Plot Twists Mafia 단편 소설 & Homewrecker Marriage 소설

After his older brother died, my husband, Theodore Ricci, brought his brother's widow, Brynn, and her daughter, Amy, into the Ricci family home. He kept them close and saw to their every need. The tenth time Theodore left our daughter, Lucia Ricci, and me for Brynn and Amy, I started teaching Lucia not to depend on him. I told her to call him Don Ricci. We were on our way to the amusement park when Brynn called to say Amy had had a nightmare, and Theodore left us. I pulled our daughter into my arms, her eyes red from crying, and did my best to comfort her. We got caught in the crossfire between rival families. Theodore ignored our daughter's cries for help and ran to protect Amy. Dragging my injured leg, I carried Lucia on my back all the way to the hospital. "It's okay," I told her. "Even if Don Ricci isn't here, Mommy will always protect you." When Theodore realized our daughter was pulling away from him, he tried to make it up to her. He went all out planning her birthday party and promised that at the celebration, he'd announce she would one day be the Ricci family's heir. But just as the party was about to start, Brynn called again. "Theodore, some kid pushed Amy down, and she's crying for you!" Theodore looked at me, torn. Before I could speak, our daughter waved at him. "It's okay, Don Ricci. Go do what you need to do. I have Mommy with me." That was when I understood. Our daughter no longer needed him either. He was a father in name only.

My fiance did not come home the night his childhood sweetheart returned to the country. His voice was as gentle as ever when he called. "Honey, she saved my life. Now she's terminally ill, it's only natural for me to take care of her." I told myself he should indeed repay her for saving his life. He continued, "Once I've repaid her, I'll cut ties with her." He looked so determined and loving that I believed him, time after time. But when a chandelier fell at his birthday banquet, the person he protected was that woman. He did not notice my shoulder was already soaked with blood. The day before our wedding ceremony, he locked me in the basement. "If you're still going to act like this, you need some time to think about what you've done. You can come out before the wedding!" Through the doorway, I saw their fingers locked. In that moment, every feeling I had for him disappeared. I did not cry or make a scene. I called my mother instead. "Mom, I think it's time I listened to you and came home."

I was once Fiona's consigliere. I put the Falcone Family in her hands，helping her become the untouchable Don. And when a rival family put out a hit, I took the car bomb meant for her. It cost me my eyes. She knelt by my hospital bed and swore a blood oath. She would be my eyes. I would be her only husband. Later, after an operation by a top surgeon, my eyes recovered. I couldn't wait to rush home to surprise her. But when I pushed open the door, I saw her tangled together with Leo, her bodyguard, on the desk I had custom-made for her. Fiona was pressed against Leo in revealing clothing, her face flushed. Crumpled white tissues littered the floor. Between ragged breaths, she called Leo’s name repeatedly. "Fiona, why are you still keeping that useless blind fuck around? Let me take care of him for you." "Leo, shut up. I need more time. Now, get inside me. That's all that matters." The Chicago winter rain was bone-chilling that night. I completely gave up. After walking out of the house in just my shirt, I pulled out my phone and booked a one-way ticket to Sicily. I will cut ties completely with this family and with her.

My best friend Bianca Russo was born to work a room, and my engagement to Matteo Rinaldi was almost entirely her doing. Before we made things official, Matteo personally picked me up for opening night at the opera. He opened the car door for me. "I hear you've been looking forward to tonight." "Bianca bought the tickets," I told him honestly. "I'm just keeping her company." Bianca pinched me from behind and nudged me into the passenger seat with a laugh. "What she means is, she's hoping you'll drive her home after the show." Even after Matteo and I got engaged, he would say openly at family dinners that I wasn't as sharp as Bianca. "Looks like once we're married, I'll have to keep a room for Bianca at the estate." Family members and their business partners chuckled, but my heart sank with every laugh. Bianca was also the one who'd suggested the venue for our first charity ball as an engaged couple. By Rinaldi family tradition, the opening dance belonged to the Don and his fiancée. I'd practiced day and night for two weeks, until the backs of my heels were rubbed raw and crusted with blood. But when the band struck up the opening number, Matteo held out his hand to Bianca. "We have important guests tonight. The opening dance has to go off without a hitch." He looked at me as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Bianca knows these people better than you do, and she knows how to handle an event like this. Watch from the sidelines for now. You can have the second dance." Bianca didn't take Matteo's hand right away. She sounded torn. "Why don't you let Elena do it? She's your fiancée." That was what she said, but her eyes never left Matteo's outstretched hand. "Do I really have to ask you twice, Ms. Russo?" Matteo raised an eyebrow. The chandelier light cast a shadow beneath his sharply defined brow. The moment they stepped onto the dance floor side by side, the conversation around the room died away. The spotlight fell on the two of them, and their slightly

