Mga Maiikling Kuwento at Nobelang Mafia Mafia Cheating

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.

On the day Daisy Hawthorn got married to Dario Verdant, everyone in Palermo waited for her to make a fool of herself. The Verdant family was one of the most feared mafia families in Sicily, and Dario was the only son of the old Don. Daisy, meanwhile, was just an orphan with nothing to her name. The only reason she was even associated with the Verdant family was that her late father had once saved the old Don's life during a conflict years ago. At the wedding, Dario slipped an antique diamond ring onto her finger in front of everyone. Tears filled his eyes as he swore, "Daisy, I love you. You're the only woman I'll ever love." Daisy believed him. After they got married, Dario became the new Don of the Verdant family, yet he still treated Daisy like she was the center of his world. If she coughed in the middle of the night, he would get up instantly and bring her water himself. If she casually mentioned craving seafood paella, it would appear on the dining table the very next day. Everyone said Dario loved Daisy. Daisy believed that too. It wasn't until one afternoon in May, when she overheard something outside the office of their private doctor, Martin Lawrence. "Don Verdant, birth control pills can't be taken long-term. They're damaging her body. The latest test results are back. Donna Verdant already has a hormonal imbalance. If this continues, she could become permanently infertile!" Martin exclaimed. Daisy froze in place. After a brief silence, she heard Dario's voice. "So what if she becomes infertile? I never planned on letting her have children anyway," he said nonchalantly.

Everyone in the underworld knew Daniel Taylor loved me more than anything. He was a powerful mafia Don. Yet every year, he set aside a whole month to go to the monastery of San Colombano, climb its 102 stone steps one by one, and pray for me and the child we'd lost. And I had always believed I was the happiest woman in the world. Until the day I saw the video my best friend, Talia Marino, posted on Facebook for her son Renzo's fifth birthday. In the video, Renzo kept calling out for his daddy in a singsong voice. A moment later, a pair of hands reached into the frame and picked him up. Gentle, practiced hands. But I recognized the four-leaf clover bracelet on one wrist. I'd searched the whole city to find it for Daniel. I sat in front of a warm fire, but a chill crept through me. Just then, Rosa Santos, our housekeeper, came over. She took the 4D ultrasound printout from my hand. It had already started to yellow. "Donna, are you thinking about your daughter again?" I looked up. I hadn't even noticed the tears on my face. Yes. I was thinking about her again. Today was the anniversary of her death. I closed the video and called the cemetery office at the monastery. "Hello, this is Lucia Capello. I'd like to arrange for my daughter, Emma Taylor, to be reburied..." "Of course. You'll need to submit the paperwork, and the process takes three days." When I hung up, I booked a flight to Malmö for three days later.

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.”

To the world, I was Mrs. Ward—the untouchable queen beside the mafia king of New York, Elias Ward. But I knew my husband never loved me. His heart had always belonged to Harper Dinah. His nephew’s wife. And after that nephew conveniently died, Elias brought her into our mansion, “I just want to take better care of her,” he’d said. And his version of “care” was where he’d throw a man out of a party for daring to flirt with Harper and got her pregnant. Elias likes to praise me in public like I was the perfect wife to him. And I was. I helped build his empire. I was the one who smiled and played nice. I made his casino shine while he hid Harper away like she was something sacred. Because of all that praising, one of his enemies set his sights on me. They took me. Sent Elias a message soaked in blood and threats: Back off. Leave New York. Or your pretty wife dies. Of course, Elias didn’t choose to back off.. “Just wait,” he said over the phone, “They won’t hurt you, Noa. You’re leverage. Just hold on until Harper gives birth. Then I’ll come for you.” Eight months of being held in a filthy hole, starved, beaten, degraded. The gang leader raped me over and over again. And still, Elias never came. Finally, I escaped when they were all drunk. Went home, only find my twins sleeping in the maid’s room, eating scraps while Elias was too busy hosting a party for his newborn. I didn’t confront him, just packed my babies and disappear.

