เรื่องสั้นแนวIndependence Mafia และนิยาย Regret

The day Joss Carver was named the next Don of the Holden family, his childhood sweetheart Lydia Moss showed up. After that, I lost the little home Joss and I shared because Lydia needed a place to stay. Our dates were canceled, and our wedding was postponed, all because Lydia needed someone to look after her. In the end, Joss gave Lydia the top score I'd earned on the Mafia Commission's selection exam and the risk analyst job that came with it. He explained it to me like it was nothing. "You're Viscount Girard's daughter. You'll have plenty of other chances. But Lydia's an orphan. She needs this job more. "Once she's settled in, I'll come to your family and ask for your hand." I looked at him, and my gaze slowly cooled. He was right about one thing: as Viscount Girard's daughter, I had other options. Rigel Norton, the new Don of the Norton family, was young and successful, and he wanted a marriage alliance. I didn't have to cling to a love that had gone sour and keep swallowing my pride.

That night was supposed to belong to Mia. She had spent a month practicing for her first piano recital. I had cooked all afternoon, set the table, and helped her into the pale blue dress Luca loved. She stood beside the piano, cheeks flushed, fingers trembling with excitement. Then Luca's phone rang. Vivienne was spiraling again. After Luca's older brother died, his widow never really came back from it. On her worst nights, she forgot the difference between the dead husband she had lost and the brother-in-law who kept showing up to save her. And Luca always showed up. Every time Vivienne broke, he left us behind. Every time he came home, he brought apologies, pretty gifts, and promises for next time. And every time, I believed him. Until that night. Before he could make another excuse, I placed the divorce papers in front of him. He signed without reading them, then touched my shoulder like he was the one being generous. "When this is over, I'll make it up to you," he said. "You, me, and Mia. The Maldives. No calls. No interruptions." Then he kissed our daughter's hair and walked out before she played a single note. What Luca didn't know was that Mia's passport was already packed. So was the little suitcase under her bed. I was done waiting for a man who only loved us when no one else needed him. This time, he could come home to an empty house.

My adopted sister, Bianca, screwed up. Big time. It was at a charity dinner. Hosted by the Vitiellos. The most powerful Mafia Family on the East Coast. She spilled hot coffee on the Vitiello boss's sister. Right into her eyes. Almost blinded her. Massimo went ballistic. He’s the cold-blooded Don who runs the whole damn coast. He wanted a hostage from our family, the Costas. Within five days. Or it was war. My mother grabbed my hands. Her eyes were red and filled with pain. “Bianca didn’t mean it. She’s terrified. She’s hiding in her room, shaking so hard she can’t breathe. Valeria, you're tough. You can survive this. Just go to Massimo for a few days. I swear I'll get you back.” My twin brother sighed. “That Don is a psycho. Bianca is too delicate. She wouldn’t last a day. You’ve always been the strong one. Just… do this for her.” Even my fiancé, the man I’ve been engaged to for years, held me. He whispered, “Baby, just take the heat for her. Once this all blows over, I’ll give you the biggest wedding you’ve ever dreamed of.” What a joke. I wasn’t even at the party. But I was the one paying the price. So I gave them what they wanted. I walked right into the Vitiello estate. And then they regretted it. They cried, and begged me to come back.

I was born in the slums with nothing to my name, yet somehow, I once saved the most dangerous man in all of Sicile. In a crumbling shack, I treated his wounds while he patched the leaks in my roof whenever it rained. Later, he pulled me out of that miserable life and brought me into the heavily guarded estate of a mafia family. Together, we even had a son. However, seven years had passed, and he still had never publicly acknowledged either our child or me, all because my background was too lowly. Gabriele Carlos once told me that as long as our son proved himself exceptional enough, the family would eventually accept him. So even at only seven years old, my son pushed himself desperately hard to study languages, etiquette, and even firearms training. On his birthday, he was burning with fever, his little face pale, yet he still came out as the top student in his grade. Holding his award certificate tightly in his hands, his eyes shone brighter than I had ever seen. “Ma, Papa’s finally going to acknowledge me this time, isn’t he?” So, I took the certificate and went to look for Gabriele at his residence. However, through the heavy doors, I overheard him discussing a wedding with the daughter of another mafia family. They talked about the wedding date, the alliance between their families, and how the territories and profits would be divided afterward. Then, someone suddenly asked, “What about her and the child?” After a brief silence, Gabriele answered calmly, “Just keep them hidden.” Those words struck me hard. So the seven years my son and I had spent waiting meant nothing at all. We had only been fooling ourselves, believing things would change. Well, Gabriele might want us hidden, but unfortunately for him, I was done hiding.

