Mafia Mafia Short Stories & Countdown Novels

Adrian Vale was the Don the whole city feared, and yet he spent three years chasing me, a girl who waited tables. Then, the night before our wedding, my best friend Nina Ashford and I were taken at the same time. With the cold muzzle of a gun against my forehead, I cried out, my voice shaking, “Let Nina go! She’s innocent!” The kidnapper laughed like I’d told a joke. “Innocent? She’s worth a hell of a lot more than you.” My whole body went rigid. The next second he leaned down to my ear, his smile pure malice. “You really think Adrian’s marrying you because he loves you?” “The day you tried on your wedding dress, he was fucking Nina on your bed.” “And that black ring, the one that stands for the Don’s power? He put it on Nina’s finger a long time ago.” I shook my head, over and over, refusing to believe it. But the kidnapper had already stopped looking at me. He dialed Adrian’s number. “Mr. Vale, you need to make a choice. Your bride, or Miss Ashford. Only one of them walks out of here alive.” “Which one do you choose?” In that instant, I forgot how to breathe. On the other end, Adrian was quiet for only a few seconds. Then he said it, perfectly calm. “Let Nina go.”

The moment Victor knelt to propose to me, a stream of floating comments flickered across my vision. [LMAO. The villainess actually thinks the male lead has fallen for her.] [Gotta hand it to the male lead, a truly devoted Don. He's gritting his teeth and marrying the villainess just to protect the heroine.] [I wanna fast-forward to the part where the heroine is safe and the villainess gets dumped by the male lead.] My breath caught hard. Winning Victor 's true love was the mission the system assigned me after I awakened. Ten years since we met. Seven of them I spent chasing him. All this time, I thought he had finally fallen in love with me. I looked down at the seven-carat pink diamond ring in Victor's hand, and my eyes went hot. I closed my eyes and said softly, "Victor, I won't marry you." With that, I turned and walked away. The next second, a sharp system warning blared inside my head. "Host, mission failed. You will be erased in forty-eight hours."

The private jet touched down in Solverno well past midnight. Behind me, an explosion rattled the terminal windows hard enough to make the glass shudder. Three days earlier, my husband, Damiano Salvato, had flown to Solverno to negotiate a deal. The city was now caught in crossfire, and his phone did not connect no matter how many times I tried. I dialed his Underboss, Enzo Conti, with shaking hands. The line rang for a long time before he picked up. His voice sounded strained. "Y-You're really in Solverno right now?" Another explosion hit, and the panic in my chest tightened another notch. "Where is Damiano? Which zone is he in?" The line went quiet for a moment before Enzo answered, almost reluctantly. "He never left Havenport." A second later, a photo flashed across my screen. Damiano was underwater with a woman, the two of them tangled together, laughing. I recognized her immediately. It was Valeria Caine. Three years ago, Damiano had stood before every Capo in the family and sworn he would never see that woman again. He had probably forgotten that today was our third wedding anniversary. "Signora Salvato, the truth is... they never stopped seeing each other. But the Don has treated you so well all these years that no one dared say a word." On the other end of the line, Enzo's voice trailed off into nothing. I looked down at the unsent message still sitting in the text box, the six words I had typed out for him. "I'm coming to bring you home." The cursor kept blinking. If that was how things stood, then there was no reason to keep waiting for him.

Luca Moretti was the heir to the Moretti family, and my childhood sweetheart, the boy I had loved for five years. He always said I would be his wife once he took over the family. Then one night, with his arms still around me, he asked for another woman’s number. “Bella, we’re going to get married sooner or later.” “But do you really expect me to spend the rest of my life with only one woman?” “I won’t let anyone touch the position of Mrs. Moretti. You’re smart enough not to make trouble over this.” That was when I finally understood. He wanted my loyalty, my patience, and my silence. But he had never planned to give me the same. The day I moved out of his house, Luca blocked the door. “We’re not over. I can have fun, and so can you. Why are you acting like this?” I picked up my suitcase. “No.” “I’m traditional.” Later, when he finally came back for me, his eyes bloodshot and his voice breaking as he begged me to give him one last chance, I looked at the ring on my finger and smiled. “Sorry.” “I don’t take back what someone else only remembers after letting go.”

