เรื่องสั้นและนิยายในฉาก Family Emotions แนว Mafia

At the Moretti family wedding, my stepsister had convinced herself that I was a secretary who'd seduced the Don and was spending his hush money on luxury goods. She stared at my expensive outfit, her brow furrowed with anger, yet she had to keep up an air of refinement as she made her snide remarks. "A lowly secretary doing odd jobs—how could someone on that tiny salary afford luxury brands? Dressing yourself up so flamboyantly—you're just here to fish for a rich husband, aren't you?" Relying on the fact that her mother was about to marry the Don, she was dead set on climbing to the pinnacle of money and power, determined to trample everyone underfoot and then bask in their admiration. But the seat of honor at the head table—the one she wanted—was occupied by me. She didn't dare ask her stepfather for it, nor did she have the authority to order anyone else around, so she reached out to shove me off. I dodged, and she vented her fury in a shrill voice. "Get down here, or I'll make you disappear." I sat there calmly, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye, and sank into thought again. Did she not know that I was the heir to this vast Moretti Mafia family? That all these assets were left to me by my mother? That the so-called Don on the surface—my father—was merely a proxy? What was wrong with the future heir to the Moretti crime family sitting at the head table at a subordinate's wedding? As a daughter, I'd come to attend my own father's wedding, only to be slandered as a vain mistress who'd slept her way to the top? ...

Four months pregnant. I was alone when a rival family came for me.. A searing pain tore through my stomach. I couldn't reach my husband, Don Lorenzo. His phone was off. I woke up in a sterile hospital bed. Three days had passed. And the baby... was gone. That’s when I heard the nurses gossiping. “Heard Don Lorenzo cleared out a block of Fifth Avenue for his mistress three days ago. Had his phone off so they wouldn't be disturbed.” Tears rolled down my cheeks, but my heart was empty. I gave up my career, my whole life, for him. The Don who promised me forever… he shattered that promise just days before our fifth anniversary. Back home, I dug out an old phone and made a call. A number I hadn't touched in five years. "The European tour you mentioned…" I said, my voice hollow. "I'm in. I can be ready in a week."

After my adopted sister, Bella, borrowed my phone, she forgot to log out of our family's secure channel. I was about to log her out when an encrypted group chat message popped up at the top of the screen. "To celebrate Enzo, the Moretti heir, handling his first piece of business for the family, we're having dinner at the private club tonight." I tapped on it without a second thought. The member list in the channel was painfully clear, showing only four avatars: my father, my mother, my brother, and Bella. My brother, Enzo, replied a moment later, "Just the four of us. Don't call Aurora." "If she comes, she'll just find another excuse to bully Bella." I stared at the words, frozen. It dawned on me then. In this family, I had been the outsider all along.

When I returned to the Costello family as the long-lost daughter, I was dressed in my adoptive sister's hand-me-downs, and the family driver came only for her. Still, they felt guilty toward the daughter they had raised in my absence. So when the government rolled out the Fairness System, they registered the whole family before I could blink. My father exhaled with relief. "With this system enforcing absolute equality, Brittany won't ever have to suffer again." My mother took my hand, her voice leaving no room for argument. "You came home and stole everything that belonged to her. That's not fair to Brittany." My brother didn't bother hiding his contempt. "I only acknowledge one sister. You already got more than you deserve. Don't push your luck." I ate leftovers while she had private chefs. I sweated in a closet while she slept in a custom-designed suite. I almost laughed. When the system went live, they were the ones who fell apart.