My sister Sofia and I married into the Moretti family, New York's most feared dynasty, and got pregnant less than a month apart. I married Dante Moretti, the eldest son and youngest trauma surgery chief St. Vincent's had ever appointed. Sofia married his younger brother Luca, a Major Crimes detective with a badge and a Moretti army at his back. One carried a scalpel. The other carried a gun. Behind them stood a family that owned docks, unions, private clubs, and half the secrets in Manhattan. Everyone said we'd won a life women would kill for. On my first anniversary, I left a maternity clinic with our daughter's fetal heart scans. Sofia hopped out at a bakery for a cinnamon-apple tart. That craving saved her life. The black Cadillac carrying me cut through an intersection and drove straight into an armored truck. Metal folded around me. Glass filled my mouth. Beneath the screaming brakes, I felt my baby stop moving. I called Dante with a bloodied hand. He rejected me three times before answering the fourth. "Enough with the loyalty tests, Elena. Valentina's old gunshot wound triggered an arrhythmia, and I'm treating her. You and Sofia don't get to invent emergencies every time we help her." Sofia called Luca in tears. He was at Valentina's townhouse investigating a triggered alarm. "A false report leaves a record," he said. "Stop helping your sister put on a show." In the end, my eight-month-pregnant sister smashed open the warped car door and dragged me through broken glass and leaking gasoline. She commandeered a hotel SUV and drove me to the ER herself. I survived. She went into premature labor and lost her son the same night I lost my daughter. After surgery, we lay in neighboring beds while dawn bled through the windows. "Elena," Sofia whispered, "I'm done with my marriage." I reached across and took her ice-cold hand. "So am I."

At the awards for the Global Jewelry Design Competition, my stepsister Sandra took the grand prize. She used the designs she stole from me. What she didn’t know was the show’s biggest sponsor: Jude Moretti. Godfather of the Moretti family. A bloodthirsty monster scarred in an explosion, a man they say can never have children. And the grand prize? Becoming the Godfather’s bride. That night, Moretti’s men, all in black, delivered a gold-trimmed marriage contract. They were here for the “genius designer.” My fiancé, Marco, panicked. He whisked Sandra off to Vegas to save her. They got married that night. With the deed done, Sandra strutted back in, wearing my silk robe. She flashed the ring on her finger and the hickies all over her neck. “Marco’s mine now,” she purred. “What are you going to do, Odessa? The Godfather’s only giving you a day. If you don’t marry him, the Family will have to appease him. That means sending you to the red-light district. Selling you to the kind of sicko who gets off on broken things.” She was wrong. I had another choice. I found my father and stepmother, both scrambling to deal with the contract. “I’ll do it,” I said. “I’ll marry the Godfather.”

My twin sister, Lea Conte, and I married two brothers from a powerful mafia family. When I'm seven months pregnant, I'm ambushed by a group of thugs. Desperate, I call my husband, Vincenzo Bellini, for help, but he hangs up on me five times. On the sixth try, he finally answers, but his voice is cold. "Ingrid's having a breakdown and trying to slit her wrists. Do you really have to pull a cheap stunt like this right now just to get my attention? Stop calling!" Ingrid Ferri is the Bellini family's adopted daughter and the childhood sweetheart of the Bellini brothers. I fight back with everything I have, but one of the thugs still drives a blade straight into my stomach. As I lie bleeding out, Lea bursts in and fights like hell to save me, only to end up gravely wounded herself. She calls her husband, Roberto Bellini, begging him to send doctors, but he just snaps back, "How long are you two sisters going to keep playing these games? Do you really need to steal medical care from Ingrid right now? Drop it!" Lea and I collapse side by side in a pool of blood with only one thought left in our minds—if we make it through this, we're leaving them.