Two days before our wedding, my fiancé called it off for his childhood sweetheart, postponing everything by ten days. He sighed, "Daisy told me that day happens to be her birthday party. It's her first birthday since she lost her husband, so I can't miss it, or she'd be devastated. Elena, we're going to get married. What difference does a week earlier or later make?" This was the third time he had canceled our wedding for Daisy. The first time, Daisy claimed she was suffering from severe depression, and he dropped everything to rush to her side. He stayed with her for a whole week. The second time, Daisy said she wanted to see the northern lights. He was terrified she might travel alone in that fragile state, so he went with her. They were gone for ten days. And now this was the third. But unlike all the other times, I didn't argue with him. I didn't raise my voice or throw a single accusatory word his way. He thought I was a helpless orphan who'd never leave him. He had no idea that I was the princess of Rossi family, a powerful mafia family. To hide my identity and marry a man outside our world, I had made a three‑month wager with my father—a gamble that I could build a normal life and marry on my own terms. But I had lost. My fiancé still thought this was just another postponement. He didn't know that there would be no next time.

"Mrs. Blackwood, everything has been arranged for the identity-erasure operation you commissioned. This is the final agreement. Please sign here." I lowered my eyes to the document that had been placed in front of me. Client: Elena Blackwood Execution Plan: Explosion at a harbor warehouse. Vehicle destroyed by fire. Death confirmed through DNA identification. Execution Date: One week from today. One week later would be the fifth anniversary of my marriage to Damian Blackwood. It would also be the day I disappeared from the Blackwood family forever. Our story began on that date. And it would end on that date as well.

My husband was the Don of the DeLuca Family. As his Donna, I had spent years tolerating his indulgence of his stepsister. That was, until My five-year-old son and my husband's beloved stepsister were strapped to ticking time bombs. My terrified little boy screamed for me. As the DeLuca Family's lead bomb disposal expert, I knew I could save him. But my husband Matteo, the Don who ruled a mafia empire, pressed a cold gun barrel between my eyes. "Disarm Lilia's bomb first, or I'll shoot our son myself." He gave the order without a flicker of emotion, all to protect the stepsister who had perfected the helpless-innocent act. I could only watch as Noah vanished in a ball of fire. But Matteo forgot something. I wasn't merely his wife. I was the intelligence and explosives expert who kept his entire weapons empire alive. When I ripped his precious Family out by the roots and returned on the arm of his greatest enemy, the untouchable Don finally broke. He dropped to his knees and begged me to come back.

On our fourth anniversary, Renzo Romano, my boyfriend, who happens to be the Don of the Romano famiglia, personally comes to pick me up and take me back to the manor. Noticing the 99 red roses in the back seat of the car, I naively think he's finally going to propose to me. The villa's decorated in a romantic fashion, filled with scores of our friends. My heart hammers against my ribcage, and I'm about to say "I do" when I see him hand the bouquet of roses to his childhood sweetheart, Simona Visconti. Fireworks light up the sky outside the window, while drones form Simona's name above us. "Happy birthday, Mona!" My mind goes completely blank, and I freeze in place. "Are you throwing her a birthday party?" Renzo, who's busy presenting Simona with her birthday gift, casually responds, "Yeah. Mona just returned from abroad. We didn’t have time to make arrangements, so I decided to hold her birthday party at the manor." The very next second, he notices my pale face, and a hint of confusion flashes through his eyes. "What's wrong? Is there some other special occasion today?" He vividly remembers his childhood sweetheart's birthday, yet he doesn’t remember our anniversary. I compose myself and plaster an elegant and graceful smile on my face. "It's nothing. I hope she has a happy birthday." Right after saying that, I lower my head and book a flight on my phone for three days from now. Since he doesn't care about me, there's no reason for me to care about him either. It's about time I dump him.