The day my father's enemies kidnapped and tortured me, my family was celebrating my sister Isa's eighteenth birthday. The next day, she would be handed over to the Cammarata family, our rivals, to seal an alliance through marriage. My father is a Don with more enemies than he can count. When I was ten, the two families arranged a marriage alliance to keep the peace. If the two families ever went to war again, the one who'd been married off would be killed first to send a message. On the day they chose the bride, my sister grabbed the token first: a signet ring. From that day on, she was the one this family loved. My mother always said Isa was suffering in my place. So I had to give way to her in everything and protect her. Whatever my sister wanted, I had to hand it over. When we were little, an assassination attempt forced our car off the road. I clutched her to me during the crash and broke my own leg. When my mother arrived, she pulled Isa into her arms first, then turned on me. "Your sister's arm is all scraped up. Couldn't you have protected her better?" I pretended it didn't matter and went to the hospital alone. But I cried anyway while they set my leg. This time, when they kidnapped me, I dropped to my knees and begged for one call for help. I didn't hesitate for a second. I called my parents. My mother had already lost her patience. "Do you have to compete for attention even on your sister's birthday? After today, you can do whatever you want. I'm hanging up." But there wasn't going to be an after today, Mom. As I took my last breath while they tortured me, one thought filled my mind. If I died in my sister's place, would that finally make them happy?

Of the eight women who married into the Ferro family, I was the most useless. The other seven either ran casinos or controlled the docks. All I knew how to do was take the private jet to Paris and pick out jewelry. They talked family business. I only cared about Bulgari's latest high-jewelry collection. To them, I was just Simon Ferro's pretty, free-spending trophy wife, the woman he'd been crazy enough to marry. I didn't care. The family trust paid out every month, and my job was to sparkle. Until a mysterious consortium came after the Ferro family. The consortium put up three South African gold mines as collateral and drained the last of the family's legitimate cash. Everyone was scrambling, and the old Don went gray overnight. The powerful women in the family called in every connection they had, but they couldn't find a single clue about who was behind it. The man sat arrogantly in the seat of honor and demanded that my father-in-law hand over the family signet ring. I came downstairs with a drink in my hand and frowned. "Where'd this nouveau riche nobody come from? He's getting my couch dirty." Elena Ferro yanked me behind her. "Shut up and go back upstairs!" Simon instinctively pulled me into his arms to shield me. When it counted, the whole family closed ranks around me without a word. I reluctantly turned to go, only to catch sight of the antique panther brooch on the stranger's lapel. No way! A big shot with three gold mines, and his Cartier panther has cheap rhinestones for eyes?

While the Famiglia is choosing the territories where they will base their operations, everyone gathers around my younger twin sister, Clara Lombardi, to discuss the matter. My older brother, Giulio Lombardi, points at the map. "We're going to Millano, of course. I've already set up several luxury boutiques and real estate firms there. Besides, it's safer in Millano. It's the perfect choice for us!" Nicolo Piazza, the Consigliere, shakes his head in disagreement. "No, Clara. Don't listen to him. We should break into the medical industry together. I can help you turn the Famiglia's entire fortune into legitimate income within the next year." Nicolo and Giulio continue arguing heatedly while Mamma and Papa watch the scene with amused smiles. "Clara, we're not going to have to worry about handing the Famiglia affairs to you with the two of them by your side." A very long time later, they finally remember that I'm also there. Nicolo walks over to me and speaks in a gentle voice. "Julia, you're not familiar with the Famiglia business. So, once Clara makes her decision, you can just tag along with us." Giulio chimes in without even looking up at me. "Right. Besides, it's not like you have good grades anyway. You can wait a couple of years before concerning yourself with the Famiglia affairs." I stand rooted to the spot, a chill spreading deep within me. Even when we were very young, Giulio and Nicolo would always favor Clara over me. Every time she cried, Giulio would immediately give her everything that belonged to me, whether they were my clothes, my shoes, or my toys. Clara also always got everything I ever wanted. Meanwhile, all I got was just a vague promise of, "I'll get you one next time." As it turns out, the situation is still the same even after we've grown up. Nothing has changed. I take out my phone and book a flight to Palerama instead. Since nobody at home cares about me, there's no need for me to see them ever again.

In my last life, right after I found out I was pregnant, a fire broke out in the mansion where I lived. My husband, Don Austin Marchetti, took most of the Family up into the mountains that night to search for his missing childhood friend instead. My calls for help went straight to voicemail. All I could do was watch the fire spread and swallow the entire house. He wept regretfully over what was left of me. After I died, he still went on to marry her. On their wedding day, guilt finally caught up with him, and he took his own life. His last words were that if he ever got the chance to live again, he'd choose me without hesitation. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the fire. And I found him leading everyone up into the mountains to search for her before the flames had even started. This time, I wasn't waiting around for him to save me. I was saving myself.