I’m the Blackthorn family’s top surgeon and their “cleaner.” I’ve handled countless messes for Evan Blackthorn. I was also his secret lover for five years. He was inside me more times than I can count, holding me tight as I came apart, kissing me with an obsession for my body he never bothered to hide. It all ended after sex one night, when he said with a casual laugh, “I should get a wife, Rachel.” “And maybe you should find a good man and get married, too.” I wasn’t angry. I just quietly said, “Okay.” In my last life, I insisted on staying by his side. It got me both my hands broken, my career as a surgeon shattered. In the end, during a raid by a rival family, he left me behind as bait, holding his brother’s widow, Sofia, tenderly in his arms. So this time, I learned my lesson. I stayed away from him. Found a new man, just like he wanted. But this time, the always cool and calculated Mafia Don lost his mind.

I am the lawfully wedded wife of Don Jones—the Donna of the Jones Family—and the founding CEO of his medical empire. I stood by Vincent's side as we built it up from a two-room surgical clinic into the crown jewel of European private healthcare. Then, in my eighth month of pregnancy, dying on the operating table, Vincent pulled every surgeon out of my maternity ward for the sake of his mistress. He killed our child with his own hands. He stripped me of the right to ever be a mother. He thought I was a homeless orphan with nowhere to go. He had no idea I was the sole blood heir of the Belmonte Family. After the divorce, I came home to command a global medical empire. He knelt and begged. I watched, cold-eyed, as he fell into hell.

Two years ago, I was the Donna of the Costa family. When I was on my way to attend the family meeting, I was killed by my husband's childhood sweetheart, Isabella Rossi. She shattered my limbs and smashed my belly before throwing me into an abandoned mine pit. It was such a shame that I was pregnant with the heir Matteo Costa had been waiting for the past five years when I died. Not only did Isabella frame me for working with the enemy forces, but she also broke her own legs and claimed that she got hurt from stopping me. Matteo publicly announced that he decided to sever all ties with me. He also placed a bounty on my head. Just like that, I fell from my position as the Costa family's Donna to a traitor who was wanted by all. Two years later, the mine pit collapsed on itself. That was when the workers dug out my rotten corpse.

Five years ago, I finally had my father’s killer at gunpoint—only for my husband, Don Salvatore Rizzo, to pull the killer’s daughter into his arms. "Julia, don't kill her. She had nothing to do with our fathers' feud." My grip tightened on the gun. "Do you know my parents were tied to stones and dumped into the sea because of one lie she told?" Salvatore sighed and pressed down on my wrist. "Darling, calm down. Caterina is just an innocent girl. She was forced into it." To keep me from killing Caterina, he insisted on bringing her into the Rizzo Family. From then on, there was nothing left between us but hatred. Whenever I held a knife to Caterina's throat, Salvatore aimed a gun at my back. When I tore up the gown Caterina's mother had left her, Salvatore made me stand outside all night in the freezing cold. Until today, when Caterina appeared behind Salvatore with a pregnancy report from the Family doctor in her hand. Salvatore shielded her with his body. "She's pregnant. I can't stand by and let you hurt her." Caterina said timidly, "Julia, please. For the sake of the Rizzo heir I'm carrying, put down the gun." I was the biggest joke in the world. I took half a step back and drew the gun at my waist. "Let's play a game. There's only one bullet in this gun." "If I die, no one will stand in the way of your happy little family." "If I survive, let me go."

My fiancé, Luciano Marino, was the Don of the Marino family, and he was an extremely careful man. For the five years we'd known each other, he'd kept me on his estate outside the city. "Eleanor, you're my weak spot. I'll never let any of my enemies lay a finger on you." "The fewer people who know about you, the safer you are." So I'd never once appeared in public with him, let alone met his family. Three days before our wedding, I was outside the study when I overheard him talking to the butler. "Don, are you sure you want to schedule your wedding to Ms. Vanderhall for the same day, three days from now?" "That's right." "Then... what about Ms. Ashford?" He took a deep drag on his cigar. "Eleanor has always been understanding. She won't mind if I'm a little late." My hand froze before I could push the door open, and my mind went blank. Hands shaking, I opened Instagram on my phone and searched for Eileen Vanderhall's account. Her feed was filled with photos of the two of them. She came and went from Luciano's armory as she pleased, attended his family dinners, and even sat in on meetings with his crew. "He says that when you love someone, you share every part of your life with them." So it wasn't that he refused to let the woman he loved into his life. It was just that the woman wasn't me. Back in my room, I dialed a number. "Dad, I lost the bet. I'm ready to come home and marry the man you picked." ...

