Hypocrisy Mafia Short Stories & Bullying Novels

As the youngest daughter of the powerful mafia family, the Blythes, I was spoiled the moment I was born. I had three older brothers who adored me. When I turned eighteen, our father was killed in a turf fight. The shock sent our mother into a rapid decline, and she passed away less than a week later. To avenge our father, my three brothers waged war against our enemies for three days. Though they emerged victorious, all three were critically wounded. My eldest brother, Damon Blythe, suffered a ruptured liver and was on the brink of death. Matt Blythe, my second brother, had severe kidney damage. Chris Blythe had lost too much blood and went into heart failure. I spent a fortune hiring the world’s top surgeons. They transplanted half of my liver to Damon, a kidney to Matt, and even gave my heart to Chris, replacing mine with a mechanical one. Thanks to the doctors’ skill, all three survived and went on to take over the Blythes’ empire. Five years later, they became infatuated with Sophia Foster, a poor but strong-willed intern. They even forced me to give up my last kidney to her. It was only after I had died on the operating table that they regretted what they had done.

It was Thanksgiving. Bianca, the former high school queen bee, was getting married. She sent an e-invite to our private school group chat, tagging everyone. I was going to ignore it. Then, she @’d me directly: "Alessia, I know you faked your wealthy background in high school to show off. But I'm the bigger person. I'll let you come tomorrow. See what a real mafia wedding looks like." Her minions quickly chimed in. "You're too generous, Bianca! No wonder you're marrying into the inner circle of the Castiglione family. You even forgave a vain fake like Alessia!" "Alessia? At a mansion wedding? She'll just humiliate herself if she shows up." The chat was filled with trash talk, but Bianca played the saint. "Let it go, guys. It's in the past. She has nothing anyway. Let's not be hard on her." Right on cue, everyone praised her noble heart. I lay in my husband's massive, cold bed. My fingertips traced the family crest on the silk sheets. His crest. The most feared mafia Godfather in North America. I let out a cold laugh. Back then, she stole my Vitali family name. She turned me, a real mafia princess, into a pathetic wannabe. She made me a target for bullying and humiliation. I opened the e-invite. My eyes narrowed. The venue was my family's estate in the Hamptons. And the groom in the photo looked awfully familiar. Short hair, hooked nose, a scar on his chin. Wasn't that Nico? My husband Rocco's driver? A slow smirk touched my lips. A bloodthirsty glint flashed in my eyes. I grabbed the burner phone Rocco left on the pillow. I texted his private number: "Your lapdog is acting up on my turf." Then I replied in the group chat: "Sure. I'll be there."

I was Sofia De Luca, the only biological daughter of Marco De Luca, the most powerful Don. Then my parents adopted Celeste De Luca as my younger sister, and everything changed. My birthday party could be cancelled because she threw a fit. My place at the elite academy went to her. Even the ruby brooch my grandmother left me was taken away because she said she liked it. On nothing but Celeste's word, my parents branded me a traitor to the De Luca family and personally handed me over to a rival family as a hostage. I endured every kind of torment there. They toured the world with their adopted daughter and lived in luxury. They forgot me completely. It was only when Celeste finally caused a disaster too big to bury that they remembered I existed. But once I was actually dead, the regret drove them out of their minds. If there really is another life, I have only one wish. I hope they learn how to be decent parents. But I do not want to be their daughter again.

"Tap more ash into his cup. He needs to understand this isn't the place for an idiot like him." I went to the break room at lunch to fill my water bottle. The second I walked in, I saw Santo and his crew gathered around my mug, ruining it. Ash coated the rim, and cigarette butts floated in the coffee. The sight turned my stomach. My folder lay on the floor with a few black boot prints across it. Santo raised an eyebrow when he saw me. "Good. You saw it. We don't feed idiots here. Go back where you came from. "You've got one week to leave on your own. After that, I have plenty of ways to make you disappear." I said coldly, "You don't call the shots at these docks." Tony, Santo's right-hand man, laughed, pulled out a gun, and tapped it against my temple once, then again. "You'll find out soon enough whether my word means anything. "You crossed Santo, and you still think you can stay? Dream on!" The others sneered, and every one of them slammed a shoulder into mine on the way out. I watched them go and smiled a little. They have no idea who I really am. And they certainly don't know that one word from me is all it would take to make Santo disappear from this world.