At the coming-of-age tarot reading, my little sister drew the Empress. I drew the Hanged Man, the Sacrifice card, just like always. Mom and Dad raised their glasses of red wine, beaming. "Looks like even God knows your sister was born to be a Donna." Under the Lombardi family code, the Empress could claim one prize from the Sacrifice. My sister eyed the obsidian cross around my neck and suddenly smiled. "Helena, I want your engagement to the Ravelli family." The banquet hall went quiet. The old Don had arranged that engagement for me before he died. All these years, it was the only thing of mine my sister hadn't taken. Without thinking, I pressed a hand to my chest. But my mother immediately jammed the muzzle of her gun against my shoulder. "That brutal Don has never even met you. What's the harm in switching?" My father yanked the cross off my neck and pushed it across to my sister. "The Sacrifice exists to give everything for the Empress. "That's how you've lived since you were a kid. Don't break the family code now." My sister put on the cross and winked at me. "You're not having second thoughts, are you?" I thought back to my childhood. She'd wanted my sidearm. She'd wanted my armored car. She'd even wanted my safe house. Every time, my parents said she deserved the best, and all I had to do was give it to her. I slowly looked down at the unread message on my phone. "In three days, a helicopter will be waiting for you on the roof." The sender: Don Ravelli. This time, I wasn't giving anything up. I was going to be the Donna who made the rules.

When I went to get a replacement copy of our marriage certificate, the clerk at the registrar's office told me, "This certificate is a forgery. There's no record of your marriage in the system." "But Michele and I got married four years ago, at St. Mary's Church. We had witnesses..." I steadied my breathing. "Please check again." The clerk sighed and clicked her mouse a few times. "We found a registration for Michele Corleone, but the spouse listed isn't you." My voice shook. "Who's his legal wife?" The clerk answered without looking up. "Rita Greco." Before I heard that name, I'd still been telling myself the system might have made a mistake. But of course it was Rita, Michele's childhood sweetheart. Suddenly everything made sense. In the four years I'd spent as Michele's wife, he'd never once held my hand in public. No famiglia galas, no formal introductions. Some of the Corleones didn't even know my name. I'd asked him why, and he'd told me, "It's to protect you. In the underworld, the less visible you are, the safer you are." I'd believed him. Now I finally understood. The marriage I'd poured everything into, the one I'd believed in for four years, had been fake from the very beginning. I'd never once been let into his real life. And as the woman who'd made that mistake, only one path was left to me. With trembling fingers, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't touched in four years. [Papa, I want to come home.]

Through seven years of secret marriage, I was nothing more than an obedient, tirelessly devoted assistant to Don Nathan Harrison. He walked the red carpet at high-profile galas with Susan Ferell, his business partner’s daughter. He booked an entire castle just to host an exclusive rose-themed banquet for her and spent millions at an auction to buy her a crown-jewel diamond necklace once owned by royalty. Their names dominated the headlines daily, dubbed by the Siciamira media as the ultimate power couple of high society. For the first time, I didn't make a scene or shed a single tear. Even when I found that royal diamond necklace intended for Susan tucked away in Nathan’s suit pocket, I simply pulled it out and quietly set it on the vanity. Nathan convinced himself that I had finally grown sensible and understood the overwhelming sacrifices he was making for our future. What he didn't know was that the world's top global syndicate had just tracked me down, crowning me as the sole heir to a century-old empire. And the signed divorce papers were already stamped, processed, and on their way from the courthouse straight to his front door.