After my fiancé Aiden Reynolds inherited his deceased twin brother's position as Don, he proposed a "split arrangement" to me. His time would be divided in half—Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays belonged to me; Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays he'd spend pretending to be his brother, keeping my sister-in-law Juniper company. The goal? To make sure Juniper safely delivered the Reynolds Family's first heir. So during that time, no matter how passionately Aiden and I tangled in bed, the moment the clock struck midnight, he'd pull away without a second's hesitation. Even when my fever spiked to 104 degrees, if it fell on a Tuesday, Thursday, or Saturday, Aiden would only say flatly: "It's Juniper's day. Call a doctor. Don't call me." When I was kidnapped by our enemies and dialed his number with trembling hands— All I got was his cold voice, "Stop being dramatic, be good. I promise you, once Juniper has the baby safely, I'll tell her the truth. After that, I'll throw you the grandest wedding and announce you as my one and only Donna." The line went dead. In that moment, something inside me died for good. What Aiden never knew was that I never gave a damn about being Donna. I was the only daughter of the Richardson Family's Don, the biggest Mafia family in Sicily. All I ever wanted was a man who loved me with his whole heart.

At my engagement party to Matthew, the Don of the Gambino family, he said he had business to handle. Two hours later, he still wasn't back. I went to look for him. Around the corner of the hallway, his men were whispering in Sicilian dialect. "Poor thing. The future Donna has no idea Don's been screwing Ruth." "The Don's out of his mind. Can't even keep it together on his engagement night." Ruth Martin. His childhood friend. His business partner. I stood there, frozen. Then I walked back to the ballroom. A while later, Matthew pushed through the door. One button missing from his shirt. Sweat on his forehead. Someone clapped his shoulder, asked in Sicilian. "Ha! So? How was it with Ruth? Fucking intense, right? You're a madman." Matthew laughed and answered. "Of course. Couldn't get enough." What Matthew didn't know—I used to be Sicilian. I understood every word. What he also didn't know—I was about to tell him I was carrying his child. I took a sip of my juice. Didn't call him out. Instead, I pulled out my phone and opened the confirmation from the lab in Paris. Hit Confirm. Seven days from now, I'd be on a flight to Paris. Gone from his world for good.

On my wedding day, I slept for six hours inside my own dressing room. By the time I reached the DeLuca family chapel in the Hudson Valley, Matteo had already completed the entire ceremony with his childhood friend, Sofia Rinaldi, the daughter of one of the DeLucas’ oldest allied families. She wore the gown I had spent six months designing and the pearl tiara passed down through generations of DeLuca women. Allies from New York, Chicago, and Sicily had witnessed everything. No one had saved a place for the real bride. Matteo looked at my pale face and explained calmly. “Sofia put the sedative in your tea. She only wanted one wedding. The dose was small, so there is no reason to make this into something bigger.” Everyone waited for me to cause a scene. I only let out a quiet sigh and looked at Matteo with disappointment. My family had given me one final chance to marry for love. Now that the wedding had failed, I had to return to Sicily, obey their decision, and inherit the family.

On our fourth anniversary, my boyfriend, the Don, took my sister and me to an exclusive private restaurant. The restaurant manager bowed. “The usual private dining room?” The room had already been scented with Rosalie’s favorite white tea. Her steak medium-rare, no truffle in the sauce. The first oyster went to Rosalie. So did the last. I was given an extra chair by the door, without even a menu. After dessert, the manager opened a cellar ledger. “Today marks three years since you opened a cellar account with Miss Sinclair. Your commemorative case is ready.” The mahogany case bore an inscription: Dante and Rosalie. Forever inseparable. It was dated three years earlier. That night, Dante left my hospital room for two hours on my birthday, claiming family business. He had come here instead. Rosalie traced the words. “After you marry Vivienne, will we still come every month?” Dante refilled her glass. “Of course. I’ve looked after you for ten years. Vivienne will adjust.” On the way home, Rosalie took the Visconti Donna’s seat without hesitation. I let out a bitter laugh and booked a one-way ticket to London three days later. The two of them could keep the future they had built over ten years. I would never be his Donna.

