Plot Twists Mafia の短編小説 &MafiaCheating小説

I was supposed to marry Marco DeLuca, the man of my dreams, in just three days. He was the mafia don of the South—dangerous, ruthless, the kind of man everyone warned you about. And I came from the Moretti family, just as powerful, a dominant force in the North. But just when I thought I had it all, fate had other plans. What was supposed to be a simple drug deal negotiation—one Marco had asked me to cover—quickly spiraled into a gunfight. In the chaos, a bullet tore through my chest. Marco made sure everyone in that room paid for my accident, but no matter what he did, it didn’t change the fact that I was lying here, wondering if my life would ever be the same. And it only got worse. In the haze between consciousness and dreams, I overheard Marco speaking with his family doctor. “After removing the bullet from Miss Moretti’s chest, we found fragments near her heart,” Dr. Levois said. “She may need another surgery.” “There’s no need for another surgery. As long as she can breathe, I’ll take care of her for the rest of her life. But if you treat her now, she’ll wake up and ruin everything I’ve planned.” Marco’s words hit me hard. “And I promised Camilla I would bring our daughter, Violetta, into the family,” he continued. “It’s better this way. Gianna won’t be a threat to her then.” So the wedding I’d longed for, the love I once believed in, was nothing but a cruel illusion. What Marco wanted, what I thought was mine, had twisted into my worst nightmare. If this was what Marco truly wanted… so be it. It wasn’t like I cared anymore.

My husband, Damien Falcone, had 99 lovers. And I was the mafia princess men lined up to die for. The day we got together, everyone in our world took bets. They said we wouldn't last three months. But then , everything changed. For me, he wiped his phone clean, built a rose manor, and got down on one knee. Then, on our wedding night, he told me he wanted an open marriage. "Our bodies can play," he said. "But our loyalty? That's just for us." I agreed. Then came his 100th lover, Sophia Ricci. She betrayed our family in an arms deal. Almost got my father killed. But Damien protected her. He even moved her into our home. So, I did what any heartbroken mafia princess would do. I got drunk and woke up in another man's bed. I just didn't know that man was Damien's uncle.

My mother-in-law’s final wish was simple—she wanted one last trip to Hawaii, to bask in the warmth of the sun before her time ran out. But her son, Vincent, didn’t see it that way. He thought I was manipulating her, using her as an excuse to drag him on a vacation he didn’t want. So, out of spite, he refused to grant her dying wish. I begged him. Pleaded. Swallowed my pride and all the hurt his accusations brought. After relentless persuasion, he finally relented. I thought, at last, I could give Lucy the happiness she deserved. But on the day we were set to leave, Vincent was nowhere to be found. And that same day, Lucy suffered a heart attack. She passed away with only me by her side—never getting to feel the warmth of the sun on her skin one last time. And then I saw it. A picture. Vincent, tagged at a luxury resort with his ex. The caption from her read: Thank you for abandoning your job to take me on this trip. You’re the best. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I didn’t even confront him. I just packed my bags and left. And this time? Vincent found out about the truth and begged me to stay.

“I need your help to fake a private jet crash,” I said quietly. “It’s the only way I can ever leave Luca Moretti.” People said he’d given up the Mafia throne for me. They called him the man who traded power for love— the heir who walked away from blood and gold just to marry a waitress from the slums. For years, he made the world believe in us. He built empires under my name. He sent me roses every Monday. He told the press I was his salvation. But love doesn’t always mean loyalty. While I was busy believing in forever, he was building a second home behind my back— one filled with laughter, toys, and twin sons who had his eyes. The night I disappeared, his empire burned. He tore apart cities, bribed governments, and buried men alive just to find me. But by the time he did— I was already gone. And the woman he’d once died for no longer loved him enough to stay alive.