The day I learned the family's secretary had been Richard's mistress for three years, I called off the wedding without a second thought. Heartsick, I took a family flight and moved out to the West Coast, only to walked straight into an ambush. When they had me surrounded, Richard appeared out of nowhere and threw himself in front of the bullet meant for me. He ordered his most trusted guards to keep me alive, whatever it cost. Dying, he stared deep into my eyes. "Elise, I have no right to ask your forgiveness. Just live. Live well, and let me love you properly in the next." The sea ran high and wild that day, and they never found his body. By the time the rescue boat pulled me out of the water, I had already cried myself hoarse. After that I lived to eighty, carrying the guilt of him every single day. Then I opened my eyes again and found myself back, before he had ever betrayed me. This time, before I could even speak, he fired Charlotte right in front of me. Apart from family business, his greatest interest was cooking dinner for me. Everyone marveled at it. The Don himself, Richard, loved Elise nearly to the point of madness. And then, the night before our wedding, I heard his thoughts. [I'm finally about to have Elise.] [This time I can't let her find out Charlotte exists.]

At my engagement ceremony, I wait for Elio Ricci to slip his family's ring onto my finger. It's the ring that will officially mark me as his Donna. Instead, in front of everyone, he takes his widowed sister-in-law Marianne Fabbri's hand and places the ring on hers. I stand there frozen. Elio barely reacts. "My brother is dead, but Marianne still needs to give the family an heir who carries our blood. Stella, just be patient a little longer. Once the baby is born, I'll make you my Donna." Everyone expects me to smile and accept it. After all, I've spent five years at Elio's side. I've swallowed every slight and endured every test just to finally earn his family's approval. What no one expects is for me to turn around, call my father, and accept the marriage alliance my family arranged for me years ago. I reclaim my family name that very night. Then I leave the city without looking back and marry the head of the most powerful crime family in North Amrea. Four years later, I return. My husband, Renato Costa, tells me he's sending someone to meet me at the harbor. I never expect that someone to be Elio. The moment he sees me, his gaze drops to the ruby ring on my finger. "Four years, and you're still obsessed with climbing your way into a better family." Elio lets out a mocking laugh. "The head of the Costa family paid five million dollars for that ring at an auction. And you actually went out and bought yourself a fake? You really haven't changed." He gestures toward the car waiting by the curb. "You've had four years to throw your little tantrum. I'd say that's long enough. Your timing is good, though. Marianne and I have a son now, and he could use a nanny." I casually sweep my curls back over my shoulder, letting my fingertips brush across the ruby. There's no reason to tell him the truth. To Renato, this ring isn't some priceless treasure. It's just another little trinket my husband buys on a whim because he thinks it'll make me smile.

I've been married to Elliot Graves, the mafia drug lord in NYC, for the past eight years. But today—on our wedding anniversary—I received a photo of him with my best friend, Lila, celebrating as if they were the ones married. And in her arms was my son, Owen. I stared at the image, then typed out two words in reply. “How perfect.” Half a hour later, Elliot stormed through the front door. His voice thundered through the hallway. “Why do you always have to be so bitchy to Lila?” Owen, my own little boy, shoved at my leg and glared. “Bad Momma,” he said. “I wish Miss Lila was my real mommy.” I didn’t flinch. I simply walked over to the drawer, pulled out the crisp stack of papers I’d long prepared, and dropped them on the table with a quiet finality. “Alright,” I said, my voice calm. “It’s all my fault. Now, can I go?”

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.

My marriage to Lucian Hawke was hailed as the most perfect union in the mafia world. As the daughter of the Sinclair family and him being the sole heir of the Hawke family, our marriage united the two most powerful mafia families in the Northeastern. I thought we were unbreakable. Then, I was diagnosed with terminal cancer. As if life couldn’t get any worse, my husband's first love returned—on the very same day. That night, the man I’d been married to for years didn’t come home. The next morning, his voice was cold, distant. Indifferent. “I’ve got the divorce papers ready. When can you come sign them?” I hesitated, struggling to steady my voice. “I’m still at the hospital.” He didn’t even pause. “I don’t care if you're on your deathbed, Elara. Come home and sign the goddamn papers.” My heart shattered, but I refused to let it show. “As you wish, Lucian.” What he didn’t know was that I was dying—literally. A week later, at my funeral, Lucian wearing a tuxedo, weeping at my grave, whispering regrets he should have voiced when I was still breathing. Ironically, my funeral day, was also his wedding day with his sweetheart. But it was too late, my love. This time, you’ll never see me again.

