Mga Maiikling Kuwento at Nobelang Hypocrisy Mafia Karma

"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.

I've been married to Federico Moretti for four years, and the entire time, we've lived in a run-down basement. He works three jobs, all to save up money to buy me a house filled with morning sunlight and make it our home. So when the doctor gives me my diagnosis, all I can think about is how I'm about to become a burden to him. When I get home, Federico is crouched in front of a leaking pipe, wrapping tape around it. He looks up and spots the hospital envelope in my hand, his expression darkening. "Sera, how many times have I told you? Those white coats are all crooks. Look at Alfredo's mom. She had a whole bunch of tests done and spent all that money, only to get better after drinking some mulled wine." I glance down at the diagnosis report and suddenly smile. "What if I really am dying?" He frowns. "Don't talk like that. We still owe each other a real wedding. And if you're really sick, I'll make sure you get treated, even if I have to sell my own organs." That night, I swallow all my painkillers at once, determined not to be a burden to him anymore. When I open my eyes again, I'm floating in midair, watching Federico sit on a leather couch inside a private manor. Julia Rossi leans against one of the pillars in the living room, a glass of wine in hand and smiling. "Mr. Moretti, it must have been rough on you, living in that pigeonhole day after day, pretending to be poor for her." Federico takes off his cheap digital watch and tosses it into the fireplace. "You know I love her. But the Black Crown values loyalty above all else, and in my position as Underboss, everyone around me has an angle. Without a setup like this, how could I ever be sure she loves me for who I am and not for my power and money?" Only now do I understand. All those years of scraping by are nothing but a test he carefully staged. However, it has cost me my life.

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.

As the Donna of the Moretti Family, I paid out of my own pocket to build a high-security school for the children of our fallen members. But the widows repaid me by dragging my name through the media. Worse, they leaked the locations of three safe houses, dealing the Family a devastating blow. They claimed the school was never a benefit at all, but a “hostage camp” where I kept their children to force them to remain loyal to the Family. While Don Lorenzo Moretti was away, they even filed an impeachment motion with the Family Council, demanding that I shut down the school and hand its operating funds directly to them. Fine. I signed the closure order that very day. But the moment the notice went out, the widows swarmed the estate gates, crying and begging me to reopen the school. Only then did they understand— What waited for their children beyond the school gates was never freedom. It was a rival Family’s hit list.

The day a rat sold out our East Coast safe houses, the FBI got its hands on the addresses of every old base belonging to the Five Families. The Commission gave the order: every associate had to report to the neutral church and register within seventy-two hours. Only those who completed registration would make the evacuation list and be picked up by the convoys. Once the list was sealed, no one could be added. But Viola Romano claimed she was the daughter of the Commission's Chairman. She said her father had already saved a spot for everyone. They didn't need to register, and they could still leave on the priority convoy. My friends believed her and canceled their registrations, one after another. I begged them not to gamble with their lives and told them to register just in case. Viola immediately accused me of being jealous and trying to ruin things for everyone. My boyfriend, Matteo Russo, said I didn't understand power and that I belonged in line with the ordinary members. In my last life, I reported the whole thing to the Commission. Viola was exposed. Everyone managed to register before the deadline and secure a spot on the evacuation list. She was cast out of the Family for impersonating the Chairman's daughter and obstructing an emergency evacuation. In the end, she died in an FBI raid. Everyone said she got what she deserved. They thanked me for saving them. But after we moved into the new safe house, Matteo shot me from behind. The bullet went straight through my heart. The people I'd saved just stood there, watching coldly. "The worst that could've happened to us was getting arrested by the FBI. Viola lost her life!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Viola promised to get everyone onto the evacuation list.

My boyfriend's mistress posted a pregnancy announcement with him on Instagram. They looked ridiculously happy. Then she tagged me and asked for my blessing in front of everyone. Naturally, the whole internet waited for me to tear her apart. They had every reason to expect bloodshed. I'd dragged myself out of the ruins of a crime family and fought my way to the top of Wall Street. Julian Rhodes, meanwhile, was the son of the nanny who had raised me. And Emily Nash? She was a medical intern who grew up in the slums. Soon, even underground bookies were taking bets on what I'd do. Half bet Emily wouldn't make it out alive. The rest bet Julian would die beside her. I did neither. Instead, I shocked everyone by congratulating them. There was a reason for that. A month earlier, Julian had been badly injured while protecting me during a shootout at the pier. The head injury had left him with an alternate personality. That other Julian had fallen hard for the first person he'd seen when he woke up—Emily. A few days earlier, Emily twisted her ankle as she walked past me. That alone was enough to bring out Julian's other personality. He grabbed an antique vase and smashed it against my forehead. Hot blood ran down my brow and into my eye. My hand went straight to the gun at my hip. Then I stopped myself. He laughed and pointed at me. "Caroline, touch Emily again, and the real Julian will never wake up. You'll never see him again." Julian had saved my life the night my family was wiped out. He also held the access keys to everything I owned. So if I wanted the real Julian back, I had no choice but to endure it.

