Independence Mafia 단편 소설 & 소설

Everyone believed Bianca needed Julian Hale’s name to survive in the elite art world. For three years, he cooked every meal for her, removed every woman from his side, and made the entire city believe she was the only woman he would ever marry. Then, on the night he proposed, Bianca revealed the one condition written into her family’s succession rules: her husband must place half of his personal fortune into a protected marital trust. Julian called her a gold digger. He let Vivian humiliate her, watched as the scandal destroyed her reputation, and used his family’s influence to remove her from the orchestra. Then he offered Bianca one final choice—sign his prenuptial agreement and return to him, or lose everything she had built. Julian thought his name had protected her. He had no idea Bianca was the hidden heir to the Moretti empire—or that her father had been waiting for her to come home. By the time Julian discovers the truth, Bianca no longer needs his protection, his money, or his love. And the Moretti heiress he tried to break has no intention of forgiving him.

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.

At a mafia family banquet, my boyfriend of five years, Emilio Gimondi, gives away the ring that symbolizes the family's Donna to his childhood friend, Carlotta Lecce. Someone asks in astonishment, "You gave the ring to Carlotta? Isn't Ms. Rinaldi going to be angry?" Emilio looks completely unconcerned. "A proposal is just a formality. Zita is going to be the Donna eventually. She doesn't need to throw a tantrum over a ring." Carlotta makes a point of flashing the ring in front of me. "Zita, isn't it pretty?" Emilio thinks I'll react the way I always have—in anger and jealousy. Instead, I simply watch them quietly and say that it does indeed look nice. He relaxes, thinking that I've finally learned my place. He promises that once we marry, he'll make it up to me with something much better than that ring. But what he doesn't know is that I've already been accepted into medical school. Very soon, I'll be gone.

On the night I married the most powerful mafia boss in New York, he held me close and whispered, "My life is full of blood and violence. To keep you safe, let's keep our marriage a secret, okay?" I was so touched that I nodded. From then on, my husband hid my identity from the world. Down in the streets, nobody in the mob had any idea I was the Don's wife. I never thought his sick "protection" meant cutting me off completely. Four months pregnant and dead broke, I took a low-life gig dealing at an underground casino. That night, pushing a drink cart past the VIP suite, I caught my terrifying mafia husband, Marcello, partying hard with his inner circle. He was lounging lazily on the velvet sofa, casually asking his second-in-command, "I wire half a million dollars to my wife's account every month. Is that still not enough for her to burn through?" The underboss nearly dropped his glass. "Half a million isn't enough? Boss, is she out of her mind? That's a whole year of living expenses for most people!" Marcello's eyes darkened. "She said she was short on cash last night, so I transferred another two hundred thousand right away." "And this morning, she had the nerve to threaten me with a divorce. She said I couldn't afford the life she wants." Standing outside the door, staring at the pathetic $150 balance on my phone, I shook with rage and kicked the suite door wide open. I planted a hard slap right across the ruthless New York mafia boss's face. "Tell me! How many bitches are you actually paying for on the side?!" Marcello frowned. "I have only ever touched you in my life!" I froze completely in my tracks. If he's telling the truth... why is my monthly allowance only a pathetic 150 bucks?

When Adriano Morelli realized I hadn’t submitted a single household request in three days, he called me himself for the first time in months. “Serafina,” he said, his voice smooth and patient, “the clinic has been cleared. Your file is back on priority. See? When you stop making things difficult and learn how this family works, I make sure you’re taken care of.” He always sounded the gentlest when he was reminding me who held the power. What he didn’t know was that by the time his name lit up my screen, the divorce papers were already drafted. From the outside, I had everything a woman could want: a guarded penthouse, a driver on call, designer clothes, and the last name of one of the most feared men in the city. But almost none of it was mine. The cards were monitored. Cash had to be approved. Staff took Viviana Costa’s orders before they ever listened to me. Even the wardrobe budget, my schedule, and access to the family office all ran through her hands. Adriano called it convenience. Three days ago, I was rushed into a private clinic, blood soaking through my dress, while a doctor told me there was still a chance to save the baby if the emergency deposit was paid immediately. I called Adriano until my hands shook. Viviana stalled the transfer. First there was no direct authorization. Then the amount was too large. Then Adriano was in a meeting and could not be disturbed over something that might not be serious. By the time the money came through, it was too late. The baby was gone. I had stayed with Adriano for two reasons: I loved him, and I believed that when it truly mattered, he would choose me. I was wrong about both. Our child died first. My marriage died with it.