During our eight years together, Lorenzo, the Falcone family Don’s heir, cheated on me with eight women. A dancer, a college student, a sex worker... Every one of them was nothing like me. Eight times, I fought, I raged, and I even cut my wrists. And every time, Lorenzo knelt before me and swore it would never happen again. "I swear to God, Beatrice, I was just tempted by someone new. You're the only woman I love." I believed him. Today was our ninth anniversary. Then I found the ninth: my best friend, Giuliana. They were holding each other like real lovers. Hands shaking, I called home, expecting the comfort my family had given me the other eight times. Instead, my parents said I had it coming. A daughter from a minor noble house had never been good enough for the Falcone heir. My brother said I was too stupid to make myself lovable, and that was why I'd finally driven Lorenzo to cheat. Eventually, even I began to wonder if it was all my fault. I saw a therapist. She advised me to divorce as soon as possible and stop clinging to someone I wasn't good enough for. I came back to the estate in a daze, only to hear Lorenzo's voice in the study, warm with laughter. "Giuliana, you're the clever one. You suggested I fake those affairs so she'd get used to me cheating and wouldn't lose her mind and hurt you. "I've taken care of the therapist. Her parents and brother will keep pressuring her. Soon enough, she'll ask for the divorce herself. "As soon as she's gone, I'll marry you." I stood there listening as tears slipped down my cheeks. I'd been living inside a lie they had all helped build. I was done playing the fool in their elaborate charade.

Three years as his fiancée, reduced to nothing more than a soulless trinket. No going out. No friends. No opinions. Every breath I took was measured against Leo's mood. For three years I obeyed him unconditionally, trying to warm the heart of this mafia tyrant. Then today, in the fitting room at the atelier, his adoptive sister Alice snatched my couture wedding gown right off the rack. She didn't even have the decency to do it behind my back; she walked straight into Leo's arms while I stood there watching. Leo barely glanced at me. Just patted her head and said, “It's just a dress. Let her have it.” Three years of patience, and that's what it came to. A joke. I looked at the two of them, that smug, triumphant, and I thought: Marciano, did you really think I wouldn't fight back?

On the day that was supposed to be my wedding—the bride wasn’t me. The ceremony I’d waited for five years for turned into a joke when Valentina, my sister, walked down the marble aisle in a white wedding dress. Her arm was linked with Luca’s — the man who was supposed to be waiting for me at the altar. “I’m sorry, Bianca,” she said softly. “But you are no longer the bride today.” Then she touched her stomach, eyes gleaming with triumph. “I’m pregnant with Don Romano’s child.” Her words detonated inside my skull, and the whole world went silent. As if afraid I wouldn’t believe her, she lifted something glossy up towards the light. A black-and-white ultrasound image. It read clearly: Gestational age — 12 weeks. My eyes burned, tears stinging as I turned to Luca, desperately searching for anything—a denial, an explanation, regret. Instead, he only sighed, weary and resigned. “Bianca, I’m sorry.” he said helplessly. “Valentina doesn’t have much time left. This wedding… it was her last wish.” “I’ll make it up to you,” he added. “We can have another wedding later.” My father, Moretti, stood behind him, wearing the same stern expression he’d worn my entire life. I have never seen him smile at me, not even once. “Bianca,” he said sharply, “Your sister is dying. Let her have this.” My brother nodded without saying a single word, as if that was enough to be a solid answer. All my life, they had chosen her—her tears, her whims, her needs—over mine. Today was no different. Something inside me quietly cracked. Fine. If no one in this family cares about me, I’ll leave.