My mom, Serena Brunetti, is the most hopelessly lovesick side character in a romance novel. She's the daughter of the Don of the Brunetti family, for crying out loud. But she rejected the match her family arranged and insisted on marrying my dad, John Carter, instead. I call him Trash Dad. He's a freeloader who lives off her money and keeps his first love on the side. The result? Seven miscarriages, all deliberately caused. Yet she's so sweet and clueless that she thinks they happened because her body is too weak. She even feels as if she let Trash Dad down. And me? I'm the poor little soul who tried to be born seven times in a row and never made it out of heaven. On my eighth try, even my angel couldn't stand to watch anymore and personally escorted me into the world. Before leaving, the angel even gave me a max-level Baby Talk buff. I was all set to live my best life, adored and spoiled rotten. Instead, Trash Dad walked up to Mom's hospital bed with a smile, carrying some random baby boy. "You did so well, honey. Look, this is our precious son, the first in line to inherit from your dad." Meanwhile, I'd been stuffed into a filthy biohazard bin, and I was about to be tossed into an incinerator and burned to ash! I panicked and started cursing in my head. Lovesick Mom, wake up! That's Trash Dad's son with his side piece. I'm your real daughter. Come save me! Mom, who had been leaning against Trash Dad and gazing at him like a lovesick puppy, suddenly shivered.

Rumor had spread through the Vittori family that the daughter they had lost years ago had finally been found. The moment I heard, I left the family branch and rushed back to the main estate. My car had barely stopped when a young woman hurried over and grabbed my hand. “So you’re the Vittori family’s adopted daughter,” she said with a smile that looked painfully sincere. “Your dress is so beautiful. It must cost tens of thousands of dollars. You can tell you’ve never really had to worry about anything before. Unlike me. I grew up in places where even finding my next meal was a problem.” For a second, I didn’t understand what she meant. Then her eyes lowered to the only necklace around her neck. “This is the only thing I have from Mother,” she whispered. “Please don’t hate me for wearing it.” The next second, she suddenly grabbed my hand, dragged it up toward her throat, and yanked hard. The necklace snapped. Pearls scattered across the marble floor. “Why would you do that?” she cried, staring at me in shock. “If you hate seeing Mother’s gift on me, I’ll take it off right now. I won’t stay and make things difficult for you. Just please don’t tell Father and Mother. I don’t want them caught in the middle, and I don’t want this family fighting because of me.” She curled into herself on the marble floor, shaking as she cried, while the guests around us immediately turned to stare. I stood there completely stunned. I had imagined a thousand ways I might meet my daughter again. I never imagined she would look me in the eye, mistake me for someone else, and frame me before I had even spoken. Because I was not Valentina. I was her mother.

The day I died, my cousin Theo Valenti was being named heir to the Valenti family. And I was wearing his suit, riding in his car, and luring the killers away from him. When I was seven, Dad chopped off my long hair and trained me to walk and talk just like my cousin. I even had to shoot like him. Theo was the only heir to the main branch. My parents had handed me over to take his place whenever danger came knocking. When someone tried to kidnap him, I got in the car instead. When someone was waiting to ambush him outside a party, I walked out the front door in his place. Over 13 years, I took two bullets for him and was kidnapped three times. Every time Mom saw me hurt, all she ever said was, "Nothing can happen to your cousin." Dad would give me a rare pat on the shoulder. "Daisy, being chosen as Theo's stand-in is an honor." When I was little, I actually believed him. Dad hardly ever praised me. The only time he ever straightened my tie was when he sent me into danger. Then he'd warn me not to embarrass the family. I thought that if I proved myself worthy of that "honor," one day they'd look at me the way they looked at Theo. The night Theo turned 21, our rivals found out which route he'd be taking. So I put on his suit and went out in his place one last time. My cousin made it to his succession ceremony safe and sound. I got shot. Blood soaked through the suit fast. I called Dad. "Dad, I'm at North Hill. I've been sh—" "Daisy, wait another half hour." Dad cut me off. Deafening applause filled the background. "Your cousin's ceremony isn't over yet. We'll come get you when it's done." Then he hung up. They all thought I'd wait for them, the way I had for 13 years. Only this time, I didn't last long enough.

