become Don, will you let me stand beside you?" He promised me he would. After he finally took his place as Don, I reminded him of that promise. He kept cleaning his gun without looking up. "Things are tense right now. We'll talk about it later." So I never asked again. Then I stumbled across a video on a dark-web forum: Matteo being crowned Don at Manhattan's Round Table Hall. He'd said he was going to Chicago to handle trouble. Instead, he was standing under the lights with my half sister, Isabella Volkov, at his side. Isabella slid the Don's ring, the symbol of his power, onto his finger. Matteo pulled her into an ecstatic embrace. "Thank you for being here at the start of my reign. I'm so happy." Isabella rose on her toes and kissed the side of his neck. "So am I." I shut off the video, wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes, and returned to cleaning my guns as if it were any other night. When I finished, I texted Matteo, "I want twenty rounds." He did not ask why. He had a whole case delivered. I counted out twenty and texted back two words, "Too many." I had those twenty rounds returned to my father, settling a ten-year-old debt. Ten years ago, I traded my pride and dignity for twenty rounds. Ten years later, Matteo used twenty rounds to break his promise to me. There was no place for me at his coronation banquet. And he had no place left in my Brooklyn underworld.

The day Lily Bianchi returned from abroad, the Don Dario Moretti threw a street race in her honor. She was the woman he valued most. He ordered me to race, even though my old injuries hadn't healed. The wound on my arm tore open, and I lost control of the steering wheel. The car slammed head-on into a boulder. Pain ripped through me. When Dario drove past, he instinctively slowed down for a moment. Lily, riding shotgun, immediately rested a hand on Dario's shoulder. "Dario, why on earth did Lucia crash into the mountainside? Is it because you let me ride with you? She got jealous and hurt herself just to get your attention." Dario scoffed. "Nobody help her. She'll live. "Anyone who takes her to the hospital gets sent to the border for hard labor." With that, he sped off in pursuit of first place without looking back, Lily at his side and dust swirling behind them. He raised Lily's hand in triumph, floored the gas pedal, and crossed the finish line cheering. The drivers behind him glanced over at me. None of them dared disobey Dario's orders. All they could do was slow down when Dario wasn't looking and toss first-aid bandages through my car window. A few of the veteran guards quietly got out of their cars to help stop the bleeding. Their hands were gentle, their eyes full of sympathy. Dario didn't send anyone to take me to the hospital until nightfall. When I woke up, the first thing I did was reach for my phone. Six hours had passed since the accident, but there was only one message from him. "Stop playing dead. Be back by six, or you know what happens." I set the phone down, my throat tight. Dario cared about many things: money, power, Lily. Everything except me. Eventually, I stopped hoping for his love. It wasn't until I died before his eyes that he went mad with regret.