Plot Twists Mafia Short Stories & Independence Face Slapping Novels

"Consigliere, I want a divorce from Cassius. I’m handing back all the businesses under my name. Draft up the papers." The old Consigliere frowned. "Camilla, this marriage keeps the peace between our two families. Can you think this over?" I was the frontwoman for Cassius Marino’s dirty empire for three years. In the shadows, I was this cold-blooded Don's legal wife. A month ago, a Mexican cartel kidnapped me. That night, the cartels blew up my husband's secure line, demanding a thirty-million-dollar ransom. He let it ring. They ended up throwing me into an abandoned meat locker in freezing temperatures. I almost froze to death. Luckily, a butcher stumbled in and dragged me out just in time. And on that very night, while I was dying, Cassius was in a Vegas penthouse pool... fucking Bianca. The woman who stole my life. Right then, my years of love for him just vanished. This hopeless marriage was a mistake from day one. I finally woke up. And this time, I was ready to vanish from his dark empire for good. "My mind is made up," I gave the old Consigliere a cold nod. "And Cassius won't object." I always knew the truth—my Don husband never loved me for a single second. But I'd looked up to him like a fool since I was a little girl. Three years ago, when he casually asked if I wanted to marry him, I actually cried happy tears and said yes. Soon, the clock would strike midnight. It would be our third anniversary. I had the perfect final gift ready for the almighty Don—a divorce. Freedom for him, and for me.

After my husband, Don of the Rizzo family, died in a shootout, I took over the family and wiped out the one that killed him. To groom my daughter into the next heir, I handpicked four adopted sons to protect her. Ten years. I poured everything into them—my name, my money, my time. And every last one of them turned out exceptional and self-reliant. Over the years, with them at her side, my daughter moved forward steadily. Until the month before my daughter was about to take over my position, I got a desperate call from her. "Mom, help me... someone's got me trapped in the banquet hall. They're trying to rip my clothes off..." By the time I got there, my daughter was curled up in a corner, half her gown torn apart. And the four adopted sons I'd raised with my own hands? Standing outside the door with some girl, watching the show. All of this—because my daughter had gotten into an argument with her. When they saw me, there wasn't a shred of guilt on their faces. Just impatience. The eldest stepped in front of the girl. "Mom, she's the one who mouthed off first and pissed Isabella off. Since she never learned to respect people, I figured I'd teach her some manners for you." The third one's eyes flickered with disrespect. "Handling our little sister—that's not something you need to worry about." One look at their smug faces and I was done. Clearly, they'd forgotten who the real head of this family is.

To prepare me for life in the Moretti underworld, my boyfriend, Adrian Moretti, had his childhood friend, Chloe Marino, arrange a robbery drill for me every month. At first, they only stole my phone. Then came a knife in a parking garage, followed by someone tailing me late at night. Once I even opened my eyes in the middle of the night to find a masked man sitting on the edge of my bed with a gun pressed to my forehead. Afterward, Adrian told me, "Evelyn, if this is enough to scare you, you're only going to hold me back." Today was the twelfth time. A bullet grazed my ear and buried itself in the wall. Blood ran down the side of my face. I fell to the ground while Chloe stood at the curb, laughing so hard she could barely hold her phone. She waved the phone at Adrian. "I told you she'd be scared witless this time!" "A year, and you haven't improved in the slightest!" Adrian's voice was thick with disappointment. But he didn't know that I began weapons training at six, and at thirteen I got myself out of a kidnapping alone. If I'd wanted, none of those men would have gotten anywhere near my bag. The Morettis had long wanted a marriage alliance with the Castillos, but I had no intention of marrying a man who coveted my family's power. That was why I changed my identity, hid my abilities, and sought Adrian out on my own. Later, I heard Adrian admit it himself. The fearful look on my face made Chloe laugh, so they organized one robbery drill after another. And so I had my father end the marriage arrangement with the Morettis.

I married Don Caspian Serrano. The King of the New York Underworld. But I didn't know his ex-wife took more than just full custody of their daughter. She extracted an ironclad vow from him. Every quarter, he had to take them on a two-week vacation. All over the world. Right under the eyes of the Five Families. She called the shots. She wanted to prove one thing: the alliance between Serrano and her family was bulletproof. So on my wedding night? I slept alone. For three years, he missed every single anniversary. Until this year. His daughter sent me a prank gift. I tripped. I rolled down the stairs. Blood soaked the rug. I was hemorrhaging. Miscarrying. The doctors wouldn't operate without Caspian's approval. I called his encrypted line over a dozen times. He finally answered. His voice was exhausted. Annoyed. "Aria. Are you really making up this sick lie for attention? Framing my daughter?" "I just landed in Vegas. Tonight decides the survival of the West Coast syndicate. I am not ditching them for your petty games." "And another thing. Schedule your surgery tomorrow. Make sure you can't get pregnant. I swore a blood oath to her family. The only heir to the Serrano empire will ever be Nora." So that was it. Even if I wasn't bleeding out. He never wanted my baby. I hung up. Calmly. I touched my empty stomach. I signed the surgery consent form myself. He was loyal to his vow. Loyal to that woman. Fine. I didn't want to be his Donna anymore.