The Moretti Family raised a stable of orphans to be its next heir. I was one of them. But in every test, I always came out second best. Lucia always came out on top. Then, just before the bid that would decide the heir, I was bound to a Switching System. Comments scrolled past my eyes: [Oh, it's over. The villainess has always been jealous of the main character, Lucia, for getting first place. She’s definitely using the system to swap their proposals!] [Good thing Lucia can hear Olivia’s conversation with the system. She’s already planning to hand in a blank sheet of paper.] [So what if the villainess schemes all she wants? All she’ll get is a blank page! In the end, Lucia will inherit the Moretti Family and become the new Don! So satisfying!] Just then, the system prompted: [Please designate your switch target.] Without a second's hesitation, I thought, "Lucia." The moment I did, I saw Lucia shoot me a strange, triumphant look. I knew then. She'd heard everything. But she had no idea. I wasn't swapping her proposal. I was taking what was most precious to her.

I walked in on my husband, Dante Cavallaro, in bed with three women. This time, I didn't shoot any of them in the head as I once would have. I slipped off my wedding ring and tossed it onto the card table. "Fifty thousand says I leave the Cavallaro family today." Everyone bet I wouldn't dare. Five years ago, my family was slaughtered. To pay my father's crushing medical bills, I was forced to sign a contract promising the Cavallaro family a child. I had five years to give them an heir. When I was eight months pregnant, Dante found the contract and decided our marriage had been a setup. In the middle of the fight, he lost control and shoved me down the stairs. I lost the baby and the chance to ever have another. After that, he started bringing home one woman after another. Now he was threatening to cut off my father's oxygen because his new favorite had hurt herself and blamed me. Dante was sure I'd never leave him. I needed his money to keep my father alive. What he didn't know was that the contract had one more clause. I'd bought myself a way out with every port my family owned. "If no heir is born within five years, the woman may end the agreement on her own and leave freely." Today was the last day of those five years.

The day I came of age, I had to honor the pact: marry a son of the Blackwood family. In my first life, I chose Julian, the man I’d loved for years. But after we were married, he treated me as nothing more than a tool for his pleasure and cheated on me with my adopted sister, Seraphina. They flaunted their affair right in front of me. In the end, they poisoned me, leaving me to die a bitter, hateful death. Reborn, when the Don Blackwood asked who I would choose for the marriage pact, I didn’t hesitate. I pointed to the sickly Damien. This time, I’d let Julian and Seraphina have each other. But this time, Julian was the one filled with regret.

I was sent back in time to the very day my sister and I had to choose our mafia husbands. This time, though, I discovered I could hear people’s thoughts. In my previous life, my sister married Caspian, a violent brute. She lived every day in fear, trapped in a nightmare she could never escape. I, on the other hand, married Arnold—the gentleman everyone admired, living a life others envied. However, my sister had also been sent back in time, and this time, she made her move first. She chose Arnold, the “perfect husband” she had always coveted. At that moment, her thoughts echoed clearly in my mind. ‘Elysia shall suffer instead. This time, I’ll make sure I choose the good husband first.’ Her malice was unmistakable. My dear sister, did you really think I was happy in my last life? Since you want that life so badly, I’ll hand it to you myself.