My sister Sienna was brutally abused by her mob husband, so my boyfriend Chase and I ripped her out of that hell. Sienna's therapist warned us that she shouldn't be left alone. From that day on, Sienna lived under our protection. I took care of her, catering to her every need. But Chase never stopped complaining that I'd forgotten I even had a boyfriend. Three months later, returning early from an overseas contract, they picked me up at the airport. I found a lipstick in Chase's car that wasn't mine. He dodged my eyes and refused to confess. I called off the relationship on the spot and turned to my sister. "Get out of the car, Sienna. We're leaving." But Sienna ignored my hand, walked right past me, and stood directly by Chase's side. Turns out my boyfriend's secrect girl was my dear sister. Without any hesitation, I accepted the invitation from the Romano Family. If that’s their choice, I’m boarding a plane to Sicily in seven days.

After losing my unborn baby, I finally rid myself of every habit Matteo Cassano hated. He spent entire nights with Seraphina. I stopped calling. He didn’t go home for several days, I stopped waiting. Even when I fractured my leg in a car crash, I simply told the doctor, "Don’t let him know." Yet, Matteo began to feel uncomfortable with my changes. He hated my composure, asking why I had turned so indifferent. I never told him that I had already filed for divorce, and accepted the invitation to a top-secret medical research project in Zurich. In seven days, I would cut off all communication with the outside world completely. Matteo assumed I was merely throwing a fit. He was confident that I would return to him sooner or later, just as I had countless times before. When the divorce decree arrived at the Cassano Manor, he finally realized I had taken everything with me and canceled all my contact info. The woman who once wept for him if he was even an hour late coming home would never look back at him again.

Dominic De Luca always called me by his ex-girlfriend's name. When he cooked, he would call out from the kitchen without thinking: "Bianca, come set the table." The birthday gifts he gave me came with cards that read: "Happy Birthday to my love, Bianca." At first, I used to get angry. I would hold his face, make him look me in the eye, and correct him over and over: "My name is Clara, not Bianca." Every time, he would apologize, and every time, I would forgive him. I left Boston to be with him. I gave up a promotion and moved to New York to start over, because Dominic said he could not handle a long-distance relationship. I thought that meant he had finally chosen me. Until the night he got down on one knee to propose. He looked up at me and said: "Bianca, will you marry me?" That was the moment I stopped wanting to correct him. I just took out my phone and replied to an email I had ignored for an entire month. I accepted the position in London. Dominic did not know yet. The moment he put my engagement ring on Bianca's finger, I had already decided to resign and leave New York. This time, I would not wait for him to explain. By the time he finally learned to say my name correctly, I would no longer love him.

Five years ago, I threw myself in front of a bullet meant for my husband and lost my hearing in the process. Nico Marchetti learned sign language, held my hand through every doctor's appointment and swore he would protect me for the rest of his life. On the night I discovered his betrayal, he sat across from me at a dinner table surrounded by his capos and smiled, "Giulia is the only woman I love. But I hide it well because if she ever found out about Valentina, she'd leave me."  Then he carved his steak and placed it on my plate like a devoted husband. What he didn't know was that I had regained my hearing exactly seven days earlier. I had already contacted the Benedetti family. I had already arranged my escape to Sicily. All I had to do was wait seven more days. Then I disappeared from Nico Marchetti's life forever.

