Mafia Mafia 단편 소설 & Regret 소설

I was the belle of the school, good grades and all. But I wasn't the nerd they thought I was. I had been secretly dating my adopted brother's sworn enemy for three years. Lucian Palma had a strong desire for intimacy, so I went along with him in unlocking countless places to make love. He promised that he would marry me after graduation. Once he took over the family business from his wealthy father, he would make me the happiest woman alive. I believed him, even indulging him in his kink of recording us sleeping together. Lucian assured me that those videos were for his eyes only, and that no one else would ever see them. But then, I accidentally overheard a conversation between Lucian and his friends. "Lucian, you had deliberately staged a hero saving the damsel in distress situation to make Nina Etienne fall for you, all just to get it back at your archnemesis, Aaron North. If he found out his little sister had been sleeping with you, wouldn't it kill him with rage? "You've filmed hundreds of intimate videos, haven't you? When do you plan to release them? We'd love to see the nerd stripped bare under you." I didn't confront him about this. Instead, I quietly walked away and agreed to meet the fiance my father had arranged for me.

To expand my family's arms empire, I personally blew our old base sky-high. As I surveyed the charred ruins, I filmed a video and posted it on social media. I joked that my family had suffered a crushing defeat in a turf war and that I would have to wait tables to survive. My fiancé Antonio, who had always doted on me, called immediately. Feeling mischievous, I pretended to be afraid and tested him. "Anton, my home has been leveled, and our enemies are hunting me down everywhere… I’m terrified. Will you run away with me?" To my surprise, Antonio gave a cold laugh on the other end of the line and snapped at me. "Know your place, Ophelia. Without your status as the Don’s daughter, you should thank God I even called you! What rotten luck. Don’t lead your enemies to me. We’re through!" He hung up without another word. I stood there stunned. The moment I recovered, I saw his public announcement. In the photo, he was kissing the hand of the daughter of my family’s sworn enemy. The caption read: "For the rest of my life, loyal only to a true queen." I stared at the photo, then lowered my gaze to the engagement ring I had chosen so carefully. The irony was bitter. Perhaps it was for the best. I had planned to give him the underground arms route that controlled the lifeblood of Sicily’s arms trade as a wedding surprise. Now it would serve another owner just as well.

I sold my brand-new 300,000-dollar Bentley for cheap at a price of 30,000. Everyone thought I had gone crazy, but no one knew I had been reborn. In my last life, my mafia boyfriend, Clay Colton's childhood friend, Wendy Jeffords, was heavily pregnant when she experienced pain during the family's gathering. She grabbed my hand as tears streamed down her face. "Ciara, I'm begging you. I'm going into labor. Please take me to the hospital." I was in a panic, and I quickly drove her to the hospital in my new car. However, the baby suffocated from its umbilical cord wrapped around its neck, and the doctor was unable to save it despite doing his best. After Wendy was discharged, she came crying at my company's door while holding up a sign that read, 'Ciara Snow is a murderer! She killed my baby when she drove dangerously!' She told everyone she met that the ride in my car had been too bumpy, and it caused the umbilical cord to strangle her baby. Someone posted a clip of her online, and it trended right away. My pictures, house address, and phone number were revealed on the internet, and many strangers started cursing at me on my social media. I was fired by my company, and people started throwing rubbish at my door. My parents were too afraid of leaving the house due to harassment. My boyfriend, Clay, did not speak up for me when he was interviewed by the media and instead said, "Ciara loved showing off her new luxury car, and she only has herself to blame for everything that has happened." In the end, I jumped off a building. However, when I opened my eyes, I had returned to the day of the family gathering. Wendy was hugging her belly and looking pale as she approached me. "Ciara, I think I'm in labor. Please drive me to the hospital!"

