Cerita Pendek Mafia Mafia & Novel Countdown

Ilona Greco offered three years of priority shipping rights at the port in exchange for one thing. "Sterling, I want you to divorce Ophelia. Just for a month." The whole room went silent. I calmly picked up my coffee and didn't even look up. All of Sicily knew Ilona wanted my husband. But they also knew Sterling Vitale loved me almost to the point of obsession. I waited for him to explode and have her thrown out. But a few seconds later, the silence was broken by the scratch of his pen. "Deal." Ilona's red lips curled into a smile. "Excellent!" Then she raised her glass in a mocking toast to me. On the way back to the estate, I cried and begged Sterling to back out of the deal. He only frowned and wiped away my tears. "Ophelia, it's just a deal." Sterling took my hand and sighed. "Three years of priority shipping rights at the port. That's worth it." I let out a bitter laugh and didn't say anything else. That night, he had the lawyer bring the divorce papers to the study. I signed my name on the last page. Sterling collected the papers, looking pleased. Little did he know that by the time his month-long arrangement with Ilona was over, I'd be gone from this estate for good. ...

The night Enzo was made boss of the Moretti family, I gave him my virginity. He was the heir I'd been promised to since before I could speak. We kissed against the floor-to-ceiling windows, tangled in the humid, twilight heat... His rough, urgent hands hurt me, but I didn't pull away. Even the pain felt sacred, a sacrifice I was willing to make for love. Lost in the heat of the moment, he promised me a pair of the most beautiful crystal shoes, so I could dance the opening waltz with him at his coronation ceremony the next day. The first dance is always reserved for the new boss and his future bride. I cried with joy, believing my years of secret pining and patient waiting would finally culminate in a fairytale ending. But I was wrong. So terribly wrong. The next morning, I dragged my aching body out to get his favorite espresso, only to overhear the guys joking as I returned: "So you finally popped the family cherry, huh? How was Vivian on your first night as boss?" Enzo's voice was lazy, mocking. "Face of an angel, body of a devil. She's a hot little viper in bed." The room erupted in sleazy whistles. "So, you really gonna marry her, young boss?" "Are you kidding me?" Enzo scoffed. "Vivian's just a warm-up. Once I get some practice in, I'll go tame the Falcone ice princess. When I get bored, I can always circle back and put a ring on her." I stood frozen in the doorway, my vision blurring, the coffee cup trembling in my hand. Before the world faded to black, I sent a coded message to the Don: "Uncle Romano, for the promotion in three days, get me a transfer. As far away from Enzo as possible."

Before I turned eighteen, I was the adored principessa of the Moretti family. That all changed on my eighteenth birthday, when my father brought home an orphan girl named Carina. "She needs a home," my father said. "You will look after her, like a sister." From that moment on, nothing was the same. My brother, who once doted on me, became cold and distant. And my fiancé... his love for me seemed to halve overnight. The family praised Carina for being gentle and obedient, calling her a far better daughter than me, their own flesh and blood. After being cast aside for Carina one too many times, I finally broke and grabbed my father's sleeve. "Does blood mean nothing at all?" My father's fury ignited. He sheltered a tear-stricken Carina behind him, and in front of every member of the family, he struck me across the face. "You selfish waste. I wish I'd never had you." "You bring shame to this family," my brother Marco's voice was as cold as a blade. "Get out." And my fiancé, Vincent, looked at me with disappointment,"If only it had been Carina I was engaged to from the start." They thought I would grovel at their feet, like I always did. But I said nothing, just walked to the family safe, removed the official documents, and drew a single line through my name. I took the engagement ring from my finger and placed it on the table. I gave Carina everything they felt I didn't deserve. After all, I only had a few days left to live. But they had no idea then that amid the ruins of the Moretti family, they would one day kneel in the rain and plead for my return.