While my entire family was helping my adopted sister try on wedding gowns, the doctor told me I had almost no time left. I held my terminal stomach cancer diagnosis and sent one message to the Moretti family group chat. “If I were dying, would any of you miss me?” Three minutes later, my parents replied. “You would lie about having cancer just to ruin Bianca’s wedding?” “Enough. The Moretti family has no daughter who tells lies like this.” My brother called, already irritated. “Bianca’s father died taking a bullet for me. No one will ever walk her down the aisle. She only wants to experience one wedding. Why can’t you let this go?” My childhood sweetheart and fiancé, Adrian Vitale, never answered. He was kneeling in front of Bianca, gently arranging the skirt of my wedding gown. Seven days earlier, my family had decided to give her my wedding. I stood there for a long time before signing the body donation papers. My parents and brother could choose her. My fiancé could choose her too. This time, I would fight for nothing.

After I rejected my ex-boyfriend’s proposal, he left New York in a rage and went to Sicily. Seven years later, Santino Moretti returned as the most feared Don of the Moretti family, with a new woman at his side and plans to marry her in the very church we had once chosen for our own wedding. That same day, my doctor told me my cancer was completely out of control. I had less than a month left. When Santino came to my mother’s house with his fiancée, he saw me sitting in a wheelchair. Something in his eyes changed for a split second before he looked away. “Seven years, Elena. What happened? Did you forget how to walk?” I tugged my sleeve lower, hiding the needle marks covering the back of my hand. “I fell. That’s all.” He believed me. Then Sofia smiled and asked if I would help them prepare for the wedding, including the church we had once chosen together. Everyone expected me to refuse. Instead, I agreed. Santino thought I had finally moved on enough to watch him marry another woman. He didn’t know I had already signed my discharge papers after my doctors told me there was nothing more they could do. I had come home because I wanted to see him one last time. I probably would not live long enough to see him stand at the altar.

My mother, Elena, was a System host. After completing her mission, she left this world, leaving me in the care of my four adoptive fathers in the mafia. Dad Theodore was the cold-blooded Don of the Family, the man who ruled this city's underworld. Dad Harrison was a movie star, the darling of the red carpet. Dad Gabriel was a top surgeon in the underground medical network; his hands could save a life as easily as they could take one. And Dad Zane was a ruthless mercenary leader. For sixteen years, these four fathers spoiled me like the Family's one and only princess. If I wanted the moon, they would have found a way to pluck it from the sky. That was, until three years ago, when Zoe, the daughter of their first love, was brought back from Sicily. From that day on, my four fathers believed only her, never me. Zoe framed me, claiming I'd mocked her for looking like a street rat, so my fathers kicked me out of the princess suite and threw me into a storage room by the garage. Zoe showed them fake bruises on her arms, so my adoptive fathers smashed my phone, cut off all my social connections, and put me under house arrest for three months. Zoe cried again, claiming I'd hired thugs to harass her, so Dad Zane dragged me straight to the Family's dungeon beneath the estate. They starved me for three days and three nights, saying it was to teach me "some manners." I leaned against the dark, damp wall, my vision fading to black in waves. Just as I was about to pass out, I heard someone call my name. "Hazel, do you want to go to your mother?"

Five years after my younger brother Luca and my fiancée Elena were killed in an ambush, I arranged my own burial at sea. I was pressing the engraved nameplate onto my custom urn when my father, Don Salvatore Leo, walked into the room with a cigar between his lips. "Antonio, you don't need to go to the docks to mourn them this year. They're not dead." My fingers went white around the nameplate. Then the hidden door in the safe room opened from the inside. Luca walked out with Elena in his arms, casually spinning the emerald ring I had once given her around his finger. "I won the bet," he said, lazy about it. "I told you we could live right next door to him for five years and he'd never figure it out." Then he leaned toward Elena, pitching his voice so it landed exactly where he wanted it. "So tell me. The family heir's seat should be mine now, shouldn't it? Hm?" The woman who had once cried over me and sworn she would marry me, after I took a bullet for Luca and was sent onto the operating table, now rested coldly against his chest. She looked at me with disgust. "He was just stupid. He really believed we were dead." So the safe room connected straight through to the house next door. No wonder my father had used the excuse of reinforcing it to keep me out all these years. I really had been a fool. Right up to the end, I was still thinking about what flowers to bring to the water for them.