Three days ago, the Lucchese Family's assassins ambushed a Moretti Family stronghold, and I threw myself in front of Eric without a second thought. That was the fourth time I'd taken a bullet for him. But before I could even begin to recover from the gunshot wound, my attending physician handed me an even more devastating diagnosis: late-stage brain cancer. The tumor had already metastasized, and I had less than a month to live. Just as I sat there in agony,Eric walked in，he strode to my bedside and took my hand, his expression tender with concern. Knowing I only had days left, I tested the waters. "Eric... when are we getting married? Will you marry me?" "Soon, soon, sweetheart. Trust me. Once I've secured the Don's seat and cleared out all those old men in the Family who oppose me, I'll give you the most spectacular wedding this country has ever seen. I'll make sure everyone knows that you, Selena, are the only woman worthy of standing by my side." His voice was so sincere that it could have fooled anyone. But in that very instant, I heard another voice. [Damn it, why is Selena bringing up marriage now? Doesn't she know I'm at the most critical moment in the power struggle? Angelina is the Astalotta Family's princess. Only by marrying her can I get her father's backing and secure my position as the Moretti Don once and for all.] [Marrying Angelina is just a strategic move. I'm putting on a show with her, using her family's influence. Selena is the true love of my life. Why can't she just be a little more understanding and stop pressuring me at the worst possible time?] I could hear Eric's thoughts. And what chilled me to the bone was the brutal truth hidden in those thoughts. I closed my eyes, exhausted. I didn't expose him. I didn't have the strength to confront him. I was out of time.

After my prenatal appointment, the doctor at the private hospital stopped me. "Mrs. Marchetti, your husband specifically asked me to make sure you didn't leave alone after your appointment. "He said it isn't safe for you to go home alone in this snow. He'll be here to pick you up soon." The staff around us laughed and told me what a wonderful husband I had. Seven months pregnant, I rested a hand on my belly and felt a rush of warmth. But even after dark, when the last of the staff had gone home, my husband, Chris Marchetti, still hadn't shown up. Outside the window, the wind screamed and the snow came down hard. I couldn't help it. I called him. Once... twice... The line was busy both times. Then a notification popped up on my screen. Ivy Bellini, Don Angelo Bellini's daughter, had posted on Instagram. "Look at this haul! Shout-out to Chris for spending the whole day shopping with me. Heading home now." The photos showed more gift boxes than one trunk could hold, and Chris in profile, focused on the road. The chill of the phone against my fingers seemed to spread to my heart. It wasn't the first time. Before our wedding, Chris had promised to come to my dress fitting, but he'd helped Ivy pick a gown instead. On my birthday, he promised me dinner but went to watch fireworks with Ivy. On our anniversary, he promised to take me back to the estate but took Ivy to an auction instead. For three years, every promise he broke, he broke for Ivy. A message from Chris popped up. "Sorry, baby. A last-minute meeting came up. Can you grab a cab home?" "Don't be upset. It's bad for your health." I smiled bitterly and typed back. "Okay." I was never going to be upset with him again.

My fiancé’s first love Chloe had returned. Rumor had it she’d been overseas, treating some rare disease. I hadn’t believed it—until the day she showed up at my engagement party. And I watched as the man I’d been hopelessly in love with since I was sixteen left our party with her. “Wait for me,” Nathan said, “She is fragile. I need to make sure she is well.” He ignored me, but accompanying her to everywhere. I threw away the rings, trashed the wedding gown. When I was pale and trembling from a heart failure later. Nathan finally showed up. “Don’t you dare die on me, Emily,” His hands were shaking. His voice cracked. “We still have a wedding.”

After seven years with Luca Lorenzetti, I was finally in a wedding dress. We were at a private photography studio in Sicily that served only members of the Lorenzetti family. My best friend, Avery Conti, who'd introduced me to Luca years earlier, was trying on her bridesmaid dress nearby. The moment Avery stepped out in her custom silver gown, Luca's eyes lit up in a way I'd never seen before. Luca asked Avery to join us for a few shots. "Think of it as a keepsake from before the wedding." I stood in the middle in my wedding gown. Avery fussed with her skirt off to the side and laughed softly. "Maybe not. Standing next to Chloe in this, I'd look like an ugly duckling." Without a word, Luca walked over, pushed me aside, and gave Avery the spot right in the center. When the shutter clicked, the two of them stood shoulder to shoulder like a couple made for each other. As we looked through the photos, Luca pointed to one of the three of us. He wanted it enlarged, framed, and used as the welcome poster for our wedding. I frowned. "Avery's in the middle of our wedding poster? That doesn't seem right." Luca gave me a disapproving look. "Chloe, why are you being so difficult? If Avery hadn't introduced us, you'd never even have met me. "So what if we use one group photo? You're still the one standing at the altar with me in the end, aren't you?" I looked at myself in the photo. Even in the most expensive dress there, I looked like an outsider who'd wandered into the frame by mistake. Some places aren't yours, even when you're standing in them. If that's how it is, I don't want to be his bride anymore.