After a car accident leaves me with mild PTSD, my doctor says I just need time to get comfortable in cars again. But my husband, Don Alessio Valenti, takes away all my car keys, gets down on one knee, and makes me a promise. "From now on, tesoro, you have me and every driver I employ at your beck and call, day or night." For five years, Alessio treats me like a queen. I'm the envy of every woman in the Valenti family. Then Bianca Moretti returns. She's his former assistant, the woman who once took a bullet for him during a bloody power struggle within the family. On our fifth wedding anniversary, Alessio insists on taking me to a remote castle in the mountains. But halfway up a deserted mountain road, Bianca calls. He immediately pulls over, kisses my cheek, and says in a gentle but firm voice, "Sweetheart, find somewhere sheltered and wait for me. Bianca's having complications from her old injury. I need to check on her at the hospital. I'll be right back." Then he leaves me there. A blizzard sweeps through the mountains, shutting down the roads. I'm stranded in freezing temperatures, shaking so badly I can barely hold my phone. I call him as I stumble through the snow. "Don Valenti… where are you? The roads are closed. When are you coming back? I'm freezing…" "Serena, just hang in there. Bianca can barely breathe. The doctors are fighting to save her. You know I wouldn't be alive if she hadn't taken that bullet for me. "I owe her my life. The castle isn't far. Just walk the rest of the way. I'll come get you as soon as she's out of danger." He hangs up before I can say another word. I let out a bitter laugh, pulled the ring off my ring finger, and tossed it into a nearby trash can. Then I pull up a secure contact and make the call. "I accept your terms. Get me out of here within three days."

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.

For seven years, I had been the secret of Enzo Gallo, the new Don of the Gallo family. When I went to register our son Lucas's birth, I discovered Enzo had already married his sister-in-law, Camilla, and claimed her child as his own. Her child became the heir to the family, with all the privileges that entailed. My child became a shameful bastard. Years ago, after Enzo's brother died, the family elders gave Enzo one condition to become Don: he had to have an heir with his sister-in-law to secure the Gallo bloodline. That night, Enzo held me close and swore I was his only true wife. He promised that once Camilla gave birth, he would give me the wedding I deserved. But he missed Lucas's birthday the day Camilla went into labor. Instead of the wedding he promised me, all I got was the news of his marriage to his sister-in-law. My son gently wiped away my tears with his small hand: "Mamma, don't be sad. I changed my birthday wish. I don't want a Papa anymore." "I don't care about being an heir. Having you is enough." I pulled Lucas into my arms, swallowing the bitterness that rose in my throat. "Who says you aren't an heir? Baby, Mamma is taking you home. To our family." What Enzo doesn't know is that I am the only daughter of the most powerful Mafia family in Sicily. I never cared about being the Donna of the Gallo family.

I was eighteen when I left Italy for Chicago. My brother Leo handed me over to his most powerful ally for “protection.” Don Damien Volkov. His eyes locked on me the first time we met. They never looked away. By day, I was his private doctor. By night, I was the only thing in his bed. His seduction was a slow, deliberate hunt. The way his body brushed against mine during an exam. A stray kiss that landed behind my ear. The weight of his hand resting on the small of my back. I fell fast and hard for his dark charm. I gave myself to him, letting him claim me, again and again. For four years, our affair was a secret hidden in the shadows. In that time, he sculpted my body, teaching it to crave his touch, molding me into his perfect obsession. Then she came back. Isabella, his exiled ex-fiancée. He sent his private jet for her. I swallowed my pride and crashed his reunion. An hour ago, his hands, still smelling of blood, gripped my chin. He forced his kiss on me. But now, right in front of me, he was stroking another woman's hair. "Elara, you're the one who climbed into my bed four years ago." "You act like a whore, but you expect me to treat you like a Donna?" The way he looked at Isabella was so tender. The way he looked at me was pure scorn. Shame burned through me. Head down, I sent my brother a coded text. Accept the Moretti proposal. I looked up. A smile bloomed on my face. "Fine. Then this is goodbye, Damien."

My fiance, Victor Blackwood, is a mafia boss who rules the country's underworld with an iron fist. To the rest of the world, he is the epitome of power. Yet to me, he is the embodiment of love. But I do not realize the cost of loving a man like him. On Valentine's Day, I cook his favorite dishes and wait for him to come home. However, time passes, and his chair stays empty. Uneasy, I go to Queenie Stone's social media page. She is Victor's foster sister. She posts, "All I said was that I felt lonely, and he came right away. "Even when I accidentally spilled wine on him, he didn't mind. Victor is still someone who puts family first, even if it means neglecting his lover. "He never lets me down. I hope things stay that way." In the photo, Victor's shirt is soaked at the waist. Queenie's handkerchief lingers near his most private parts, but he doesn't pull away. He merely looks at her affectionately. I do not make a fuss and give Queenie's post a like. Then, I send Victor a message that reads, "Let's break up." Victor ignores it as always. Later, I discover that when my breakup message popped up, he had said offhandedly, "Vivienne can't live without me. She's just acting out. "If I ignore her for a few days, she'll come crawling back by herself. She's easy to please." What he doesn't know is that I was easy to handle only because I once loved him. But now that I have decided to leave, he cannot make me turn back, no matter how he tries to win me over.

