Mafia Mafia 단편 소설 & Countdown 소설

When my stepsister took my bedroom, my birthday party, and the sewing case my mother had left me, my father told me to be generous. A Moretti daughter could afford it, he said. My brother and Luca took me to a bakery that night. Between them, they bought the biggest strawberry cake in the window. “You still have us,” Luca promised. For nine years, I believed him. Then, just before our wedding, Matteo bought back my mother's missing pendant, and Luca found the bridal coat she'd made for me before she died. I thought they understood what those things meant. Until Valentina came downstairs wearing both. “I only wanted to see how it felt,” she said, her eyes filling. “I've never really belonged here.” My brother stepped between us before I could speak. Luca reached for my hand, already preparing to ask me to be kind. “You're going to be my wife, Emilia. She just needs to feel safe.” He loved me. I knew that. What I no longer knew was whether being loved by him would ever mean being chosen when it mattered. That evening, I canceled the wedding and accepted a job at my mother's struggling couture house in Paris. By the time the future Don came looking for his bride, I had returned the family ring—and left him no wedding to save.

I was operating on my husband, Don Cassius Vitelli, when I removed a bullet lodged less than an inch from his heart. He'd refused general anesthesia just so he could stay on the phone with his childhood sweetheart, Mia Russo. He'd insisted on local anesthesia instead. "Stitch faster," he ordered, gripping his phone and fighting not to tremble. Watching him wince in pain, I fought to keep my nerves in check as I pulled out a document and slid it in front of him. "It's a consent form for your post-op medication. Standard procedure." I looked at him. "Sign it, and I'll take care of the rest." Cassius didn't hesitate for a second. Cassius had fought his way to the top and he trusted no one. He normally double-checked everything, down to the supply lists. But he was so focused on Mia's soft breathing over the phone that he signed the document without even looking at it. He had no idea he'd just signed divorce papers. I'd followed him for seven years. For three of them, I'd been his secret wife, the woman he could never show to the world. In 15 days, I would finally be free.

As my puppy accidentally tore up my marriage certificate, I went to the related register to get a replacement. Having checked the information, the clerk looked at me with a complex expression: "Sorry, the certificate is fake.” I was astonished: "That's impossible. We’re going to have a wedding ceremony next week.” The clerk sighed and turned the computer screen toward me: "Please look. Your ‘husband’ Leon Romano obtained a marriage certificate with Amy Smith two weeks ago." I stood frozen. Amy was Romano’s childhood friend. Feeling betrayed and deeply hurt, I rushed straight to Romano’s office to get a clear answer. Faced with my rage and questioning, Romano hugged me from the back and comforted me: “All of Amy’s family members gave their lives to protect me. The enemies are still looking for an opportunity to assassinate her.” “Only by registering her as my wife can I protect her as Don Romano.” In his embrace, I only found his words disgusting. Romano pressed a soft kiss on my cheek: “Don’t worry, sweetheart. The wedding ceremony still belongs to you. You will always be the Donna and enjoy the respect from everyone.” He still wanted me to manage a Family that I was not legally related to at all. Overwhelmed by grief, I tried to hold my tears. It was time to drop the curtain of the eight-year relationship with him. I returned to my own Family and told my father: “I am willing to accept the marriage alliance.”

I had four days left before the poison consumed my organs entirely. All I wanted was to spend whatever time I had left with the woman I loved, but I could not reach her. The next day, I learned that Enzo Marchetti, the first love she had never forgotten, had returned from overseas. "Let's get divorced. The love of my life is back." I clutched my chest as a searing pain tore through it. "I'm at the family hospital. I've been poisoned. The doctors won't let me leave.” Her voice turned sharp and cruel. "I don't care if you're poisoned or dying. Even if you drop dead the next second, you need to come back and sign the papers." The last trace of warmth inside me went cold. I answered calmly, "Fine." She would never understand that this concession was the final surrender of a man counting down the days to his own death. The poison was already devouring my body. I was truly dying. In the end, my funeral and her wedding were held on the same day.