In my last life, my boyfriend’s adoptive sister, Lexi, asked to borrow my jacket at a class party. I lent it to her. The next day, she bullied another girl and pushed her off a rooftop to her death. The security cameras didn't catch her face, but the limited-edition custom jacket she was wearing—my jacket—made me the prime suspect. I tried to explain, but Lexi just threw herself into my boyfriend Preston’s arms, looking utterly wronged. "Vanessa, I know you're upset that Preston pays more attention to me, but you can't just frame me like this." Then Preston pulled out a video. The person pushing the girl off the roof and running away in a panic… it was my face, clear as day. "Vanessa," he said, his voice laced with disgust. "You're a monster." Consumed by grief, the victim's family pushed me out of a window to my death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Lexi asked to borrow my jacket. This time, I wasn't just going to say no. I was going to send Preston and Lexi straight to hell. What they didn't know was that I am the only daughter of the Falcone family, the most powerful mafia in New York.

I'd been married to Aurelio Moretti, the most powerful Don in Italy, for five years, and his lovers outnumbered the guns we ran through our underground deals. But I no longer got angry, because we'd signed a contract when we got married. The first clause said I had to respect Aurelio's private life. No interfering, no scenes, or I'd face the consequences. I'd already learned what breaking it would cost me. My father, Lorenzo Silvestri, lost the funding for his treatment and was thrown out of the hospital. After that, whenever he brought a lover home, I handed him the condoms myself. So when Aurelio announced he was going to marry Marilyn Shaw, his young lover, I smiled and clapped. His men all said Aurelio had finally tamed me, the thorniest rose Italy had ever seen. Only I knew that wasn't true. I was just getting ready to leave for good.

My Don husband, just to indulge his little mistress's fantasy of playing Don's wife, pretended to have lost his memory at sea and tried to push me out of the family. By chance, I overheard his mistress teasing him: "Can I borrow Don's wife for a few days? And… Can I borrow the Don too?" My husband, all smiles and indulgence, replied, "Of course. Both are yours for a few days." I froze for a moment, then turned away, pretending it did not bother me. The next day, at the family meeting, he announced that his mistress was then his wife, ordered me out of the family business, and demanded I hand over every ounce of authority I held. The elders all turned to me, silently hoping I would defy his ridiculous decree. I said nothing. I handed over the keys and authority without a word. However, he did not know that our next arms deal was just nine days away, and the other party was Amestia's most powerful mafia, the Romano family. They dealt with no one but me.

It's my seventh anniversary with Chase McGregor. I hide in his car's trunk while holding a pregnancy report. In my other hand, I hold a limited-edition watch that I've prepared for him. I want to surprise him and tell him we're about to have a child. To my surprise, I hear something that devastates me. "Chase, you're not really going to marry Daphne, are you? Lucille Gervais wants to marry you. As long as you do that, the North Sea's shipping routes, cargo operations, and drug trade will come under your control." "Help me set up a date with her. I'll break up with Daphne." My breathing hitches. I want to hear Chase object to this or show even the slightest bit of hesitation, but none of it comes. The pregnancy report slips from my fingers. I once thought he would be the father of my children; I thought we would have a happy family together. Now, my dream has been shattered.

During a street shootout, my distress signal was accidentally sent to the ex I had forgotten to delete. Dante, the district boss, looked down at me, covered in blood, and sneered: Three years, and you finally found an excuse to come looking for me?" "I'll give you credit for coming up with such a desperate act as taking a bullet. I'll forgive you this time." I trembled all over with fury. Three years ago, just because his childhood sweetheart, Mia, said she envied my engagement ring. Dante forcibly pulled the ring off my finger, and Mia became the star of the engagement party. I was thrown out of the banquet hall. That was when I gave up completely and fled New York. Seeing that I said nothing, he magnanimously bestowed upon me: "Mia has depression, and her father sacrificed himself for the family. I can't let her be wronged." "It's just a ring. Was it really worth sulking for three years?" "As long as you behave, we'll hold another engagement party next week." Listening to his smug tone, I gave a cold laugh. He didn't know. Over the past three years, I had already married the Mafia godfather to whom he had sworn unwavering loyalty. And now, he had to kneel on the ground and call me Donna.