I turned down the arranged marriage my parents had set up for me, determined to marry Cassian Russo, all because he had taken a bullet for me during an attack. I thought I had chosen love. I helped him become the Don of Philadelphia, but Cassian always believed I had forced my way into his life because I was the Morettis' only daughter. On our tenth anniversary, I came home with a pregnancy report I had waited ten years for, only to find another woman lying in my bed. The way she stroked her belly said it all: she was carrying his child. Cassian shielded her behind him. "Bianca is carrying a boy. He'll be the heir to the Russo Family. I won't let you hurt her or the baby." I didn't take out the results I had just been given. His brow creased, clearly bracing himself for tears and tantrums, like always. "Don't worry. The title of Donna will always be yours." What he didn't know was that I was done making scenes, and I no longer wanted the title of Donna. The ten-year pact I had with my father had reached its deadline. This time, I was leaving him for good.

After my prenatal appointment, the doctor at the private hospital stopped me. "Mrs. Marchetti, your husband specifically asked me to make sure you didn't leave alone after your appointment. "He said it isn't safe for you to go home alone in this snow. He'll be here to pick you up soon." The staff around us laughed and told me what a wonderful husband I had. Seven months pregnant, I rested a hand on my belly and felt a rush of warmth. But even after dark, when the last of the staff had gone home, my husband, Chris Marchetti, still hadn't shown up. Outside the window, the wind screamed and the snow came down hard. I couldn't help it. I called him. Once... twice... The line was busy both times. Then a notification popped up on my screen. Ivy Bellini, Don Angelo Bellini's daughter, had posted on Instagram. "Look at this haul! Shout-out to Chris for spending the whole day shopping with me. Heading home now." The photos showed more gift boxes than one trunk could hold, and Chris in profile, focused on the road. The chill of the phone against my fingers seemed to spread to my heart. It wasn't the first time. Before our wedding, Chris had promised to come to my dress fitting, but he'd helped Ivy pick a gown instead. On my birthday, he promised me dinner but went to watch fireworks with Ivy. On our anniversary, he promised to take me back to the estate but took Ivy to an auction instead. For three years, every promise he broke, he broke for Ivy. A message from Chris popped up. "Sorry, baby. A last-minute meeting came up. Can you grab a cab home?" "Don't be upset. It's bad for your health." I smiled bitterly and typed back. "Okay." I was never going to be upset with him again.

After seven years with Luca Lorenzetti, I was finally in a wedding dress. We were at a private photography studio in Sicily that served only members of the Lorenzetti family. My best friend, Avery Conti, who'd introduced me to Luca years earlier, was trying on her bridesmaid dress nearby. The moment Avery stepped out in her custom silver gown, Luca's eyes lit up in a way I'd never seen before. Luca asked Avery to join us for a few shots. "Think of it as a keepsake from before the wedding." I stood in the middle in my wedding gown. Avery fussed with her skirt off to the side and laughed softly. "Maybe not. Standing next to Chloe in this, I'd look like an ugly duckling." Without a word, Luca walked over, pushed me aside, and gave Avery the spot right in the center. When the shutter clicked, the two of them stood shoulder to shoulder like a couple made for each other. As we looked through the photos, Luca pointed to one of the three of us. He wanted it enlarged, framed, and used as the welcome poster for our wedding. I frowned. "Avery's in the middle of our wedding poster? That doesn't seem right." Luca gave me a disapproving look. "Chloe, why are you being so difficult? If Avery hadn't introduced us, you'd never even have met me. "So what if we use one group photo? You're still the one standing at the altar with me in the end, aren't you?" I looked at myself in the photo. Even in the most expensive dress there, I looked like an outsider who'd wandered into the frame by mistake. Some places aren't yours, even when you're standing in them. If that's how it is, I don't want to be his bride anymore.

I stood by Carlos Mancini for 50 years. I watched him rise from a nobody on the streets of Sicily to the cold-blooded Don of a Mafia empire. I thought we were soulmates who could never be pulled apart. I believed that until the day he lay dying. I leaned over his bed, sobbing my heart out. But his cloudy, unfocused eyes looked straight through me, fixed on something far away. He murmured, "Nina, in the next life, we can finally be together..." In that moment, I felt as if I'd been struck by lightning. Nina Russo was the widow of one of Carlos's fallen men. 40 years ago, he'd brought that timid woman back to the estate and looked at me hopefully. "Sam Russo died for me. It's my responsibility to take care of her for the rest of her life." I pulled out my revolver, pressed it to my temple, and made him choose between Nina and me. He was terrified. He snatched the gun away, pulled me into his arms, and tried to calm me down. "You're overthinking this. You're the only woman I've ever loved. I don't feel anything like that for her." He sent Nina overseas with a large sum of money, enough to make sure she'd never want for anything. But from that day on, the light went out of his eyes. When I opened my eyes again, I'd gone back 40 years. Young and handsome in his black trench coat, Carlos stood tall before me while Nina hid behind him, looking fragile. Carlos looked at me with a hint of nervousness and anticipation in his eyes. "Alice, she's Sam's wife. I promised Sam I'd take care of her..." I swirled the glass in my hand and let out a soft laugh. "Of course. Let her stay at the estate." This time, I chose to let them have each other while I walked away.