On the day I'm supposed to try on my wedding dress, Don Aldo Vitale gets the time wrong again. By the time he finally gets to the bridal boutique, I have already chosen my dress. Just like always, Aldo apologizes without thinking. "I've been really busy lately. I hope you understand." But over the past few years, Aldo's taken his childhood sweetheart and assistant, Isabella Berardi, to more than 100 cities for business. He's never forgotten a single flight, meeting, or business dinner. In contrast, Aldo's always forgetting things when it comes to me. I calmly hand the wedding dress back to the sales associate. "It's fine. My friend already helped me pick out a dress. No point in coming here for nothing." Aldo lets out a sigh of relief, but he still looks a little uneasy. After all, everyone knows me as his clingy girlfriend who can't live without him. In the past, I would have been clinging to him, sobbing and throwing a fit out of jealousy. Aldo holds me in his arms. "Babe, you're really starting to act like the perfect wife. I heard from the butler that you went on a trip. Where did you go?" "I went to Sirdon." I calmly pull away from him. "I went there while you were on the flight to Dubmont." Aldo freezes. One of the things Aldo promises is to take me to the City of Light when he first tells me he loves me. He's always saying he'll take me there when he gets the chance. Three years go by. Then four. Even after getting engaged, he keeps putting it off, always using work as an excuse. Then, Aldo takes Isabella to a new city for another business trip. I've been with Aldo for five years. I suddenly grow tired of waiting for him. If he can't keep the promises he's made to me, I'll fulfill them myself.

On my twentieth birthday, my father presented me with courtship gifts from the heirs of allied families. I had grown up with these men, and he told me to choose one to marry. I calmly shook my head and rejected them all. In my previous life, I chose Gabriel, the man I loved the most. Shortly after our wedding, I became pregnant with his child. But from then on, Gabriel became a completely different person. Whenever I handled family business, he publicly dismissed my decisions. Whenever I secured control of crucial West Coast ports, he outright overturned my agreements. Whenever I wanted to promote loyal members, he accused me of being too soft and a poor judge of character. Gradually, everyone began to see me as just a fragile trophy wife who depended on a man. Until one day, I walked in on him drinking and laughing with a few mafia heirs in an exclusive club. "Gabriel took the biggest hit for us. He pretended to like Kiara all these years and had to humor her every day." "It was worth it. Once she got pregnant, she had no energy left to run the family." "Once her sister Mila wins over the capos, the entire family will belong to her." Fueled by despair and anger, I went into premature labor and bled to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of my engagement. My father placed those gifts representing power and marriage in front of me once again. "Have you made up your mind? Which one will you choose?" I looked at the diamond necklaces, custom gown catalogs, and limited-edition perfumes in the boxes, and smiled softly. "None of them." "I heard our business on the West Coast took a hit. I want to go there, expand our territory, and put our family back on top." This time, I will personally take back everything that belongs to me. I just did not expect that Gabriel had returned to the past too.

Everyone knew Andre Marino as the Don who kept business separate from his personal life. I couldn't call him unless it was business. If someone wronged me, I couldn't ask him to step in. We'd been together for five years. He'd taken a bullet for me. When we were trapped with no way out, he'd given up his chance at rescue so I could get out. He'd done everything a man could do for someone he trusted with his life. But I couldn't walk in and out of his study as I pleased. Every time I needed him, I had to wait outside the door for a long time. Andre said the study was his private space, and he had to keep things above board. I had to wait at the door for a full hour so everyone could see he wasn't playing favorites. Only then could I knock and go in. Then one day, I came back from picking up a shipment and stood outside his study, waiting to report in. The wind had turned my nose bright red. His second-in-command, Nora Russo, walked straight in, wearing his trench coat. She glanced back at me and said casually, "Annie, don't blame the Don for not letting you come and go as you please. He's big on rules. Business is business. Personal matters stay out of it." "Then why can you come and go?" I demanded. Nora twisted her family signet ring on her ring finger, a knowing look in her eyes. "Our families go way back. We've always been allies, always fought side by side. He's even got my last name tattooed on his chest." One of the men behind me gave a fake cough. She scoffed. "What? Am I wrong? She has no say in the business, and on the personal side, she can't even get through his door. Other than taking care of Andre's needs in bed, what good is she?" The door opened. It was obvious Nora had made herself at home. Pink, the color he hated most, now covered every wall. I stood frozen for a long time. Then, slowly, I let the question drop. If he couldn't give me the love I wanted, I knew what to do. I'd go to the man who was willing to make an exception for me.

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.

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.

