Plot Twists Mafia の短編小説 &HomewreckerMarriage小説

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?

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.

My boyfriend had a border collie named Milo that he treated like his own child. No matter how broke we were, Milo never went without. We waited outside the warehouse club for its 10 p.m. bread markdowns, then bought Milo fresh seafood flown in that morning. We worked until conjunctivitis left our eyes bloodshot and still didn't dare take a day off, all so we could send Milo to a summer camp that cost more than three thousand dollars. I always thought Lucian simply loved animals too much, that people could tough it out but Milo shouldn't have to suffer. Until the Calloway heir threw a lavish banquet in the north end of town for his beloved pet's birthday. I snuck in hoping to take home some food for Milo, only to discover that the host was my boyfriend, Lucian Calloway, and the birthday pet was Milo. A single napkin at their table was worth more than my entire year's salary. A guest tossing off a casual compliment about how silky the coat looked walked away with a generous reward. That was when it hit me: with a snap of his fingers, Lucian could have paid to treat the stomach and eye problems I'd developed from overwork. And there I was, the fool who'd hidden my medical reports to save money, gutting it out year after year. Maybe in his mind, spending money on strangers and the dog was a better investment than spending it on me. So it was time for me to leave. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in a long time. "The marriage alliance with the Bennetts. I accept."

On the day we were supposed to get our marriage license, the groom's name was swapped out. The woman my boyfriend was now promised to—the pampered mafia princess nestled in his arms—looked at me with a triumphant smile. "Isn't it perfect?" she sneered. "A fraud of a bride for a fake heir. What a match." I ignored her and turned to the man I loved. This was the man who endured three days of brutal punishment just for the right to marry me, when the Rossi family first acknowledged him as their true heir. Now, he just nodded along with her. "Don't be so dramatic. It's a joke. You're not actually mad, are you? It's just a piece of paper. Once Sienna's had her fun, you two get a divorce, and then it'll be our turn. I promise." I smiled. Then I turned and walked straight to the so-called "fake" heir. "The marriage license is filed, honey," I said. "Let's go plan our real wedding."

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.

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.

In the fifth year of my secret marriage to Dante Greco, a notorious Los Angeles mafia heir, I became pregnant. While I was at the family hospital for a prenatal checkup, I happened to see Vivienne Sarti's Instagram. "He says I'm still pretty even when I'm pregnant!" In the photo, she was lying lazily in a man's arms. My chest tightened at once. On his finger was the lion-head ring worn by the Greco Don. I tapped the "Like" button. Seconds later, Vivienne called me. "Ana, I wasn't trying to upset you. I was—" Before Vivienne could finish, Dante snatched the phone from her. "Anna Reid, who gave you permission to monitor our social media accounts? I've explained it to you plenty of times. We grew up together, and our families work together. If you keep getting jealous like this, how are the rest of us supposed to function?" I gripped my phone. For five years, Vivienne had used their childhood bond as an excuse to insult me. I had endured it every time. Dante would spend whole nights with Vivienne under the pretext of discussing family business. The moment I asked about it, he refused to say a word. He always said it was because I had no mafia background of my own. It wasn't my world, and I was done trying to force my way into it. I took off my wedding ring and dropped it in a trash can on the street. Then I called the private hospital. "Hello. I want today's prenatal record deleted. No one can know about it."

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.

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

Five years into my relationship with a Godfather-to-be, I realized Cicio Russo had fallen for someone else. And I decided that the choice should be his. I laid the options right in front of him: break up with me, or send that someone else far away overseas. Cicio Russo stood outside my windows all night, down there with the coldness of the night cutting through him and fogging his breath. By morning, Cicio told me that he'd decided. His choice was me. Or at least - that was what I was made to believe. Surprise came on the very day of our wedding, a strange little boy ran straight down the aisle that was supposed to be mine to walk. “Daddy,” he cried at Cicio and Cicio’s face of stony indifference, “What about me? You have left mommy already. Are you going to abandon me, too?” The ring slipped from Cicio’s hand and hit the carpet with a muted thud. He turned his back on me and walked away without even looking back. I pulled off the white veil. And I snatched the microphone from the host. “If you take one more step,” I screamed into the microphone, “if you leave, I will give all this up. And you, too. Do you hear me? I will give you up.” He froze. For only one second. Then he stepped away anyway.

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."

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.

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." ...

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.