Less than a week after calling off our engagement, Vincent Moretti, the new Don of the Moretti family, married Bianca Marino—the woman I'd once risked my life to save from a firefight. I gave back my family crest and walked away without a fight. The family elders were all waiting for me to fall apart. None of them thought Vincent's "mad dog" could make it without him. For seven years, I'd been his blade, and I'd done it willingly. I betrayed my own family to help him reclaim his territory. I stopped countless attempts on his life and was wounded so many times protecting him that there was barely a patch of unscarred skin left on my body. But the moment he became Don, everything changed. The blood on my hands suddenly disgusted him. He said someone like me had no right to wear the Donna's ring or stand beside him as the face of the family. After that, no one in New York would hire me. I ended up taking jobs cleaning up murder scenes for Brooklyn's underworld. Then I took the blame for someone else and got jumped by a group of gangsters. They shoved my face into the mud and beat me until I could barely move. I thought I was going to die there. Then Vincent came charging in like a madman. He shot one of them in the head, rushed to me, and pulled me into his arms with trembling hands. That familiar cologne hit me at once. I struggled to breathe. I wiped the blood from my eye and gave him a faint, bitter smile. "Thanks for the help, Mr. Moretti. Need someone to clean this up? I'm taking cash only today."

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.

After my parents dead, I was taken in by one of his closest friends—the Draycotts. Kaelen Draycott, their only son, treated me like I was family. And I, stupidly, fell for him. When I confessed, he called me sick. Evil. Disgusting. From that day on, he made my life hell. He brought women home, loud enough for me to hear everything. Just to remind me where I stood. When it came down to it, he saved his fiancée. Left me to be shot, mocked, and forgotten. I knew what he was capable of. So this time, I made the choice. I’m leaving. And knowing how much he hates me— Let my farewell be the best wedding gift he’ll ever get.

The day my mafia husband, Vincent Colletti, chose his subordinate Serena Vega and her daughter Daisy over us yet again, I began teaching our daughter not to expect anything from him. One stormy night, our daughter was too scared to sleep. Vincent hesitated, then went to comfort Daisy instead. I took a storybook and a stuffed animal to Eve's room and sat on the edge of her bed. "It's okay. Don Colletti has things to take care of. Mommy's here with you." Vincent bailed on the family trip Eve had been looking forward to for two weeks, all because Serena said Daisy wanted to go to an amusement park. I held Eve's hand as we boarded the plane. "Baby, Don Colletti isn't coming, but we're still going on our trip." Every time Vincent chose them over her, it took Eve a long time to get over it. It went on like that until Vincent finally woke up to how long he'd been neglecting us. He kissed Eve's cheek, eager to make it up to her. "Sorry, sweetheart. Next week, you'll have the grandest baptism ceremony the family has ever seen." But at the Blood Oath Baptism, the Colletti family's ceremony to formally acknowledge and protect a child, Vincent got a call from Serena. She sobbed into the phone. "Daisy's getting teased at school for not having a dad. Could you come pretend to be her dad?" Vincent barely hesitated. He turned to Eve with a coaxing, apologetic look. "Eve, Daddy has something urgent to take care of. I need to leave for a little while." Eve stood there. She didn't cry or make a fuss. Before he could even finish, she quietly nodded. "It's okay, Don Colletti. I have Mommy, and that's enough."

My husband, Kieran, is the heir to the Thompson family. In the three years of our arranged marriage, he has never once touched me. I told myself he was just cold and guarded, that I could find a way into his heart, little by little. Then one day he came home drunk, pinned me to the bed for the first time, and called out his first love's name. "Camilla, all these years... I've thought of you every second of every day..." That was when I knew. All the passion and love he possessed was already spent on another woman. I pushed him away, burned every photo of us, and went to a high-end club in New York full of handsome male models. Nine months later, I walked into the airport with my newborn baby in my arms. Later, Kieran searched the world for me, his eyes bloodshot. He asked in a trembling voice why I never told him I was pregnant, why I wouldn't let him see our baby. I glanced at him and gave a light, breezy smile. "Who said the baby was yours?"