I took a bullet meant for my uncle, Don Matteo Doria. His mother, Maria Doria, was so moved by what I'd done that she suggested I marry Matteo. But when I woke in the ICU, I learned he was about to get engaged to a young starlet, Claire Russo. When I showed up at their engagement party, every guest expected me to cause a scene. After all, I was the girl the Doria family had spoiled rotten. Matteo ordered his men to protect Claire, then pointed his gun at me. "Vivian, Claire is my old friend's daughter. I won't let you hurt her." Instead, I handed Claire a gift. "I was immature before. This is a little welcome gift for you, Claire." The room went dead silent. Matteo slowly lowered his gun, his eyes full of surprise. I smiled at Matteo and pretended I was fine, even as the pain tore at my heart. "Since you're marrying someone else, give me back the necklace my father left me. "From now on, I'll stay out of your life." In my last life, I caused a huge scene at the engagement party and used Maria's promise to force Matteo to marry me. Without his protection, Claire was murdered by people who were after her parents' inheritance. For the next three years, Matteo kept me locked away on his empty estate while he drowned in grief over Claire's death. Even when I got into a car accident on the way to the hospital and lost the baby, he never came to see me once. Now that I'd been given a second chance, I knew better. I would never chase after Matteo's love again.

In the seventh year of our relationship, Luca Valdieri received his twelfth late-night call from Sofia Bellini, his personal assistant. She had ended another relationship and claimed she could not breathe or remain alone. Luca immediately reached for his coat. In the past, I would have blocked the door and demanded that he choose between us. That night, I endured the pain twisting through my stomach and placed his car keys in his hand. “Go. She needs you.” Luca believed I had finally grown generous enough to stop minding the attention he gave his subordinate. He did not know I had recorded every time he abandoned me for Sofia. The first time, he missed my birthday. The fifth, he gave her my seat at a family dinner. The eleventh, he added her name to negotiations I had spent months completing. Tonight was the twelfth and final time. I had already surrendered my access to the Valdieri organization and accepted a position with an international risk management firm in London. My visa, flight, and legal documents were ready. The next afternoon, I would leave the city. By the time Luca realized I was gone, he would have no way to bring me back.

In my five years with Cassian, the question I asked the most was, "Are you listening?" As the syndicate's heir, he always had an earpiece in, constantly buzzing with reports from the territories. I asked if he could go furniture shopping with me this weekend. He didn't even look up. "Sure." I told him I was out of allergy meds and wanted him to come to the pharmacy with me. He just replied, "Sure." But when I got dressed and waited in the foyer for a full half hour, he walked over and frowned. "It's late. Where are you going?" There were times I'd tear up and reach out to yank that thing out of his ear. He'd just pull me close and kiss the corner of my mouth. "I didn't catch that. I'm sorry, baby. I'll listen to you from now on." Over time, I spoke less and less. He loved that, always bragging to his men about how understanding I was. Then came a dinner party at the club. A finger was still pressed to his earpiece as he listened to the North Side's numbers. Across the long table, his assistant, Paige, was being pressured to drink by a few made men. She barely got three words out. "I'm a little..." Cassian suddenly looked up and pulled out his earpiece. "Since when do we pressure women to drink to prove a point?" The noisy private room fell silent. He strode over, snatched the wine glass from Paige's hand, and replaced it with a club soda on the rocks. His voice was low and gentle. "Put it down if you don't want it. With me here, no one will touch you." He could hear the words others never even spoke. He just could never hear what I was saying. After the party, I looked at him. "Cassian, let's break up." He was looking down at the ledger in his hands and absentmindedly reached out to rub the back of my neck. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you want." This time, I didn't reach for his earpiece. I quietly turned around, walked back to the bedroom, and started packing my bags.

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.

In my first life, I was finally brought back to the Moretti family as their biological daughter. Then Sofia—the girl they had raised for twenty-six years—died. From that day on, I became the person they blamed. They never threw me out. They simply spent the next ten years making sure I understood that I could have the Moretti name, their blood, and their inheritance—but I would never be the daughter they truly loved. Then our yacht sank. My parents gave me the last life ring. My brother pushed me toward shore until the freezing water took the strength from his body. Before they died, they finally told me the truth. “If we had never brought you back, Sofia would still be alive.” “If there’s a next life, don’t come looking for us again.” I died in that ocean too. When I opened my eyes, I was back seven days before the Moretti family officially recognized me This time, I didn’t go home. I signed the North Star Project agreement instead. In seven days, my identity would be erased from every public system, and I would disappear for at least ten years. My parents were still preparing my recognition banquet. My brother still thought I was only angry. None of them knew I had decided to grant their final wish from our last life. Sofia could remain their only daughter. And I would disappear from their lives completely. Seven days later, a car carrying my identity plunged off a cliff. By midnight, the news was everywhere. Dr. Elena Hale was presumed dead.