My best friend, Lillian Russo, was married to Daniel Falco, a small-time thug from a second-rate New York family. When I heard he'd been beating her, my boyfriend Vittorio Cordano and I flew out in the middle of the night. I crushed Daniel's ribs under my stiletto while Vittorio dealt with the bodyguards trying to get through the door. Lillian wiped the blood from her face and slapped him hard, again and again. In the car on the way home, the three of us looked at each other's bruises and laughed our heads off in the Sicilian morning light. Lillian was laughing and crying at the same time. "You two have to stay together forever. If you ever split up, who am I supposed to go with?" Vittorio had one hand on the wheel. He snorted. "Santina is my only weakness. Stop worrying about us and take care of yourself." From that day on, Lillian lived with us, and I did everything I could to take care of her. I spent so much time looking after her that one night, in bed, Vittorio gripped my waist, his voice low and dangerous. "Santina, did you forget? You're my woman." Three months later, I came back from a business trip and found a plush charm in Vittorio's car. Something cute and girly. No matter how many times I asked, he wouldn't tell me who'd given it to him. "We're done!" I threw the words at him and told Lillian to come with me. But Lillian kept her head down. While I watched, she walked, step by step, over to Vittorio's side.

The most reckless thing I had ever done was turn my back on the Moretti name and leave St. Clair Harbor with Lucian DeLuca when the Commission pushed his family out and he had nothing left. For three years, we lived in a drafty Brooklyn loft and ducked black Chevrolets on winter nights. Then Lucian fought his way back to the East Coast table. Everyone started calling him Mr. DeLuca again,and I became Mrs. DeLuca, the woman he swore he would always protect. Then Clara Voss appeared. She had once saved his life as a night nurse at an underground clinic, and Lucian never forgot it. He bought her a clinic, protected her family, and let her step, inch by inch, into the middle of our marriage. He said he still loved me, but he also said I was spoiled, jealous, and needed to learn my place. So I did. I signed the divorce papers and left New York behind. Mrs. DeLuca was dead. Evelyn Moretti had come back.

The day I married Dante Moretti, I became the youngest Donna in New York. He took the Family seal from me and put the Family's ledgers and vault keys in the hands of his Underboss Valentina. She was his second-in-command and his lover. Even as Donna, I needed her signature before I could spend a dollar of the Family's money. Then Beatrice Moretti, Dante's mother and the former Donna, was attacked outside a church. The secret clinic demanded half a million dollars in cash before they would operate. I couldn't reach Dante, so I had to go to Valentina for access to the emergency vault. She sat behind Dante's desk, painting her nails. "You want money? Kneel, kiss my instep, and submit a request form." I did as I was told. Because my mother-in-law was lying on that operating table, and she was the only person who had ever treated me like a daughter. Valentina deliberately spilled coffee on the form and tore it to pieces. Not long after, the church bells tolled for the dead. And Dante, with his arm around Valentina, asked, "It's your mother who died. Why should we pay for her?"

I was in the living room, handling some work, and casually asked the smart assistant to play some music. "Alexa, play some jazz." "Sure. By the way, just a reminder—four days from now, at ten in the morning, you're scheduled to accompany Sienna to her prenatal checkup." My hand froze midair. My name is Victoria. And I'm not pregnant. Jonathan was walking out of the bathroom, towel-drying his hair. He saw the look on my face and pulled me into his arms. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" I casually darkened my phone screen and smiled. "Nothing. Just a little tired." Jonathan kissed my forehead, his eyes tender and full of love. "Go get some sleep. Don't miss your birthday party tomorrow—you're the star of the night. I can't wait to spend it with you." I leaned into his chest, my lips curling into a cold little smile. My dear husband, you'd better not have done anything to betray me. Otherwise, you're about to find out exactly what it costs to betray the daughter of a mafia family.