I’m the Chief Counsel for Donatello Vexille, the Godfather of the Vexille family. I’m also his secret wife. At night, he’d pull me close, take me with a ragged violence, leaving his marks on me, a brutal claim I couldn’t refuse. But by day, I was just his lawyer. All he had for me were cold commands. We lived like that for three years. I decided I was done. But he couldn’t know. When I handed him the divorce papers, disguised as a bill of lading, and he signed his name, a breath I didn’t know I was holding finally escaped me. I chased him for seven years and was married to him for three. Whatever was left of my heart finally flatlined. I knew I could never have his. Because it already belonged to someone else: Angelina, his underboss’s sister. He remembered her favorite restaurant. He got blind drunk with joy when she filed for divorce. He even posted his personal guards outside her door. Those were honors I never had. So I tricked him into signing the papers, packed my things, and vanished. What I didn't expect was what he did after I left. He put a king's ransom on my location, and even announced to the whole world that I was his wife.

Ever since she was two, Elara Vane became her twin sister's personal blood bank after the girl was diagnosed with a rare genetic defect. Doctors predicted her sister wouldn't live past eighteen, so her parents and brother doted on her, putting her first in everything. They even blamed Elara, accusing her of "stealing" her sister's nutrients in the womb, claiming it made her sickly. In her past life, no one in the family loved her. Only her fiancé, Dante, truly stayed by her side. But Elara never expected Dante's love had its own agenda. Until her sister accidentally fell off a cliff and needed a full blood transfusion. Dante signed the consent form without hesitation, sending her to the operating table to be the donor. As her blood drained and her consciousness faded, Elara swore that in another life, she would never be her sister's blood bag again! The next time she opened her eyes, she was back to the day after her engagement to Dante...

When I arrived at the engagement party, I bent down to pick up my dropped purse, only to find my fiancé and my best friend had already walked into the banquet hall side-by-side. By the time I gathered up my dress and hurried after them, Susie had naturally linked her arm through Charles'. They were chatting and laughing together, casually discussing how to take over an international drug trade route that day. It was as if I had never existed. Growing up, Susie and Charles were the two most brilliant prodigies in Sandelford's mafia families. As adults, they both became the most capable members of their respective families. Charles even became the Don of the Anderson family several years ago. Meanwhile, I was constantly stuck playing catch-up behind them. Even after all these years, I had never been given access to our family's core business operations. Charles used to comfort me by saying, "Innocence is a strength, too. You don't need to worry about the dirty work. Susie and I have it covered." He gave my forehead a gentle kiss, then turned around and flew off to Southeast Usia with Susie to negotiate business deals, keeping his phone switched off for days on end. Watching the two of them raise their glasses to celebrate another victory, a sudden wave of exhaustion hit me. I was tired of playing this game. Since I could never catch up to them, I wasn't going to chase after them anymore.

The day I buried my mother, my husband, Luca, the Don Ricci, conveniently disappeared. Later, my best friend, Annie, sent me a video. In it, she stood beside Luca in a hospital room while a doctor confirmed her pregnancy. Luca looked… happy. Radiant, even. The baby was theirs. Then another message came. Annie’s voice, “Sis, looks like you failed—just like your mother did against mine.” I had always known my father cheated on my mother and had a child out there somewhere. I just never imagined… it was Annie. That night, Luca came home—with Annie by his side. I said only four words. “I want a divorce.” Luca refused, saying I wouldn’t survive without him—but it was just gaslighting. In truth, he couldn’t afford to lose me or my family’s power. So I called one man Luca hated most in this world—his uncle, Stefan Ricci. The man who once stood equal to Luca in the race for power… If Luca believed he could humiliate me and still keep me tethered to him—his perfect little guarantee to the Don’s seat.… Then I could just as easily make another man take his place.