Someone had posted a private video on the dark web of the underground world. In the video, a naked woman was sitting on top of a man. The comment section was flooded with messages: “So fucking hot. She’s unbelievably sexy.” My gaze swept across the man’s body, and in that instant, I felt as if lightning had struck me. A black ring glinted on his hand, which was wrapped around the woman's waist. It was the wedding ring my husband Edward, the Don of the Family , and I had designed together.

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."

The plane touched down in Tripoli at dusk. Behind me, the sky was on fire. I pulled out my phone and typed a message to my husband, Don Vito Hart. [I'm here. I came to bring you home.] No reply. I called his underboss, Enzo Stark. His voice was hesitant. "You… you really went to Libya?" An explosion rattled the terminal windows. My heart slammed against my ribs. "Which district is he in?" A long pause. Then, quieter: "He never left the country." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "The business trip… it was a lie." The line went dead. A photo appeared on my screen. Time-stamped today. Vito was smiling. Bright, but something behind his eyes looked tired. His arm was wrapped around a woman. They were blowing out candles on a birthday cake. I recognized her instantly. Rosa Quinn. The woman he'd knelt and sworn on his mother's grave never to see again. Three years ago. I still had the scar on my own palm where I'd made him swear. Vito had forgotten. Today was my birthday too. My phone buzzed again. "Sera, the truth is—the Don never ended things with Rosa. We all knew. But you two seemed so happy… no one dared tell you." I read the message twice. Then I slipped the phone into my pocket. There was no need to pretend anymore.

The year I turned 20, Vincenzo Romano, the Don of the Romano family, suddenly confessed his feelings for me beneath the August meteor shower. He said he'd secretly loved me for years. I looked at his jaw, clenched so tight it looked unnatural, and said yes. For five years, he spoiled me rotten. Whenever he came home from a trip abroad, he brought me a bouquet of pink myrtle. Whenever we made love, he kissed the tip of my ear and called me his "little princess." Then one day, I overheard his right-hand man, Dario Bassi, talking to him. "Are you really going to keep up the act with Enora? Didn't you only get with her back then to make Lyla jealous? "Lyla's divorced and back now. You can drop the act, can't you?" That night, I opened the locked drawer in his study. He'd once told me it held little reminders of our love. Instead, I found his keepsakes from Lyla Ferraro: a watch, emerald cufflinks, a sandalwood rosary... Each piece was engraved with their initials. There was also a stack of love poems in Latin, written in his own hand. They were passionate and lyrical, nothing like the calm face he showed the world. Every one of them was addressed to Lyla. Five years. Five years of lies, shattered in seconds. I quietly booked a train ticket to Geneva. In two days, I'd be out of Vincenzo's life forever.

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.

My best friend, the youngest daughter of the Brown family, Jessica, had just given birth, and I went to see her at the hospital with my husband, Frank James. When I held the little guy in my arms, I could not help but tease him, "Be good, baby boy. Your Godparents are here to see you." Frank, who had been standing at the side quietly, suddenly said, "I'm not his Godfather. He should call me 'father'." He was the Don of the James family and my husband, so I thought I misheard him as I looked up at him in disbelief. Frank smiled and repeated, "That's right. You didn't mishear me. This is my baby. I was with Jessica the day your father had the accident. What a night of passion that was." I was stunned. I felt my throat tighten, unable to believe what was happening. It took me a long time before I finally squeaked something out of my throat, "But we just registered our marriage at the church yesterday…" Frank laughed and pulled me into his arms, nuzzling his lips against my ear. "Don't overthink this. It was over between Jessica and me a long time ago. We just see each other occasionally when we get lonely." After that, he teased, "But I bet you didn't know that before I met you, she used to be the person I trusted most. She's also my first woman." I leaned into his arms stiffly, feeling cold all over. Three years ago, I stayed in a strange family and fought hard for Frank. Three years later, I could also let him go without hesitation and give him up to the other woman. I no longer wanted this man.