Everyone knew I’d do anything for Lucius Falcone. I was his shadow, his most devoted follower… or, to be blunt, his lapdog. For three years, I trailed after him, indulging his every mafia-heir whim. When he went street racing at midnight, I was in the passenger seat, even when I was burning up with a 104-degree fever. When he was screwing some other woman, he’d call me to bring toys, and I’d show up, no questions asked. Finally, Lucius started to soften. Just when everyone thought I was about to finally get what I’d been working for… At the party celebrating his taking over as Don of the Falcone family, he showed up with some bombshell on his arm. He gave me a bored look and said, "You're dull in bed. Tina, on the other hand, knows how to get me off." The whole room was waiting for me to break down. Instead, I just gave a small smile. "Then congratulations to you both." Then I turned, walked out, and got on a plane to Paris. Lucius was already making bets that I’d come crawling back within three days. What he didn't know was that his mother had paid me five million dollars to do it all. The contract was up. The money was in my account. I was finally free to leave him and to finally chase my own dream in Paris.

My twin sister, Bianca, tried to kill herself because I was better than her at school. Apparently, my success triggered her. So my parents sent me away from the Bellini estate. “Only until the college decisions come out,” Mother promised. “Then you can come home.” Behind her, my brother, Dante, helped Bianca choose her new armored Bentley. My boyfriend, Luca, stood beside them, holding Bianca’s favorite white roses. “If anything happens, call us, Valentina.” I did. A month later, a drunk man showed up at my door and wouldn't stop pounding. I locked myself in the bathroom and called my family again and again. Every call was declined. Near dawn, Mother finally texted. Sorry, sweetheart. We were celebrating Bianca’s birthday. Seeing your name might have upset her. After that, I stopped asking for help. The last college decision arrived, but they still wouldn’t let me return. Then, at our eighteenth-birthday gala, the Bellinis presented Bianca to New York as their beloved and only principessa. Mother sent me another message. Your sister still needs time. Please wait. This time, I was done waiting. They didn’t know I had already accepted my offer from MIT. I was leaving the Bellini family behind.

That year, during the Sicilian arms trafficking conflict, my lover of three years, Silvio, deliberately betrayed my transport routes at a critical moment in a deal with the rival "DiMarco" family, causing me to lose all my territory. He immediately defected to the DiMarco family's leader Marina, becoming her lover. As he left, he didn't even bother to disguise his betrayal, coldly tossing out, "What we had was just business, nothing personal." While I was burdened with my family's blood debts and pushed to the edge of a cliff, Lorenzo, who had secretly harbored feelings for me since childhood, found me and offered his family's entire fortune. "Isabella, don't be afraid. In my eyes, you'll always be Sicily's most formidable Queen of the Arms Trade," he said. He took the Colt pistol from my hand, and his voice was gentle yet resolute. Five years later, my power resurged. I was about to completely crush Marina's smuggling network and reclaim everything I had lost. My caporegimes, the captains of my organization, were ready and waiting for my command. But on the night before the operation, my weapons warehouse suddenly exploded, turning priceless arms into worthless scrap metal. I barely escaped through the thick smoke, my body covered in burns. In a secluded monastery, I overheard Lorenzo and Silvio whispering outside my door. "You really had the guts to blow up the arsenal. Weren't you afraid of blasting her to pieces too?" Silvio's voice carried a mocking tone. "If she died, just died. I've always loved Marina. If it weren't for that unlucky family marriage lottery five years ago, I wouldn't have had to endure this ugly bitch for all this time." Lorenzo's voice was ice-cold and unfamiliar. I closed my eyes, feeling like a dagger had pierced my chest. Explosion. Arranged marriage. Ugly bitch. So those five years of shared hardship were just his unwilling choice after losing a high-stakes gamble. "I married her to keep watch. If it weren't for me paving