My parents think I'm not ladylike enough, so they buy themselves a docile and sweet AI daughter called Serafina Moretti. On the day Serafina is brought home, I get bullied by the entire family. Papa hates the fact that I'm really bad at studying, unlike Serafina, who's quick to pick up on the knowledge after being taught for the first time. Mamma wrinkles her nose at my bright and active personality. Apparently, I'm not quiet enough, which annoys her and gives her a pounding headache all the time. My older brother, Dario Moretti, even berates me all the time. "You're a disgrace to the Moretti family! What else are you capable of doing other than eating and sleeping?" Even Serafina has the gall to make fun of me, so I shove her to the floor out of anger. Mamma's expression darkens immediately. Then, she delivers a heavy slap across my cheek. "Serafina is your sister! If you're as docile as she is, you won't annoy me to the point I keep having headaches! "It's time for you to learn how to be a docile and understanding daughter in a behavioral correction academy!" So, I'm forced to study there. Two years later, my family picks me up from the academy. They keep calling my name, and yet I never respond to them. Professor Luca Caruso corrects them smilingly, "Mrs. Moretti, you must say the words, 'Activate.' Only then will NS-5 boot up on her own."

At an underground auction on the south side, my husband Matteo Moretti came across a woman fleeing debt collectors. In a panic, she threw herself into his arms. That same night, he raised his paddle three times for her. In the end, the six-carat diamond ring cost him enough to buy half a city block. When Sofia Bellini told me, I was sitting in my studio, carving a statue of the Virgin Mary. The more she talked, the angrier she got. "Five years ago, if you hadn't dragged him out of that pile of bodies behind the church, the Baldi family would've finished him off with a second bullet. Later, when the Moretti family was rooting out the rat and taking back the South Docks, you were the one who had his back. And now look at him. He made a scene at an auction over some woman who came out of nowhere, and the whole city is talking about it." She held her phone out to me. One look, and my knife slipped. In the photo, Matteo was shirtless, and the woman was leaning against his chest. Right above the old bullet scar over his heart was a freshly inked name: Lia. Five years ago, he'd been cornered in an old church. A bullet came through the window and hit him just to the left of his heart. That night, Sofia and I forced our way in, and I dragged him, blood-soaked, from the pile of bodies.When he woke, he held my hand and said, "Elena, you dragged me back from hell. I will never use the life you saved to betray you." Later, he tattooed a black rose on my left shoulder himself. It was the Moretti family's private protection mark, and not just anyone got one. Matteo had kissed the old bullet wound on my shoulder and said that from then on, wherever I went, anyone who saw the rose would know I was the one he'd protect with his life. But now he'd tattooed another woman's name over his heart. "Grandfather, I want to come home." Less than a minute later, he replied. "Eight tonight. The helicopter will land on the north lawn of the Moretti estate."

I've always been lucky. I grew up in foster care, but every family I was placed with was either rich or powerful. Later, two of the wealthiest families around even took me in, both convinced I was their biological daughter. The first was the Kennedy family, an old aristocratic house. Their fake daughter, Sophia Kennedy, was an expert at framing people. Whenever she accused me of something, I'd happily take the blame, but my new parents never believed I'd done it. In the end, I got all the designer goods and even a share of the family profits. The second was the Percival family, a financial dynasty. Their fake daughter, Scarlett Percival, was a master at playing the victim. She played the victim, and I gave it right back. Somehow, every new piece of evidence ended up proving me right. My new parents felt so guilty that they gave me a trust fund and property after property. Two families claimed me as their long-lost daughter, and both times, I walked away unscathed. The two fake heiresses, however, ended up disgraced and ruined. The third time, a DNA test finally revealed the truth: I was the long-lost daughter of Don Bertoni. On my first night at the estate, Jennifer Bertoni—the girl who'd been living in my place for eighteen years—clutched her chest and collapsed at my feet, her face deathly pale. "Sis, I was born with an irregular heartbeat. I could drop dead at any moment." "I've been living your life, and that's on me. If you blame me for it, I'll go and die right now." My birth mother wrapped her arms protectively around Jennifer and glared at me. My brother, Adrian Bertoni, slammed his fist down on the coffee table, his eyes cold and vicious. "Jennifer's been sick her whole life. Can't you cut her some slack?" Even Bryce Sedgwick, the arms dealer I was engaged to, turned cold. "Upset Jennifer again, and the Bertonis can forget about this month's weapons deal. Consider it canceled." I crouched beside her and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Don't be sill