The day someone told me I was legitimate blood of the Mafia family, I went from being the Don's daughter's personal maid to being the Don's daughter myself. Three days after they brought me home to the family estate, I went looking for Luciano, the man I'd secretly married, and found him in the study, talking to Don Moretti. "Nina is obedient. She wouldn't dare utter a word even when bullied. She is the perfect person to take the fall for Avery at that bloody party and she won't crack." "Good, Luciano. You think of everything! She's nobody — a street girl. She walks into that bloodbath and dies, nobody's going to miss her. Let her go. Avery's waiting for you to make underboss first, then we do the wedding proper." I stumbled back three steps. My heel hit the marble floor and the pain shot straight up my leg, but it was nothing compared to what just exploded in my chest. I wasn't Don Moretti's real blood. And the man who had sworn his life to me, my own husband, was planning to send me into that slaughterhouse so he could marry the Don's actual daughter. I'd already heard what happened to the last stand-in at one of those events. Shot to pieces. That news drove into my spine like an ice pick. But what they didn't know, what I'd only just found out, was this: My brother, who'd been missing for years, was the highest power in the Cosa Nostra. The one they called the Shadow King.

Everyone in the Rossi family knows that their Don, Giovanni Rossi, loves me, Rebecca Costa, more than anyone else. Ever since we got together, he has stopped attending any social events that involve other women. We promised to marry once he returns from negotiating a dangerous arms deal in Aelfana. He was supposed to come back a week before the wedding, but instead, he returned on the eve of the wedding with Rosa Bianchi, his stepsister, in his arms. Rosa was unconscious, and traces of intimacy were visible on her skin. Giovanni kneeled before me, his expression remorseful. "Rebecca… I was drugged. I never meant to betray you. When Rosa threw herself at me, I thought she was you." And I believed him. At least, I did until I overheard a conversation in the changing room backstage at our wedding. One of his men asks, in disbelief, "Did you really mistake her for Rebecca?" "I did for the first night. But for the rest of the week… well, a man ought to have his bit of freedom before getting married." My fingers clench around my phone. In my inbox sits an unopened message—a marriage invitation from Angelo Calavaro, the most enigmatic Don in southern Ilya's underworld. I know what I have to do.

My husband, the Don, never acknowledged me as anything more than his political bride. From the day we married, I knew there was someone else in his heart, a woman from the slums named Elena. But for the sake of my family's honor, and for that small, pathetic scrap of love I still held onto, I endured everything in silence. Until two months ago. He came home drunk and reckless and lost all control. He kicked open my bedroom door and took me like a man possessed, and the whole time, the name he breathed into my ear wasn't mine. It was hers. But that night left something behind. I was pregnant. I thought maybe this child could be the thing that finally turned us around. So I walked to his study door, pregnancy report in hand, heart full of something dangerously close to hope. That's when I heard his voice through the door, soft and tender, speaking in a tone I had never once heard him use with me. "Don't worry, Elena. Once you have the baby, I'll bring him into the family personally. He'll be the only heir I recognize. As for Jessica..." His voice turned cold and contemptuous. "She'll never have children. For the past seven years, I've had someone slip the highest dose of birth control into the warm milk she drinks every night before bed. She's nothing but a political arrangement. Why would I let her carry my bloodline?" The door opened. He stepped out and saw me standing there, frozen. He assumed I'd do what I always did, scream and cry and demand answers. He had no idea this time was different. This time, I was really leaving.

I used to be that girl in the mafia—envied, untouchable. Orlando Leone, the big bad Don everyone feared, had eyes only for me. I took a bullet for him. After that? People whispered I couldn't have kids. He tried to shut them up by knocking me up—ninety-nine tries. Try number ten? His shiny new secretary texted, all confused over a decimal. He bailed on me. By thirty, she crashed his sports car while shopping. Claimed she couldn't park. I was left freezing in a bathtub. He said he loved me, but when it counted, he always picked the girl who played dumb and helpless. That's when it hit me—his love was never really mine. And by the time I disappeared for real, he lost his mind looking. Too bad. Me and that promise? Already buried at sea.