Two months after I stepped down as Boss, my eldest son Gideon pressed a barrel to the back of my head. I put him in that chair with my own hands. "Mom. An eighty-million-dollar shipment went down. The Five Families want blood." My adopted daughter Alessia stood beside him, sobbing fake tears. She ran the books. "Mom, Gideon just took the seat. He can't have a stain like this. You're retired anyway. Do this for us, one last time." Such devoted children. I signed the exile contract. In return, I got five million in hush money and an order to get the hell out of Chicago. Then the enforcers from the High Commission slammed a ledger onto the table. It was my younger son, Silas. The one who ran the docks. He sold out the route and laundered the payout with our South American rivals. I thought the circus was over. My sweet little girl wiped her tears in a second. She shoved the papers against my chest, cold as stone. "The streets already think it's you, so just die for us. We have pure Mafia blood in our veins. We can't let our future burn." Right then, I laughed out loud. These ungrateful mutts really thought they carried royal Sicilian blood. They took twenty years of my mercy and treated it like dirt under their shoes. They had no idea. They were just street rats I pulled out of slum dumpsters. Now they want me to take the bullet? When I built this empire on dead bodies and became the only female Boss in the Great Lakes, their little hands couldn't even hold a gun without shaking.

On my wedding day, all my friends told me I hit the ultimate jackpot. Everyone knew the story: my groom was gorgeous, insanely rich, and the don of the most powerful mafia family in town. At the altar, he held my hand, kissed it, and promised me forever. Looking into his eyes, I really thought I got my happily ever after. But over the next eight months, he bailed on our city hall appointments to sign the marriage license—25 times. Always with a new excuse. Right before our 26th attempt, he flaked again. All because Sienna, his late savior's daughter, had another "emergency." I didn't lose my mind like I used to. I just quietly took off my engagement ring, packed my bags, and bought a single ticket to London. Every single compromise chipped away at my love until nothing was left. This time, I'm the one dumping him.

After my driver's girlfriend refused to let me in the car, she went out of her mind with regret. I am the principessa of the Stascia family. To investigate the truth behind my father's death, I disguised myself as a big-spending international student, chauffeured to and from school in a luxury car every day. Ever since Damian became my private driver, he'd been taking liberties with my car without permission. I turned a blind eye. Until one rainy night when I was being hunted. I called him to pick me up, but his girlfriend threw me out of the car. "This is my boyfriend's car. Who do you think you are? Get out!" Covered in blood and slumped on the side of the road, I smiled as I dialed a number. "Tell the Family. I know the truth." Later, Damian and his little girlfriend knelt before me, begging for mercy. "If you hadn't kicked me out of the car that night, you wouldn't have exposed yourself this quickly. Any regrets?"

Back home in Sicily, there’s a rule. If I’m not married by 30, I go back for an arranged marriage. When I told my boyfriend, Jax, he scoffed. "What century is your hometown stuck in? The Middle Ages? Arranged marriages? Alessia, I said I'd marry you. Stop trying to force my hand with this pathetic drama." He casually pulled out a pigeon-blood ruby ring and tossed it to his personal assistant, Bianca. She caught it, blushing. "I was going to propose tonight. But since you’re so desperate, I think we both need to cool off." The ring I’d waited years for. He just threw it to someone else. My heart froze over. Jax walked out of my office with a conqueror's smirk. Bianca pushed the ring toward me. I didn't even look at it. "Take it. It’s your size, isn't it?" The color drained from her face. I shoved her out the door. Right before I slammed it shut, I said, "Tell your boss we're done." He didn't know the "elders" forcing me into this marriage were led by the most ruthless Godfather in Sicily. And the "blind date" was an arranged union with the Don of the North American Five Families.