My mafia family threw me in the slums for three years. I finally learned to obey. The day I returned, my fiancé, the Don Lucian, cornered me. By the driveway. His eyes were dark. A warning. “If you dare touch another hair on Chloe’s head, I will—” He didn’t finish. I stuck my right hand in the open car doorframe. I slammed the door on it with my left. A dull crack echoed in the cold air. My bones. He stared at my hand. Limp. Dripping blood. I used to be a violinist. These hands were my life. I didn’t even flinch. His cold, unbreakable mask. It cracked. For the first time. Back in the family estate, on the top-floor terrace. The orphan my parents adopted taunted me. “So what if you’re engaged to the Don? I’m the future Donna!” She sneered. Grabbed a brooch from the table. Slashed her own arm. Blood welled up. Then she screamed. “Seraphina! If you hate me that much, I’ll leave! Please, don’t hurt my baby!” My fiancé and my brother burst in. They saw it all. They slammed me to the ground. I couldn’t breathe. His hand was tight around my throat. “You’re hopeless!” Lucian roared. “If anything happens to Chloe or my heir, I'll put a bullet in your head myself.” I nodded obediently. I turned. Walked downstairs. Straight into the snow-covered backyard. No hesitation. I jumped. Straight into the ice-covered pool. My broken hand shattered the thin ice. The pool turned red. The freezing water swallowed me whole. My lungs filled with ice. I was choking again. My mother let out a shriek and fainted on the spot. My father, frantic, dove into the freezing water. He dragged me out. But my fiancé, the ever-cold Lucian, just stood there. Frozen. A flash of unbelievable panic crossed his face. His feet were lead. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Agony tore through me. The cold. The lack of air. I thought I was finally dying. And I smiled. The System had told me: Show absolute obedience until death. You will be rewarded with billions. And I will send you back to your real world.

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?"

My boyfriend, Don Alessandro Moretti, wanted a Donna who never got jealous. Whenever I disobeyed, he used silence to teach me my place. When he started taking his childhood sweetheart, Lucia,everywhere on his arm, I confronted him. He froze me out for a week. At one family dinner, Alessandro seated Lucia at his right hand, the place meant for his future wife. When I objected, he shut me out for two weeks. “Lucia and I are only friends. I love you, Eva.”He told me afterward. “But a Donna must be above petty jealousy.” Every time, I remembered the man I had fallen in love with and apologized first. But this time, two muggers cornered me in a parking lot. Still punishing me, Alessandro declined my call. During the twenty minutes I spent alone at the police station, I finally understood something. There was no future in twisting myself into the woman someone else wanted. I opened the offer from a leading research institute in Zurich wanted me to direct its five-year neuroprosthetics program and signed it. Alessandro thought my silence meant his lesson had finally worked. He didn’t know I had stopped trying to become the woman he wanted. I was leaving in seven days, and choosing my own life.

My boyfriend, Luca Moretti, heir to New York’s most feared mafia family, had my name removed from the college recommendation written for me. He replaced it with Bianca’s. When I called him, he didn’t even deny it. “You have perfect grades. You can get into Columbia without that letter. Bianca can’t. She has nothing else to fall back on.” He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. My grip tightened around the phone. “And if I don’t get into Columbia?” “Then you’ll go somewhere else in the city. I’ll still be here. We’ll still be together.” He said it like that settled everything. Luca had to stay in New York to inherit his father’s empire. I had promised to stay because I loved him. Somehow, that had become permission to decide how much of my future I could afford to lose. “Bianca doesn’t have anyone else,” he added. “You have me.” I looked at the MIT acceptance letter open on my laptop. “Are you listening?” Luca asked. “I’m not going anywhere.” For three years, those words would have been enough to make me forgive him. This time, I didn’t answer. I just clicked Accept Offer. “You’re right,” I said. “You’re not.” Then I hung up and booked a one-way ticket to Boston.