The Vale family was the most powerful mafia syndicate in the New York City. And I—along with a few other carefully chosen girls—had been handpicked to join their ranks, trained from the ground up so that the next head of the family could choose his wife from among us. Wife. That was the kinder word for it. The truth was whoever got picked would become his shield, his weapon, his most loyal protector. Someone who would kill for him. Die for him. Years passed. One by one, the others fell away. In the end, only Elara Quinn and I remained. And then, Elara died—killed on a secret mission. After that, there were no more choices left. I became Adrian Vale’s wife by default. I had given everything to Adrian. And I loved him. I thought he loved me too until I took a bullet to the chest—meant for him. As I lay there, barely breathing, I heard Adrian talking to his assistant, “Don’t bury her in the Vale cemetery. My half is reserved for Elara.” That was it. Elara—who had never even lived long enough to marry him—still had a space carved beside him in death. I? I had taken the hit that should have ended him… and yet I wasn’t even good enough to be buried near him. I slowly closed my eyes. And when I opened them again, I was back on the day the Vale family formally announced Adrian as their new head. The day everything began.

In my last life, while my father lay on his deathbed, he asked me to choose—inherit his title and become the Don of Vale, or marry my boyfriend, Julian Moreau, and walk away from the family business for good. Becoming the Don meant a lifetime of danger, and likely a political marriage without love. Marrying Julian promised peace. I hesitated. Next morning after the party, I woke up in bed with Julian on my left and my best friend, Sebastian, on my right. I soon found out I was pregnant. With that, I thought the better choice would be marry either Julian or Sebastian—and to give up my right to inherit, handing it to my stepsister. After my father’s funeral, Julian, Vivienne, and Sebastian locked me away and tortured me for days—until my baby and I finally met a tragic end. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the very day my father asked that question. This time, I didn’t hesitate. “I’ll break up with Julian and become the Don of Vale—on my own.”

The day before the holiday, I gave the household staff the week off. Agnes was still in the kitchen before she left, packing desserts into a bag while talking to herself with a smile. "Miss Vanessa finally got what she wanted this time. Mr. Moretti even booked that seaside villa in Amalfi." I was texting Vanessa, asking her to come over later to try on the bridesmaid dress. Without thinking much of it, I asked, "Got what?" "The wedding," Agnes said naturally. "Isn't Mr. Moretti taking Miss Vanessa to Italy?" My fingers froze above the screen. Two seconds passed before I looked up at her. "Whose wedding?" The smile on Agnes's face slowly froze. She looked at me as if she had only just realized something was wrong. "You... didn't know?" For a moment, I almost laughed at how absurd it sounded. "Agnes, Luca and I signed the family marriage registry three years ago. Next week is only supposed to be the ceremony." The kitchen fell silent. Agnes opened her mouth, embarrassment spreading across her face. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I thought you knew." She hesitated, then lowered her voice. "A while ago, when I was cleaning the study, I heard Mr. Moretti mention it to his lawyer. He said the marriage registry in your hands was never officially submitted to the family council." My heart sank. Three years ago, Luca had handed that document to me himself. He said the Moretti family was unstable, that we could not announce the marriage yet. Once he entered the inner circle of the Five Families, he would hold a proper wedding. So for all these years, I never pushed him. I even turned against the Castellano family for him. Thinking back now, maybe he had never planned to truly let me through the doors of the Moretti family in the first place.

13 years ago, I pulled Alexander Roswell out of a small town and gave him everything my family had. I helped the Roswell family's unwanted second son become the Don he is today. The day he accepted the scepter that symbolized his authority as Don, he proposed to me. He held out a diamond ring, his eyes soft. "Evelyn, I love you. Once I've dealt with the traitors, we'll get married." I thought I wouldn't have to wait long. I was wrong. He betrayed me before he could keep that promise. He took Sienna Brooks, his young new assistant, to one of my family's hospitals for a prenatal checkup. He didn't even seem to care that he was on my territory. When I arrived, he was stroking her belly and discussing baby names with her. She leaned against him, looking perfectly happy. "Darling, do you think our baby could be your heir?" Alexander said nothing, but his silence was answer enough. He was actually considering it. Pain stabbed through my chest. The report slipped from my hand and fell to the floor. It confirmed that my fifth round of IVF had failed.