Ethan and I met at a soup kitchen in the slums. We were fighting over half a moldy bread roll. I only learned his story from other people later. His father was the head of Lorencio's largest crime family, killed in a bloody power struggle from within. His mother took a payout and vanished. My father was an accountant for another family. He was framed for cooking the books and shot dead. Same story, same wound. That was what brought us together. We clawed our way up from a crumbling slum to the marble halls of the Lorencio crime families, until finally Ethan took his seat as Don of the Valeria Family. Nine years of marriage. No church. No proposal. Not even a proper cake. Then one day, out of nowhere, Ethan said he wanted to get me a diamond ring. "We had no church and no priest when we got married. I've been meaning to do this properly for a long time. And there'll be more to come." I stared at the custom diamond in the display case, enormous and flawless, and felt something close to happiness. The sales associate smiled and complimented his taste, mentioning that another couple had just ordered a ring too. They'd walked out minutes ago, planning a proposal for tomorrow. "Nine years together and still this in love. That's everything." I reached for his hand. He stepped away, said he needed to take a call. I hadn't heard his phone ring. I followed. Down the hallway, I watched him press a woman against the wall, his mouth on hers. His voice was sharp with jealousy. "You actually agreed to let him propose to you?" "Break it off. I'll buy you the ring." I stood frozen. My chest caved in. Then a pair of hands pulled me into a fitting room alcove. A man's breath was close, warm in the dark. A low voice, almost amused: "Your husband's sleeping with my fiancée. Why don't we give it a try too?"

Damian made a habit of letting everyone wait for him. Including me. I waited at the restaurant until every last guest had gone, and only then did he show up in the doorway. Our wedding anniversary. He dragged it out until past midnight before he finally came home with a gift. Even at my mother's funeral, he didn't arrive until after the priest had finished the eulogy. I asked him why. He said he was used to it. He said his line of work was all about making people lose track of time. After all, he was a Don. The casinos under his name didn't have a single clock on the walls. It wasn't until I was hospitalized after a car accident that cost me my early pregnancy that I called him, enduring the pain, and he said he'd get back as soon as he could. He told me to wait. But he never showed. Not once, all the way through to the end of my surgery. As I lay there in that hospital bed, I saw that Vera, his business partner, had posted an update on social media. [Stayed up with me across the day-night divide, just to make up for a birthday wish that was one second late.] In the video, Damian was personally placing a diamond-studded birthday crown on her head. The timing was perfect. Not a second off. He'd traveled tens of thousands of miles with Vera. All to chase back the time difference, so Vera could have her birthday all over again. I stared at the phone screen, my eyes burning, tears spilling over. Everyone had to wait for Damian. Everyone except one person. That person was Vera. Not me. Finally, a message came through from Damian. He said he was almost there. He told me to just wait a little longer. I pressed the screen dark. I wasn't going to wait for him anymore. I chose to leave.

To make Lilith Vance happy, Vincent Salvi hands her the western coast shipping route I had worked so hard to secure. Tears stream down the young woman's face as she clutches Vincent's sleeve and nervously glances at me. "Don Salvi, are you really letting me manage the route Donna Cecilia risks her life to secure? I've never even held a gun. What if I mess everything up?" Vincent gently pats Lilith's back, unable to bear seeing her so upset. She's the only family his savior leaves behind. Vincent turns to me, his voice softening as he gives me a pleading look. "Cecilia, today marks the anniversary of her brother's death, and she's having a rough time. Lilith just wants to try managing the route for a few days. "You're a respected Donna. Don't hold it against an innocent young lady like her. Let her manage it for a while. It will make her feel better." This is the third territory Vincent takes from me just to please Lilith. He's convinced that I'm too in love with him to walk away after five years of fighting by his side. He assumes that all he has to do is ask, and I'll swallow my pride like always. He thinks I'll help him repay his debt to his savior and clean up their mess. This time, I don't protest with tears in my eyes. I simply smile and slip off the family signet ring that represents my power. "Sure. It's yours." Vincent has no idea that the weapons tycoon behind the route does business with no one else but me. The handover deadline is just five days away. When Lilith, that helpless young woman who does nothing but cry, finally faces the weapons tycoon, she takes the entire Salvi family down with her.

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.