At my pre-wedding blowout, my sister Julia Gallo suddenly challenged my fiancé Lorenzo, heir to the next Don of the Bianchi family, to a "big bet." "Let me guess how many candies you've got in your hand." "Guess right, and whatever my forfeit is, you do it." "Guess wrong, and you're covering all the leftover booze." "I'm guessing... five." She said. Lorenzo opened his right hand. Three. Julia tipped her head back to down the rest of the wine. But then— "You win." Lorenzo pulled his left hand from his pocket. "There are two more. Right here." Julia smiled at him. But tears shimmered in her eyes. She unfolded the note she'd written in advance. "Then I'm sorry. I didn't think I'd actually guess it right off the top of my head." "Your wedding is postponed. Three years." The room went dead silent. Lorenzo just kept smiling. "We've been betting since the day we first touched family business. When have we ever backed out?" "A bet's a bet." This wasn't the first time Lorenzo used me as collateral. I looked up at the clock—past midnight. My phone buzzed. A message from a familiar number. "Happy birthday." "You're not married at twenty-seven, you marry me. Still on?" I replied: "A bet's a bet. Three days, and I'll honor our deal."

To become the Don of the Henry family, my husband, Jesse Henry, chose to divorce me and marry Lina, the daughter of the Mitchell family's Don. He promised that in a year, once he took the godfather's seat, he would remarry me. He said I was the only Donna he would ever acknowledge. But his promise never came true. Instead, I heard that his Donna was pregnant. Everyone thought that I, the woman so hopelessly in love, would forgive him and keep waiting. But in the end, I quietly left and vanished completely from his life. Five years later, I ran into him at a luxury boutique. The salesgirl was packing up the ties I'd picked out. The moment she saw him, her tone turned impossibly eager. "Don, you're here. The suits Donna picked for you are ready." Jesse gave a slight nod, his gaze lingering on the tie in my hand. "Put everything she bought on my tab." I politely declined and set a card on the counter. He smirked. "After all these years, you still can't forget me. You even remember my favorite tie color." "Once you're done throwing your little fit, come back. I'll remarry you. Lina's kid is older now—you can treat him like your own." I smiled and said nothing. He didn't know I was only there to pick out gifts for my husband's family members. Take care of his child? I have my own little treasure.

After I was reborn, the first thing I did was burn every photo of Vincent Corleone and me. Then I threw his engagement ring into the fireplace and deleted every voicemail where he swore I was the only woman he would ever love. Because in my last life, that love turned me into a joke. Vincent said he loved me, but after I gave up my place at a world-class institute for him, he took Lilian White to Europe instead. She was the orphan he felt guilty for. The fragile girl he said needed protection. I was Isabella Rossi, heiress to the Rossi crime family. So I was supposed to be strong. Strong enough to smile when he missed my birthday for her. Strong enough to stay quiet when she wore my mother’s necklace. Strong enough to survive the crash meant to kill me. For seven days, I lay in a hospital bed, conscious but unable to move, listening to him visit my room for two minutes before spending the rest of the day holding her hand. Before my heart stopped, I finally understood. Vincent would kill for me. But he would always choose her. When I opened my eyes again, I was back three months before I rejected the institute for him. This time, I did not cry. I did not ask him to choose. I accepted the offer, sold my assets, erased my name from his life, and waited for my birthday. The day Vincent planned to propose again was the day I disappeared. He could keep his guilt. He could keep his fragile little Lilian. I was done being the strong woman he never thought he had to save.

On our third Valentine's Day since marrying the Don Arthur, he set the three places at the dining table. With the same hands he used to wield a gun, he carefully peeled shrimp. Shrimp was Lora's favorite, the first love he'd never gotten over. I was allergic to shellfish. He dismissed every hurt he'd caused me and sided with Lora every time. He was certain I loved him so deeply that I would swallow every insult and step aside forever. Everything changed when I discovered Lora's role in my father's murder and learned how completely Arthur's blind trust in her had buried the truth. That was when I finally saw him clearly. I was done with Arthur and the love he claimed to have for me.