In Sicily, forgetting a face can get you killed. I was born face-blind. Unless I recognized someone's tattoo or voice, I had no idea who I was looking at. Sometimes, I couldn't even recognize my own parents. But my best friend, Sofia Ricci, was convinced I just wasn't trying hard enough. She decided it was time to cure me of all that "drama." She even got my brother, Don Victor Lombardi, and my fiancé, Luca Marchetti, to play along. The three of them called it "extreme survival training." At the underground casino, they once abandoned me in a private room packed with strangers. At family banquets, they'd ditch the suits I knew them by and vanish into the crowd. I would be left wandering from person to person, asking strangers for help because I couldn't tell who was who. To them, it was survival training. Today, we were in an Old Town square crawling with lowlifes, negotiating a deal. I only left for a moment to wash my hands. When I returned, the three of them had vanished. They were supposed to be waiting outside, but the bodyguards were nowhere to be seen either. Meanwhile, our enemies were closing in from the street. I instinctively reached for my radio. Then it hit me. Sofia had taken my encrypted radio earlier and offered to "hold on to it" for me. I swallowed my panic and backed into a nearby bar. As soon as I reached the counter, the bartender handed me a note. I knew the handwriting. Sofia. "We've shown you twice what the enemies on this street look like. Pick them out and find your own way out. You've got this, sweetie! We'll have drinks waiting for you at the safe house." I looked out the window. A blur of unfamiliar faces was closing in. What a joke. They call this training? They're gambling with my life. But maybe being face-blind isn't such a problem after all. With a gun in my hand, I don't need to recognize anyone. Anyone who comes near me is the enemy.

I sold my brand-new 300,000-dollar Bentley for cheap at a price of 30,000. Everyone thought I had gone crazy, but no one knew I had been reborn. In my last life, my mafia boyfriend, Clay Colton's childhood friend, Wendy Jeffords, was heavily pregnant when she experienced pain during the family's gathering. She grabbed my hand as tears streamed down her face. "Ciara, I'm begging you. I'm going into labor. Please take me to the hospital." I was in a panic, and I quickly drove her to the hospital in my new car. However, the baby suffocated from its umbilical cord wrapped around its neck, and the doctor was unable to save it despite doing his best. After Wendy was discharged, she came crying at my company's door while holding up a sign that read, 'Ciara Snow is a murderer! She killed my baby when she drove dangerously!' She told everyone she met that the ride in my car had been too bumpy, and it caused the umbilical cord to strangle her baby. Someone posted a clip of her online, and it trended right away. My pictures, house address, and phone number were revealed on the internet, and many strangers started cursing at me on my social media. I was fired by my company, and people started throwing rubbish at my door. My parents were too afraid of leaving the house due to harassment. My boyfriend, Clay, did not speak up for me when he was interviewed by the media and instead said, "Ciara loved showing off her new luxury car, and she only has herself to blame for everything that has happened." In the end, I jumped off a building. However, when I opened my eyes, I had returned to the day of the family gathering. Wendy was hugging her belly and looking pale as she approached me. "Ciara, I think I'm in labor. Please drive me to the hospital!"

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.

My father started out hauling cargo on the docks. By the end, he'd carved out seven city blocks, three harbor warehouses, and two casinos along the East Coast. I was six when he died. His will was a single line: “The family belongs to Luca. Let them choose who runs it.” The Family Council appointed Isabella Conti, my father's most trusted lieutenant, to run the family in my place. Isabella was good at it. She pulled the Vitale name back from the edge of ruin and made it the most respectable crime family on the East Coast. And me? I only came back to the estate for two weeks each summer, to soak up the sun, drink red wine, and do absolutely nothing. Then Isabella married an outsider named Riccardo Falco. On their wedding day, he cut off my access to the estate. “We're turning this place into a reception hall. Find yourself somewhere else to live.” After that, he set up a holding company in my name, with Isabella running it. Last night, in front of everyone, he had the nerve to say, “Luca, you're not a kid anymore. Time to learn to stand on your own two feet.” “Your distributions are over. From now on, you get three thousand dollars a month.” “Learn to manage your money. Stop wasting it.” Isabella raised her glass and nodded. “Riccardo's only looking out for you.” I looked at them and almost laughed. Three million dollars a month in payouts, slashed to three thousand? All thirty-seven of the family's businesses ultimately belonged to me.