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.

I married Rafe Maretti—the man who owned the Maretti Casino empire. Sophisticated, ruthless, but sinfully charming. By year three of our marriage, I introduced my little sister to his nephew, Adam Moretti—twenty-five, all sharp smiles and sharper ambition. He ran the dirtier side of the family’s business—arms, drugs, the kind of trade that dripped blood and money in equal parts. I married the powerful, irresistible uncle. She married the young, dangerous nephew. It was supposed to be our fairytale. Then one day, I got kidnapped in Rafe’s casino. Snatched by a rival mafia family desperate to force Rafe to sign over one of his biggest, most profitable casinos. Except Rafe didn’t answer the phone or even notice I was gone. The kidnappers grew impatient. First, it was slaps. Then punches. Then they shattered my leg and buried a knife in my stomach. Still no word from my husband. Until finally, after what felt like a hundred unanswered calls, a single message came through. "I’m with Bianca. She’s having a stomach. Stop calling." Once the kidnappers realized I had no value, they dumped me in a rotting warehouse like discarded luggage. It was Isla, my sister, who found me. She got me out. And then the brakes failed. The car spun out. Isla went unconscious beside me. I tried calling Adam. Isla’s husband. But as soon the call went through, all I could hear was. “Leave me along. Isla, I am in the middle of something here.” When I clearly heard a woman’s voice in the back. If not for a passing stranger, Isla and me wouldn’t have made it to the hospital, let along have survived. So when I opened my eyes again, the first thing I thought was: I’m divorcing that sorry bastard. The Maretti can go to hell.

At our wedding, Don Marco DeLuca, my fiance, answers a phone call. That's when his expression changes drastically. He then looks at me, his eyes filled with pain and conflict, two of the emotions that I've never seen plaguing him before. "Lina, Fiora will be flying this afternoon. She will leave Novaris permanently. This will be our last time seeing each other. I… I need to send her off." As I rub my thumb against the diamond ring which has just gotten slotted onto my ring finger, I just gaze at Marco quietly. "Are you sure you want to go see her off?" Marco's voice is trembling at this rate. He dares not even look me in the eye. "Lina, I swear that you'll be the only woman for me from now on. We'll get married, and we'll have children together. Life will be perfect for us." After that, he turns on his heel and walks away without looking back. He doesn't see the way I've crumpled onto the floor, where a puddle of blood has formed beneath me. My papa kisses me on the forehead. "My darling principessa, are you sure you want to break up with Marco?" I close my eyes and nod in response. I don't want Marco nor this farce of a marriage contract anymore.

Everyone in the Falcone family believed that Enzo, their Don, treated me exceptionally well. Whether it was money, jewelry, or anything else I wanted, Enzo was never stingy with me. But only I knew that as long as Emily was around, I would never be his first choice. Whenever he failed to be there for me, he would make it up with money, while giving his time and attention to Emily instead. Three days before our wedding, he forgot that he was supposed to accompany me to my bridal fitting because he was too busy rushing off to be with Emily. We had met in Sardinia, and he had once promised to give me the grandest wedding there. Yet just to comfort Emily, he changed the wedding venue without hesitation. To keep Emily safe, he even brought her into our home, despite the fact that I was about to become his bride. That was when I knew that Enzo and I were truly over. This time, I didn't argue with him again. I simply canceled my own wedding plans and booked a flight out of the country. Because when that wedding took place, I would not be the bride.

My love story with my Don husband was once the model relationship for couples all across Edale. But after his sudden death, the notary informed me that I was not the first in line to inherit his estate. I froze. Christian Fuzio was an only child. His parents had long passed away. We had no children. If I wasn't the first in line, then who was? That was when the boy walked in. His face was a perfect copy of Zoe Sgotti, Christian's assistant. The boy crossed his arms and sneered. "Mrs. Fuzio, the person my father loved most in his life was my mother. Of course, most of the inheritance belongs to us." Rae… Ray… Only then did I realize that the name he had whispered on his deathbed was never mine. I lunged forward to question Ray, but he shoved me into the traffic. The moment my head slammed against the ground, darkness swallowed everything. When I opened my eyes once more… I stared at my young, strong hands. Feeling the life that I had once lost growing inside me, I finally understood that I had been given another chance. Christian, this time, I no longer wanted your fake love. I would grant the three of you all the happiness that you wanted.