Our last dinner before the marriage ends is a plate of cold lasagna Antonio Costa slides across the table. As I set my fork down, a shadow of blame crosses his eyes. "It's from the soup kitchen. Don't be picky with free food. The family funds are frozen, and we can barely cover the kids' medical bills. Drop the high-maintenance act from your spoiled past." Ever since the Costa family fell from grace, I have been standing in line outside the church at 4:00 am for hand-me-downs. One evening, I see him on Via Montevalerio, watching Sofia Bellini try on a dark red satin gown in a high-end boutique. That is a current-season couture piece, priced high enough to keep us afloat for an entire year. The two discounted kids' sweaters in my hands suddenly feel heavy. At the counter, Sofia reaches for her purse, but Antonio catches her wrist. "It's just a dress. I can afford plenty more." A wave of absurdity hits me as he pulls out a black card I've never seen before. It turns out the family accounts have been unlocked for a while. All those nights I've spent digging through trash cans and giving up my asthma inhaler so I can afford my child's fever medicine suddenly become a bitter joke. I wipe away tears I don't realize are falling and drop the neatly folded hand-me-downs back into the donation bin.

Less than a week after calling off our engagement, Vincent Moretti, the new Don of the Moretti family, married Bianca Marino—the woman I'd once risked my life to save from a firefight. I gave back my family crest and walked away without a fight. The family elders were all waiting for me to fall apart. None of them thought Vincent's "mad dog" could make it without him. For seven years, I'd been his blade, and I'd done it willingly. I betrayed my own family to help him reclaim his territory. I stopped countless attempts on his life and was wounded so many times protecting him that there was barely a patch of unscarred skin left on my body. But the moment he became Don, everything changed. The blood on my hands suddenly disgusted him. He said someone like me had no right to wear the Donna's ring or stand beside him as the face of the family. After that, no one in New York would hire me. I ended up taking jobs cleaning up murder scenes for Brooklyn's underworld. Then I took the blame for someone else and got jumped by a group of gangsters. They shoved my face into the mud and beat me until I could barely move. I thought I was going to die there. Then Vincent came charging in like a madman. He shot one of them in the head, rushed to me, and pulled me into his arms with trembling hands. That familiar cologne hit me at once. I struggled to breathe. I wiped the blood from my eye and gave him a faint, bitter smile. "Thanks for the help, Mr. Moretti. Need someone to clean this up? I'm taking cash only today."

The ninety-ninth thing my adopted sister Isabella took from me was a grave in the sun. I had already paid the deposit, but the cemetery didn’t dare sell the plot to me. Because the Moretti family’s principessa wanted that plot for her dead dog. But I loved that spot. So I called my mother, the Donna of the Moretti family. Her voice cooled the moment I mentioned the grave： “Adriana, are you still pretending you have gastric cancer?” “Isabella just lost her dog. She’s suffered enough. Stop trying to take something else from her.” My father rejected my call. My brother, Luca, answered while helping Isabella choose the dog’s headstone. “Stop buying graves to frighten us. Why are you always so petty? Can't you stand to see your sister have anything good?” I looked at the oncologist’s report in my hand. Seven days. Maybe less. So even when I was truly dying, no one believed me. I chose the only plot left at the edge of the cemetery, where sunlight never reached, and signed the contract. Then I blocked my family one by one. They were right. I needed to stop begging them to care and remove myself from their lives for good. Seven days later, I died alone. That was when the Morettis finally believed me. And lost their minds with regret.

After Isabella loses the three children she carried for the mafia don Matteo, she finally tears herself away from his lies. But when Matteo discovers the truth behind the deaths, his guilt collides with the woman he once used as a pawn, and every secret he buried comes back to destroy the power he thought he controlled.

After days of torture at the hands of my family’s rival gang, they offered me one last phone call. I called my brother, Matteo. I just wanted to say goodbye—while I still had the chance. “What is it now?” he snapped. “Matteo, I—” He didn’t let me finish. “Fix your own mistakes. Until then, don’t call me again.” Death didn’t hurt as much as those words did. I felt my heart slow to a stop as my brother’s words echoed in my ears. I guess you’re finally at peace now, Matteo. I won’t bother you again. And you’ll never have to see me again.