My mafia fiancé just got married—but I wasn't the bride. When I arrived at the wedding venue, I overheard him telling his friends to keep the whole thing under wraps, to make sure I never found out. We'd been together for five years. A year ago, Vincent got down on one knee and I said yes. Overjoyed, he pulled me into his arms and swore on everything he had that he'd make me the happiest woman alive. He promised we'd tie the knot on my birthday this year. My birthday is still a month away. And yet, here he was—walking down the aisle with his childhood sweetheart instead of me. I felt something inside me shatter. I didn't make a scene or demand an explanation. Calmly, I slipped the engagement ring off my finger. Then I booked a one-way flight out of the country. He thought I'd still be waiting. But he didn't know—my five-year deal with my family was up. Soon, I would leave him for good.

To the world, I’m the wife of Kael Voss. In truth, I’m the daughter of the Grim Reaper. I once defied death to save Kael Voss, the Mafia godfather. After ninety-nine proposals, his persistence melted my heart. I hid my divine heritage, abandoned the Underworld, and became his beloved Donna. After the marriage, he firmly kept his vows, turning our marriage into a fairytale. With our fifth wedding anniversary approaching, I wanted to get him a gift. Instead, I overheard a conversation between him and the maid, Luna. "Honey, your birthday is coming up soon. What gift do you want?" "I want you," Kael replied, his voice dripping with affection. "I want you by my side forever. I need to make sure Iris never finds out about us... and I want you to give me an heir." "Are you sure?" "Positive." Kael’s tone was unwavering. The grin slid off my face the moment I heard the answer and I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The blood drained from my face. The hope I had cherished shattered into dust. The love he had sworn to me had rotted away in just five years, leaving nothing but a hollow shell. If he no longer wanted my heart, I would take it back. The full moon rose in two days. It is time for my return to the Underworld.

"Good afternoon, ma'am. You just walked out of Boston City Hall looking absolutely radiant. Any special occasion to celebrate?" "I'm getting divorced." "I'm sorry to hear that. Would you mind telling me what happened?" "He's been bedding his late right-hand man's sister. In my art studio, on my yacht, across my private study desk, and even on the grand piano in our living room. He thought I didn't know." "I can't imagine how much this hurts. I'm so sorry for what you're going through. Where are you heading now?" "The hospital. Prenatal checkup." ... The interview went viral within hours for her calm, unflinching recounting of the betrayal and the shocking contrast between her glamorous mafia wife identity and her devastating situation. It didn't take long for netizens to dig out my identity, and the entire world now knows the woman in that video is me. Elena, Donna of the Moretti family. Three years ago, Vincenzo Moretti, the undisputed Don who ruled Boston's underworld with an iron fist, threw me a wedding that made headlines across the nation. Back then, everyone envied me, calling me the luckiest woman alive. But now? That interview had been online for nearly two days, and Vincenzo was still lost in his little love nest. By the time Vincenzo finally bothered to watch the video his men had forwarded to him, I was already in New Zealand. The whole world knew I was leaving Vincenzo Moretti. He was the last person on earth to find out.

When the marriage contract was placed in front of me, I only took a moment to read the terms, but Lucien Moretti urged me three times to sign. He was in a hurry, after all. His precious savior, Isabella, was waiting for him to take her to her favorite opera. So I picked up the pen, but I did not sign my name. I copied Isabella’s handwriting and wrote hers instead. In my last life, I had signed that contract with a heart full of hope. I thought becoming Lucien’s wife meant I would finally stand beside him as the Donna of the Moretti family. Instead, he kept me hidden after the wedding. At every public event, Isabella was the woman on his arm. Every matter that should have required the Donna’s approval went through her first. I told myself I was not strong enough yet. I swallowed every insult and was forced to give up everything that should have been mine. Until the night gunmen broke into the Moretti estate, and Lucien chose her again. He carried Isabella out in his arms while I bled out behind him. Then I opened my eyes and found myself back before the wedding contract was sealed. This time, I gave Isabella the Donna’s necklace. I gave her the wedding dress. I even signed her name on the contract meant for me. I gave up my name, and I gave him up with it.