My stepsister Victoria had fastened my sapphire cufflink to her bracelet and was about to become the Donna of the Corleone family when the most feared Don in Europe called a halt to the wedding. His voice was cold and low. "You're not the one I'm marrying. How could I ever fail to recognize the person who saved my life? The moment I first laid eyes on her, everything about her was burned into my memory." "Victoria, who are you really?" An uproar swept through the hall of European elites. Victoria tightened her grip on the sapphire cufflink, fighting to keep her trembling voice steady. "Caine, are you sure you haven't made a mistake?" Of course she hoped he was wrong. Ten years ago, in that suffocating cellar, the person who pulled him out of the grip of his claustrophobia and saved his life was me. The person who smashed the lock open until my hands were covered in blood was me. The person whose hand he'd pressed that sapphire cufflink into, the one he'd made the focus of his lifelong devotion, was me too. But just days ago, my stepmother Camilla had pinned me to the ground, ripped the cufflink away from me, and shoved it into Victoria's palm. She told me. "Elena, your sister is prettier and has a better personality. If she marries the Don, our Santini family can finally rise to power." In my last life, I believed their lies. I was locked in a cramped servant's room, watching Victoria take credit for what I had done and become the most glamorous Donna in all of Europe. Later, terrified the truth would come out, Victoria and my own father tied me up in the basement. Then she drove a knife straight through my heart. As I drew my last breath, the sapphire cufflink that should have been mine was still glittering from the bracelet on her wrist. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the exact moment they stole my keepsake. This time, I contacted that terrifying Mafia Don before anyone else could. I swore to take back everything that belonged to me.

My son asked me for something I couldn’t give. “Just three chances, Mom,” he whispered. “If he really doesn’t love us after that… we’ll leave forever.” He was talking about his father — Giovanni Romano. The heir to a Mafia empire. My husband in name only. He never called our son his own. He never once said he loved me. Chance one, Giovanni forgot. Chance two, he lied. Chance three… he broke something no apology could fix. So I packed our bags, held my son’s hand, and walked away. No tears. No goodbyes. Just quiet. The night our plane took off, my phone buzzed. “Wait,” his message read. “I’m coming home.” But home isn’t where he is anymore. It’s wherever my son finally sleeps without crying. Because some promises don’t break — they shatter. And some mothers never wait again.

When I found out I was suffering from heart failure, I was given ten days left to live. For the first time in my life, I smiled because I could finally repay Don Santos for taking me in. To repay Frank Santos' debt, I became his daughter's personal maid in private for 12 years, although I was his adopted daughter in name. I willingly endured all of Principessa Jackie Santos' tantrums. Jenny made me stay in the dark, damp basement and never allowed me to share the table when the family had their meals. On several trips that I had accompanied her on, Jenny left me behind on the outskirts on purpose and made me walk back on my own. I snapped out of the memories and dragged my exhausted body to see Don Santos for one last wish. I hoped to be buried with my real parents after my death, but when I arrived at the door, I heard the Donna, Marie Delgado, speaking to him. "Jenny has suffered enough for all these years. Isn't it time for us to tell her the truth?" What truth was she talking about? I was about to knock on the door, but I stopped when I heard their conversation. "Jackie is our adopted daughter, after all, and she has a sensitive soul. If we aren't hard on Jenny now, what should we do if she bullies Jackie by flaunting her status as our real daughter? "Now that she has labored away for Jackie for so many years, we'll let her return to her rightful place as our Principessa two weeks later, on her birthday." I was stunned. I was their real daughter, but they had watched me be abused for 12 years just to protect the feelings of their adopted daughter! "I can't wait for two weeks…" I would not live long enough to see that day.