In the middle of the night, my husband started talking in his sleep. "My little treasure, Daddy's taking you and Mommy to the new house tomorrow." But we were using protection. Where the hell did a kid come from? So I opened his phone. I saw the money transfers to another woman—spent on all kinds of luxury shit and a house. The photo album had pictures of her in a skimpy stripper outfit, a little bump in her belly. The last one was an ultrasound. Four months along, it looked like. I didn't make a sound. Just saved the evidence. They were about to learn the price of betraying a mafia princess.

After three years together, my boyfriend, Walker Ashford, proposed. But right after that, he got cold feet. At our wedding photo shoot, Walker buried his face against my best friend Anna Benedict's shoulder. "The way Valentina looks at me freaks me out," he said. At the jewelry shop, he grabbed Anna's hand and refused to let go. None of it made sense. But my future mother-in-law, Judith Ashford, pulled me aside. "Valentina, why not let Anna take your place in the photos? We can put you in later." Walker's sister, Emma Ashford, pushed Anna forward. "She has better taste. Let her pick the ring for you." I swallowed my hurt and watched in silence as they took my wedding photos and picked out my ring for me. Under the lights, the diamonds glittered so brightly they hurt my eyes. I was about to postpone the wedding when I overheard Judith say to my best friend, "Anna, having Walker pretend to get cold feet was a smart move. Otherwise, how could you two have a wedding of your own without Valentina finding out?" Emma curled her lip. "Valentina is an idiot. She believes everything we tell her." Walker sighed and stroked Anna's hair. "Anna is sick. It's her wish to marry me. If Valentina weren't so controlling, I wouldn't have to keep this wedding a secret from her. Anna gets the wedding. Valentina gets the legal marriage. Sounds fair to me." So that was it. Walker had never gotten cold feet. They had made up the whole thing to fool me. I was done with their lies. I decided to return to Florence and take back my life as a mafia princess. "Dad, I'll marry whoever you choose."

I was a mafia princess, sick of the life. After my father died, all I wanted was a normal life. I helped my husband, Marco, take his company public. I fought his battles. I took care of his mother. I paid for his sister’s tuition and her addiction to luxury. Then, at our tenth-anniversary party, he gave my mother's bracelet to his childhood flame, Isabella. He even fucked her in our bed. I hired a PI. Found out he knew who I was from the start. He used me. Planned to be a Wall Street hotshot, then toss me aside. He thought my family was wiped out. That no one had my back. That he could walk all over me. He didn’t break until his company was bleeding partners and staring down bankruptcy. He got on his knees, crying and begging me to forgive him.

Everyone on the terrace laughed when Mara Brennan slipped her room key into my fiancé’s jacket pocket. “Does she honestly think a room key will make Adrian overlook that face? The Morettis don’t take in damaged goods.” A second later, someone dumped a glass of wine over her head. Mara went still. I stepped in front of the cameras and offered her a handkerchief, but she shook me off. “Drop the saint act, Vivian. You just got luckier with your parents.” The next morning, I woke above an auto restoration shop, unable to lift my left shoulder. Raised scars ran along my neck. An old tablet lit up beside the bed. In the video, Mara kissed an emerald brooch, wearing my face. [That woman in New Orleans actually pulled it off. I gave her my savings, and she put me in your body. Your name, your lakefront mansion, Adrian—they’re all mine. You can spend the rest of your life being the freak nobody wants to touch.] I switched off the video and pressed a hand to my scarred cheek, then laughed. Mara thought she’d stolen the Falcone family’s greatest treasure. She had no idea how long I’d been begging someone to let me out.

On my wedding day, my twin sister refused to take off my dress. "The groom's car is almost here, Isabella. Give it back." But my father was already smoothing her skirt. "Let her have it. You're twins—no one can tell you apart." My mother pinned her veil and tossed me the bridesmaid dress. "It's just a ceremony, Camilla. You're still the one getting married." Just like always. Whatever Isabella wanted, I wasn't allowed to fight for. The last chicken wing. The only scholarship. Now my own wedding dress. I reached for my phone to call Luca. Isabella snatched it from my hand. "Let's play a game. We swap places—no one tells. I want you to see, with your own eyes, who Luca really loves." I almost said no. Then I saw it. A bump in the lace, right over the heart. I pulled back the silk and read a word stitched in pale gold thread. Tesoro. The name he whispered to her a hundred times. The name he had never once said to me. My wedding dress had never been meant for me. So I unclasped the diamond necklace he gave me and set it down. "Then she can have the audience too." I slipped into the burgundy bridesmaid dress and watched my sister walk down the aisle wearing my name and my life. Then Luca pressed a key into my palm and whispered, "Come to the penthouse tonight, Tesoro." He had no idea he was confessing to the wrong sister.