Forty-eight hours before my wedding, I called the planner and asked her to change the bride’s name. Dante Rinaldi had postponed our wedding nine times for Bianca Valli, the girl he’d grown up with. Now she had chosen the flowers, the music, even the dress I was supposed to wear. He had promised her our first dance, too. “Are you certain?” the planner asked. “Mr. Rinaldi has finally confirmed the date.” On my laptop, beneath my name, a note read: Revise to Bianca’s preferred colors. “Then give her the rest of it.” For years, I had fitted my career around the man who ran the Rinaldi family. My transfer to our magazine’s Paris office was finally approved. This time, I would take it. Dante could keep the wedding. I had two days to leave.

The Rinaldis, the most powerful mafia family in the world, were expanding into our territory. Everyone knew what kind of people they were. Ruthless. Merciless. Any woman who married into their family was a prisoner, not a wife. Within a month of moving to New York, they demanded my twin sister Sofia as Dante Rinaldi’s bride. She was my husband Marco’s first love. She had run away on their wedding day and asked me to take her place. For five years, Marco treated me like a queen. Even after Sofia returned, he never gave her a second glance. I thought he had finally chosen me. But that night, I heard him speaking to my brother. “Have Elena take Sofia’s place in the bridal convoy. Intercept it along the way and announce that the bride was killed in the attack.” “Then Sofia can stay by my side as my Donna. I’ll never let her fall into the Rinaldis’ hands.” My brother hesitated. “What about Elena?” “Elena loves me. She’s always wanted to live by the sea. I can give her a house on a private island where she’ll be safe. As long as we stay married, I can visit her. She’ll accept it.” My sister would have my name, my home, and my place beside my husband. My parents pressed Sofia’s identification into my hand. “Your brother is bringing you back. You aren’t actually marrying Dante. Why can’t you do this for her?” No one asked whether I wanted to live the rest of my life in hiding. On the day of my departure, Marco walked me to the car. “I’ll visit once you’re settled.” I smiled and nodded without telling him that I had changed the convoy’s schedule. The next day, my brother arrived at the agreed interception point too late. He called Marco immediately. “Elena completed the handover early. She’s already inside Dante Rinaldi’s estate. We couldn’t stop her!”

After I discovered that my Mafia husband, Don Dante Amato, still couldn't let go of his first love, Bianca, and the son she had with another man, I taught our son to call him "Don Amato." When our son came down with a fever, Bianca called my husband away in the middle of the night. I stroked his burning forehead and taught him to say, "Goodbye, Don Amato." Dante had promised to present our son to the whole Amato Family at a family dinner — to formally announce him as the future heir. Yet on the night of the dinner, Bianca called, crying that her own son had no father by his side. Dante left without a second thought. I didn't argue. I just had our son stand in front of the entire Family and explain, "Don Amato has someone more important to take care of." It wasn't until Dante finally realized how disappointed we were in him that he suggested we take a family portrait together. Outside the photo studio, Bianca called again, crying for Dante's help. "Dante, the kids at daycare are making fun of Gabe for not having a dad. Can you come pick him up and pretend to be his father?" Dante looked conflicted. He turned to our son, as if about to explain everything. But this time, our son didn't need my reminder. He waved Dante off. "It's okay, Don Amato. Go take care of the other child. Mom and I will manage the family photo just fine."

After Damian abandoned Noah and me for Sofia and Luca yet again, we finally learned to stop asking. He took them to family dinners and interviews, even let Luca sit in the seat that had always belonged to Noah. I stopped arguing. So did Noah. He gave the gold pistol that marked Noah as his heir to Luca as a birthday gift, and Noah simply nodded obediently and wished Luca a happy birthday. Three days later, Noah fell down the stairs and struck his head against a step. He lost consciousness and was taken to the hospital with a mild concussion. Damian arrived after I had already spent the night outside the emergency room. “Elena, why didn’t you call me? I’m Noah’s father too.” “It’s nothing serious. He’ll be discharged after two days of observation. I knew you were busy. Noah understands.” Damian’s expression darkened. “A concussion is nothing serious? What kind of mother are you? If you’re angry with me, say it. Don’t pretend you don’t care and drag our son into it.” I nodded. “Okay. I understand.” He stared at me, probably waiting for the argument I would have started before. I didn’t. Our plane tickets were booked for five days later. Once I took Noah away from New York, none of this would matter anymore.