After ten years’ being in love with Don Bianco, I finally got the chance to take wedding photos with him. My best friend Amy, who facilitated our engagement, also came to help us. When Amy was dressed in her tailored bridesmaid dress, I saw a clear astonishment in Bianco’s eyes. Amy advised to take a photo together as a commemoration, As I stood in my wedding dress as the central one, Amy laughed at herself: “I look like a maid.” Immediately, Bianco dragged me to the edge, leaving the highlight to Amy. The flash lit up, they were the perfect match. When choosing the photos, Bianco required the photographer pick the one with me on the edge as the welcome poster for our wedding. I questioned Bianco: “Why should the middle of our wedding poster be left to another woman?” Bianco glanced at me with a dismissive smile: “You’ll be Donna anyway, sweetheart. Stop being jealous.” “Without Amy, we couldn’t have taken the photo. Picking this one shows our gratitude.” Staring at the photo, I found myself dressed up to the nines, but looked like a stranger. Even standing in the position, I couldn’t own it. I didn’t want to be in the middle anymore.

On the night before the wedding, my fiancé suddenly asked me to give up the ceremony for his first love, Sofia. I turned it down cold in my former life, only to become the Chicago mob’s godmother at a lavish wedding. When Sofia heard the news, she was heartbroken and jumped into the sea to take her own life. Vincent blamed me for Sofia’s death. For the next thirty years, the words he said to me most often were: “Elena, if I had married Sofia that day, she wouldn't have died.” On his deathbed, he told our children: “Don’t bury me with Elena.” The year after he died, I fell gravely ill and passed away. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night before the wedding. Over the phone, Vincent's voice came again: "Sofia needs this title more than you do. Everyone knows I love you, so they respect you—but Sofia's different. She's just a poor orphan girl..." Before he could finish, I calmly replied, “Fine, I agree.” I turned and signed the papers to cut ties with the family. I flew to Sicily, home to the Salk Institute that I had always looked up to. In this life, I refuse to be his appendage.

The man I love more than anyone in this world, Don Carlo Guardia, has spent ten years loathing me because of his one true love, Margherita Carrettiere. We torment each other until the final days of my life, when he sets aside all his Famiglia's affairs and stays by my deathbed, patiently feeding me my favorite grapes. "Giovannina, if I were given another chance, I wish I had never met you," he tells me with bloodshot eyes. Three days after I am laid to rest, before the entire Famiglia, he raises a gun to his temple and ends his life at my grave. When I open my eyes again, the first thing I hear is the heated argument echoing through my Famiglia's council chamber. A rival Famiglia has obtained all the evidence of our underground financial network. Their terms are clear. If we want this war to end, we must hand over one of our heirs to stand trial. In my previous life, my Papa, Guglielmo Carrettiere, cannot bear to sacrifice me. So, he sends my younger sister, Margherita, who suffers from a heart condition, in my place. Ultimately, she dies a tragic death. Consequently, Carlo spends the rest of his life resenting me. I rise to my feet and speak up before the astonished eyes of my Famiglia's Consiglieri. "Papa, please hand me over. As for the marriage alliance with the Guardia Famiglia… have Margherita take my place." Now that I've been given another chance at life, I choose to give up on Carlo and fulfill his wish to be with Margherita.

On my wedding day,I rode to the church in a prison transport van. I'm the future Godmother of the family. But his little side piece whined that she "wanted to know what marriage feels like." So,my future husband tossed me aside without a second thought. He let her wear my custom bridal gown. She took my bouquet,got into my getaway car,and drove off. Ever since we started planning this wedding,I've been a shadow. Just because that bitch claims she's "anti-marriage." She wanted a taste of a happy ending she'll never get. The wedding photos,the dress fitting—my fiancé put her first every single time. And now,she's hijacking my own damn wedding. I just laughed. It's pathetic. If she wants him that bad,she can have him. I don't do sloppy seconds.