"Every time we make love, I make Sera turn around. From behind, she looks the most like Luna ." My hand froze on the door handle. Through the small glass window, I stared at the face of the man I had loved for three years. He had only ever seen me as a substitute for someone else. In that moment, I felt something inside me shatter. I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I didn't burst through the door and demand an explanation. I just turned around and walked back downstairs. My legs felt strange, as if they belonged to someone else. I called Professor Lumiere and accepted her invitation to go abroad. My voice was steady. She couldn't tell that I was dying inside. Later, when Felix chased me all the way to Europe and stood in front of me with red-rimmed eyes, telling me he truly loved me— I gently pushed his hand away. "I'm sorry," I said. "I don't love you anymore."

On the day there was an assassination attempt on the Don, my husband, the head of security for the Russo family, was busy coaxing his mistress, who had lost her temper and left. I did not call him for help but used my body as a shield to protect the Don while I was eight months pregnant. In my past life, my husband left his mistress behind and came back with his team of bodyguards to save the Don after I called him for help on the phone. My husband ended up saving the Don and was rewarded by the family with a promotion, but his mistress was killed in the process. Although my husband said nothing about it, he threw me into the shark tank on the day I was in labor. I was covered in blood when I looked at him for an answer. However, all he did was stare coldly at me. "Why did you have to get me to save the Don when he had so many other bodyguards to protect him? You forced me to come back because you're a materialistic woman who only wants fame and fortune! If it weren't for your phone call, Aurora wouldn't have died! You must pay for everything she suffered!" I ended up being torn apart by sharks, and even the baby inside my belly was not spared. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day of the assassination attempt on the Don.

After I got pregnant, Severin Voss went from a ruthless Don to a devoted husband who cooked for me. He cut off all contact with Vivian Lane and banished her from Voss territory. He had never liked children, yet now he shadowed the estate's most experienced housekeeper every day, learning how to care for a baby. He even learned how to cook for an expectant mother. He had a prenatal meal plan tailored to my needs and prepared every dish himself. It was as if he'd never had anything to do with Vivian, as if we were still as close as ever. When my mother came to visit, she marveled, "There's never been a Don in all of Sicily who's such a family man. "You should consider yourself lucky to have married him. Stop dwelling on his past mistakes." I smiled and agreed, then ate the lunch Severin had made just for me. An hour later, I was rushed to a private hospital, doubled over in pain. By the time I came out of surgery, my baby was gone. Three days later, Severin returned from a business trip, looking exhausted and travel-worn. A blissful smile still lingered on his face. "Honey, I learned some new pregnancy-friendly recipes. They're even more nutritious than the old ones. If you stick to them, I know your delivery will go smoothly. "I'll start making them for you tomorrow, okay?" When I didn't respond, Severin's gaze finally dropped from my pale face to my flat stomach. In that instant, his smile vanished.

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.

My husband Dante, Don of the Moretti family, was killed in a gang crossfire. I was devastated, because the same day, I’d also found out that my IVF injection had worked. I was pregnant. The Moretti didn’t want me to spiral. So they called in Dante’s twin brother, Ash Moretti, to help around. I felt both guilty and grateful until I overheard them talking in the study. “It was Ash who died. Why would you make us tell Harper it was you?” His father asked. Dante’s voice. “I only married her because you promised me the Don’s seat.” Then Gianna’s voice. “Dante had given her a child. That alone should’ve been enough.” So. It wasn’t my husband who died. It was his brother. And my husband and his sister in law thought this was his clean exit. As he wished, I gave it to him. When the doctor told me the fetus had less than a ten percent chance of survival, I agreed to terminate. And along with reclaiming everything else I had once given the Moretti, I walked away from his life—for good.