At one of the exclusive private casino parties, my eyes landed on a diamond tiara. The catch? It was the prize for a high-stakes blackjack game. Luckily, poker happens to be one of my many sins. A girl named Elara—whom I once pitied enough to introduce to Throne, hoping she’d land a job—has now declared she wants the tiara too. Naïve. Probably thought beginner’s luck was a real thing. I figured, fine. Let the cards decide. If I win, I walk away with the tiara. If I lose, I’ll find another way to soothe my pride. Easy enough. Thorne, my ever-watchful husband, leaned in and murmured, “Go easy on her.” I didn’t. I won. Beat the dealer faster than her and won the tiara. That girl cried at the table. Thorne didn’t look impressed for once. He rather seemed... irritated. I thought it was for Elara’s sake. Turns out, it was for mine. A year later, same party, different stakes. The grand prize? My own sex video. While holding Elara in his arms, my husband said to me, voice almost amusing, “Don’t you like winning prizes? Then go on. Win our sex tape back.”

Four years ago, I took three bullets for my husband, Marcus DeLuca, heir to New York's most powerful mafia family. It cost me three years in a rival family's flooded cell. They interrogated me, drugged me with hallucinogens, and starved me, trying to make me reveal the DeLuca family's accounts, warehouses, and shipping routes. Three years later, I finally escaped. At the DeLuca Foundation's charity gala, everyone was talking about Rachel Bellini. The same woman I'd slapped in public years ago after she drunkenly draped herself over my husband's shoulder. "God only knows how much Marcus has spent on Rachel over the years. Now she's even got a Golden Globe nomination." "After Sarah disappeared, she moved into the DeLuca estate." "That's not all she got. She gave Marcus two kids." "But Sarah is Marcus's wife. The DeLuca family threw the biggest wedding this city had ever seen." "Oh, come on. She was abused for three years. She can't have kids anymore. Look at her." For more than 1,000 days and nights in that flooded cell, I'd believed he was tearing the city apart to find me. It turned out he'd had other things to do. Pathetic. In the middle of the ballroom, Marcus and Rachel gazed into each other's eyes. Someone shouted, "Make it official, Marcus!" Just then, the spotlight swept across me. Everyone turned to look at me, waiting for me to slap her a second time. I just raised my champagne glass and smiled. "Don't stop on my account." Then I turned and walked out of the ballroom before they could see my red, swollen eyes. I called Lily. "Last time, you said your jewelry studio in Sydney still needs a partner. I've thought it over. I'm in."

My husband is the Don of the entire New York East Coast Mafia. For ten years, I dimmed my own light to be his perfect silent partner, the dutiful wife who gave him the perfect heir. I thought we were the lovers who wou ld die for each other. Then came a mere associat. My husband and son had formed an alliance with the woman who seem want to take my place. But they just said, "Elena, you have the crown and the kingdom. She has nothing but us. Be generous." So, to make her smile, my husband trampled on my dignity again and again. To please her, my son affectionately calls her "Mom." In their eyes, I was the iron wall, the woman who would swallow any insult for the sake of the family honor. Until the fire. My husband locked me inside the burning room, to let me "reflect" on my jealousy. He didn't know that the fire didn't kill me. But it burned away the last ash of my love for him.

All I did was reach for a pastry Lila had her eye on, and my childhood sweetheart Luca, the Don's heir of Galvani family, had me thrown in the estate cellar for three days and three nights. His voice was as cold. "I've told you before, Lila is like a sister to me. Why can't you just let her be?" This time I didn't cry or beg. I just looked at him. I had been half out of my mind over this man for more than a decade. I had even slashed my own wrist in front of his father, just to force him into marrying me. Luca looked at me like he was disappointed all over again. "With a temper like yours, how could you ever be the Donna of Galvani family?" "Get down to the cellar and think about what you've done. Come back when you've come to your senses." Then, as if he couldn't quite help himself, he dropped his voice: "Look, as long as you come around and stop making Lila's life difficult, everything goes back to how it was. Okay?" I clenched my jaw. It felt like a blade pressed against my chest. "Okay," I said. Next month, the Don of the Ferrara family will marry me as his Donna. This time, I am done with Luca.