My husband, Adriano Moretti, the Don of the Moretti famiglia, brings a three-year-old boy back to the estate. Adriano's mother, Vittoria Moretti, calls for a family meeting. In front of all the core members, she announces that the boy will be raised by me. She says he is the only surviving bloodline of her late eldest son, Luca Moretti. Vittoria says, "It's very chaotic out there right now. His birth mother can't protect him. Lucrezia, if you don't take him in, he won't survive the winter in Sezarro." My heart goes out to the little boy, and I take him in. In the next seven years, I personally raise Antonino into the finest child in the Moretti famiglia. I tell Adriano I want a child of our own. However, he keeps coming up with the same excuse. "Antonino is Luca's only son. I'm afraid that if we have a child, he'll feel like we don't love him anymore. We can have our own child once he's old enough to understand. There's no rush." Thinking about all the hardships Antonino has endured since childhood, I feel sorry for him too and never bring it up again. When Antonino is ten, he has a sudden asthma attack that lands him in the hospital. When I arrive outside his room at the private hospital, I hear Vittoria say, "Lucrezia doesn't have a child of her own yet. With Antonino by her side all these years, she got to experience being a mother. "But if she finds out Antonino is your biological son, will she still devote all her resources and energy to raising him?" Adriano remains silent. That night, I go to the Moretti famiglia's archives alone. After searching for a long time, I finally find Antonino's birth records that are hidden away. On his birth certificate, I see the name written under the birth father column—Adriano Moretti. It turns out that the child I've been raising for seven years as the orphaned son of Adriano's deceased brother is actually his illegitimate child all along. Seven years ago, I brought that child into the Moretti famiglia. Seven years later, I cross my own name off the family registry and walk out of the Moretti estate alone.

From the age of ten, every dollar my parents spent on me became a debt. Tuition. Clothes. Food. Even medical bills. By eighteen, I had signed one hundred and ninety-nine promissory notes. But Camilla—the daughter of the man who died protecting my parents—received everything for free. They gave her my bedroom, my inheritance bracelet, a Manhattan apartment, a Maserati, and eventually even the attention of my fiancé, Nick. My parents called it repaying her father’s sacrifice. They called my suffering “heir training.” On the eighteenth birthday Camilla and I shared, I was seriously injured in a car accident. While my family celebrated her aboard a Caribbean yacht, I begged them for three thousand dollars to pay for emergency surgery. They accused me of inventing the accident to ruin her party. Then Mom told me to sign another promissory note. That became number two hundred. I finally understood that no amount of obedience would make them choose me. So I gave myself seven days to repay every cent, surrender the DeLuca name, and end my engagement.

My mother, Diane Sutton, was helping me into the bridal suite when she suddenly stumbled forward. Someone had smeared strong adhesive across the red carpet. Her shoe came off, and four of her toes poked through her torn stocking. My father, Martin Sutton, rushed over to help her, but as soon as he turned, everyone saw the sticky note on his back. "Clearance! 99 cents!" The room fell silent. Chiara Lombardi, Enzo Valli's assistant, couldn't hold back anymore. She burst out laughing, then said, "Look how embarrassing they look! I hereby declare the 100th test officially underway!" I froze. "Wasn't it already over?" Three years ago, Enzo told me he wanted to marry me. His father, Don Marco Valli, respected me as an attorney but believed my family background made me unfit to marry his son. So Marco and his advisor came up with 99 tests and put Chiara in charge of them. They hoped I'd eventually give up and call off the wedding myself. Over the next three years, Chiara replaced my toothpaste with mustard, swapped my shampoo for depilatory cream, and even released rats into my room at night. Whenever I felt like I couldn't take it anymore, Enzo would pull me into his arms and murmur, "Nora, just hang on a little longer. Once the tests are over, I promise no one will ever hurt you again." He could not openly defy the procedure the advisor had set, but he never once bothered to ask what Chiara had put me through. As long as we got married in the end, what I endured along the way didn't matter. Last night was the 99th test. I thought the nightmare was finally over. Then Chiara announced, "You passed. But your parents haven't! You're going to be the Donna one day. Your parents represent the Family too. If they can't handle something this minor, what good are they?" I turned to Enzo for help. He ruffled my hair as if soothing a petulant child. "Do as Chiara says. Just hang on a little longer." I'd put up with this for three years. I was done enduring it.