I'm the heiress of the Corleone family, with three childhood sweethearts who used to adore me and watch over me like I was their whole world. Then Daisy Washington, the little maid, showed up—and suddenly I didn't exist anymore. But my father, the don, didn't know. So at the family victory gala, right in the middle of the toast, my father said, "Freya, tell me, who's the one? Point him out, and we'll get you engaged tonight. Right here, right now." The whole room went quiet. Every pair of eyes swung to my three so-called protectors: Nico Gibson, Arlo Mcdonald, and Rhett Owens. But they acted like they hadn't heard a thing. One was feeding Daisy from his fork. One was whispering something that made her giggle. And the third just watched her with that soft, doting look I used to get. The room went dead silent. My father's face stiffened. I quickly jumped in, "Dad, my boyfriend's overseas. I'll bring him to meet you when he's back." The three of them snorted, shooting me mocking looks. I knew they didn't believe me. They thought I was just saving face. But I actually did have a boyfriend.

At the family meeting, my mafia Don husband spared his secretary one glance. I turned and walked away, canceled our wedding anniversary celebration, and decided I was done with him. I signed my name on the divorce papers I had prepared long ago. When Matteo Santoro saw the agreement, he called me at once, his voice tight with restrained anger. "What are you trying to pull this time? Is this really because I looked at Elena?" "Yes," I said. "Because you looked at her."

My father was one of the first dons to rise out of the Naples mob. My mother was an iron-fisted businesswoman with a reputation that made grown men flinch. When I was ten, somebody had the nerve to hijack one of my father's freight ships. He had the man's arms and legs broken with a crowbar, then stuffed a handful of gold rings down his throat — told him to count his money while he crawled. When I was fifteen, some scheming woman tried to get her claws into my father. My mother hired the filthiest pimps off the docks, shipped her down to a back-alley bar in Marseille, and told her to make her own way. And me — I grew up running the streets of Naples like I owned them. The sons of every other family knew to call me Miss Ferrante and keep their hands to themselves. Then I met him. A rough, quiet man fresh out of the army. For him I put down the knives, traded the silk for plain cotton, and followed him back to that little nothing of a coastal town, Porto Scuro. Today my mother-in-law and my husband went down to the dock warehouses to settle a dispute. They held her face down in a barrel of rotting fish guts. They kicked in three of his ribs. I stared at the salt fish I'd been slicing on the kitchen board, let out a cold laugh, and brought the knife down so hard the oak split in half. Then I dialed my father's private line.

In the ten years I spent helping Dante Moretti secure his position as Don, he never once gave me the title I deserved. The night before our anniversary, I sent him a design for a sapphire brooch, the kind reserved for the Don's own family. Dante's call came through immediately. "Have you forgotten how we clawed our way out of that bloodbath? Stop bringing up frivolous things like this." I quietly agreed and unsent the design, only to catch a glimpse of Dante in the private dining hall, personally pinning a brooch that symbolized the Family's authority onto a girl's gown. "Dante, this is too extravagant... Sapphires are so rare. People will object if you use one to make me a brooch." "You deserve the best. As long as it makes you happy, none of the Family's treasures are a waste." He paused. "Send whatever scraps are left over to Valentina. She's used to roughing it with me. She won't care what she gets." Colette Marino gave a soft laugh. "So Valentina stuck with you through all the suffering, and I get to enjoy the power and glory. Is that it?" Dante didn't deny it. A single low hum crushed every sacrifice I'd made in the past ten years. My nails dug through the design sheet and into my palm, but I felt no pain at all. The butler from the private hall approached with a deferential nod. "Ms. Russo, would you like me to cancel the design order? There's only one sapphire left." "Don't cancel it. If the remaining sapphire isn't enough, use a ruby instead, the Family's one and only."

I woke in the middle of the night to my Don husband murmuring in his sleep. “Juno, be good. Tomorrow I’ll buy you and Mamma a new house.” My eyes flew open. Juno? That was the name I’d always planned for a purebred Ceylon cat I dreamed of owning, but I’d never gotten one because of my pet fur allergy. And a new house? Could this just be a coincidence? I shook him lightly. “What did you just say?” He frowned and mumbled coarsely, “Had a nightmare. Dreamt of a shootout.” I didn’t press further. In the darkness, I reached for his phone and silently opened his messages.

My classmate Bianca and I have the same taste. She wants every man I’ve ever dated. She says I’m too naive. That I don't see how powerful men think. She calls it “testing” them for me. She says she’s helping. Then she sleeps with my boyfriend. Then she rubs it in my face. “See? I told you that you can’t handle them. These men are sharks. If it wasn’t for me, you’d have been eaten alive by now.” I choked on my rage. I said nothing. This time, I went behind her back. I went after the king of New York's underworld. When she found out, she made her move. But she has no idea. This man isn't my endgame. He's the trap I set for her.