Everyone knew Lorenzo Moretti, the undisputed ruler of the estate, was hopelessly in love with me. To prove it, he bought a private paradise and christened it Lucy Island. The rule was simple: once a year, members of the Moretti Empire would spin a grand wheel for a chance to spend a night on the island. Lorenzo swore we would only wed there, throwing a feast for the ages. Yet for seven excruciating years, every time I spun the wheel, it delivered the same mocking verdict: Better Luck Next Year. I became the only woman in the empire forbidden from stepping foot on the island built in my name. Our wedding remained frozen in time. “Rules are rules, Lucy,” Lorenzo would insist. “A Moretti never breaks his word.” Exhausted by the endless waiting, I sneaked into the hall the night before the event, magnet in hand, determined to rig the wheel in my favor. Then I heard his voice, sharp and calculating. “Set the same mechanism. Lucy’s wheel cannot stop on my name.” I froze. “You’ve made her spin a rigged wheel for seven years,” his assistant, Mark, ventured carefully. “Aren't you afraid she’ll leave?” Lorenzo’s cold smirk echoed through the dark room. “Who would dare touch what belongs to me?” “Do you feel nothing for her?” Mark pressed. “Rosaline needs only one more year to recover,” Lorenzo replied smoothly. “Next year, I’ll marry Lucy as promised.” Rosaline. His childhood friend. The woman who mysteriously landed on Lorenzo’s name every single year, spending the night on my island, in my bed, while Lorenzo claimed it was just bad luck. When I argued with him, he would casually say, “One night of love can't erase the passion I have for you, Lucy. You are my fiancée. That will never change.” Standing in the shadows with a magnet in my palm, I finally saw the truth. I wasn’t his grand love—I was his grand illusion.

The day after my sister broke up with her mafia boyfriend, she went off on vacation to clear her head. She swore she'd find a man even better than her ex, and she sent me a whole stack of profiles of good-looking guys. She wanted me to help her pick. I was about to tap the screen when Dante snatched the phone away, his brow furrowing as he let out a soft laugh. "You are my Donna! Don't pick up her bad habits." Before I could get a good look, Dante deleted every last photo. I explained, "She's not really like that. She was with that boyfriend for eight years, and he hurt her too deeply." "She kept him like a treasure. Even I never got to meet him." Dante raised an eyebrow and, a little stiffly, told me, "Tomorrow I'm going to Sicily to handle Family business. You be good and stay home." I nodded and agreed, waiting for him to return. My sister happened to get back from her own trip right around the time he did. The moment she walked in, she couldn't wait to tell me how her ex had come back to propose to her. I smiled and congratulated her. But when she took out the engagement ring, my heart skipped a beat. That morning, I'd just happened to find a matching men's wedding ring inside Dante's suit.

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.

My fiancé, Luciano Marino, was the Don of the Marino family, and he was an extremely careful man. For the five years we'd known each other, he'd kept me on his estate outside the city. "Eleanor, you're my weak spot. I'll never let any of my enemies lay a finger on you." "The fewer people who know about you, the safer you are." So I'd never once appeared in public with him, let alone met his family. Three days before our wedding, I was outside the study when I overheard him talking to the butler. "Don, are you sure you want to schedule your wedding to Ms. Vanderhall for the same day, three days from now?" "That's right." "Then... what about Ms. Ashford?" He took a deep drag on his cigar. "Eleanor has always been understanding. She won't mind if I'm a little late." My hand froze before I could push the door open, and my mind went blank. Hands shaking, I opened Instagram on my phone and searched for Eileen Vanderhall's account. Her feed was filled with photos of the two of them. She came and went from Luciano's armory as she pleased, attended his family dinners, and even sat in on meetings with his crew. "He says that when you love someone, you share every part of your life with them." So it wasn't that he refused to let the woman he loved into his life. It was just that the woman wasn't me. Back in my room, I dialed a number. "Dad, I lost the bet. I'm ready to come home and marry the man you picked." ...

I’d been with Hurley, the heir to the Crescent Claw pack, for seven years. He’d insisted on throwing me a huge birthday party. But on the day of the party, Hurley gave the million-dollar custom gown my mother had commissioned for me to his childhood friend, Rachel. He said it so casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Rachel’s dress got ruined, and we couldn’t find a replacement in time. You two are about the same size, so I just let her borrow it.” “I remember you have a few backup dresses, right? Why don’t you just wear one of those tonight?” I thought back on the past seven years, and how this wasn't the first time he'd put me second for Rachel. For one of my birthdays, he gave me a cheap necklace from a street stall but bought Rachel a ruby necklace at a high-end auction. His excuse? “You’re an Alpha’s daughter; you already have everything. Rachel’s different.” When I was sick with a fever and needed him, he was busy comforting Rachel because she was afraid of the dark. He’d told me, “Rachel’s fragile and timid. She needs me more.” It happened over and over again. This time, I was finally done. The borrowed dress and the unfaithful man—I wanted neither.