เรื่องสั้นแนวMafia Mafia และนิยาย Regret

The night before our engagement party, I took two bullets for Don Luca Marchetti and ended up in the hospital. But instead of canceling the party, he went ahead with the ceremony—with another woman. Everyone on the East Coast expected me to lose it. That day, I fought through the pain in my back, slipped into a red dress, and walked into the party. The moment Luca saw me, he pulled his fiancée, Ivy Palmer, behind him. I knew that worried look. I'd worn it countless times whenever I thought he might get hurt. Then, out of nowhere, lines of floating text appeared before my eyes and began scrolling past. "Don't believe it, sweetie! Luca's only pretending he doesn't love you! He's trying to keep you safe!" "Right, you're the heroine of this sweet romance! Luca only loves you!" In my last life, I believed every word of those comments. In the end, the woman by his side shoved me into a fire, and I burned to death as he watched without lifting a finger. This time, I wouldn't be stupid enough to fall for him again. I walked up to him with a faint smile. "Don, I wish you and your Donna a lifetime of happiness together." But after I walked away for good, Luca came crawling back, crying and begging me for another chance.

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.

The Mafia circle in New York City was a tangled web, where power shifted in the blink of an eye. The Dusk family, once a powerful force in the underworld, was now reduced to nothing more than a pawn in the game. Their only hope for survival was to marry off their daughters, securing the support they so desperately needed. I, Seraphina Dusk, was sadly one of those daughters. In my past life, I had managed to secure myself a powerful marriage. I married Silas Vane, the head of the most influential mafia family in the country. My sister, Lila, was less fortunate, ending up with Jaxon Westmore—whom she believed would save her. I gave Silas a son and a daughter, and in return, my family was gifted wealth and power. But my sister? She was not so lucky. Jaxon wasn’t the man she thought he was. Instead of honoring the marriage or alliance, he squandered his time on models and strippers, leaving Lila discarded by both him and our father. One seemingly ordinary day, Lila invited me to lunch—never did I expect that she would kill me, drove a knife into my heart. Then she killed herself. And now here I was, reborn, back when our father first told us that Lila and I have to marry for the family. And this time, Lila called her shots on Silas Vane. That’s when I knew. She was reborn as well. Let her have him, then. She had no idea what kind of man he really was.

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.

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.

Whenever they played Truth or Dare, my boyfriend's childhood sweetheart, Clara would deliberately dare him to pull the same prank on me, and Ronan would always willingly play along: he would pretend to propose to me. The last time, I fell for it. I joyfully held out my hand, but a mechanism inside the ring snapped shut, and I cried out in pain. Ronan and Clara doubled over with laughter, ignoring my finger, which had been pinched purple. Afterward, Ronan pinned me against the wall and swore that this year, he would give me a real proposal. So when his bodyguards brought me to the private club where we first met, I changed into an expensive white silk gown, styled my hair, and applied my most exquisite makeup. I even played the touching scene out in my head, imagining myself nodding and saying yes. But as I pushed open the door to the VIP room, my heart pounding, someone threw a full glass of deep red wine in my face. It streamed down my chin and onto my gown. A woman's laughter erupted from the crowd. "I told you Aurora would show up, didn't I? Ronan, you lose!" Ronan walked over, looking resigned. He gently dabbed at my face with a napkin, his tone as soft as ever. "Dressed up just for me? A shame to ruin a good dress." "Clara dared me to bet on whether you would have the guts to come to our turf tonight. I bet that you would. The wager was this: if you didn't, I'd propose tomorrow. If you came, we'd have to wait another year." "Sorry, baby. Since you showed up, I guess we can't get married this year." The wine trickled down my collarbone, cold and sticky. I shivered. Suddenly, the whole thing felt utterly pointless. Our anniversary meant nothing compared to one of their pranks. Just like me. I could never win against Clara, his childhood sweetheart. I unclasped the simple silver bracelet, the one I'd worn for six years, from my wrist. "This is over. We're breaking up."

“System, I want out.” The dressing-room door stood slightly open. Through the gap, I could see my husband holding the foundation’s young assistant against a wardrobe. Her coat lay on the rug we’d chosen together. “Matteo, stop.” She caught his hand, lowering her voice. “The doctor confirmed it. I’m pregnant.” His smile vanished. “You told me birth control wouldn’t be a problem.” “I thought that one time would be okay. I’ll take care of it. Please don’t be angry. Elena won’t find out.” He stepped back and buttoned his shirt, his tone as cold as if she’d botched a business deal. “You think this makes you the next Mrs. Moretti? Violet, you know who that title belongs to.” She fell silent. The System spoke in my ear. [Assessment complete. He still loves you and has no intention of replacing you as his wife.] [Leaving will cause your body in this world to die. It cannot be restored. Do you still wish to proceed?] I watched Matteo reach for her again. “Yes.” [Request accepted. Departure scheduled in twenty-four hours.]

"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.

For five years, I was with Julian, Wall Street's golden boy. Every anniversary, I’d secretly hope he would finally get down on one knee — but he never did. Every single time, he’d press a tender, apologetic kiss to my lips. "Baby, let's wait until the IPO. I want to give you the biggest wedding imaginable. Just wait a little longer for me, okay?" And I’d nod, swallowing the ache, year after year. .Finally, His company went public and landed a huge deal with the Castello family—the most powerful syndicate in the country. I was certain he’d finally propose. Instead, I found a trust fund document. There, right under the "Legal Spouse" line, was a name: Caroline. The widow of Julian’s late brother. When I called to confront him, his response was utterly callous. "I promised my brother I'd take care of Caroline and his son, Noah. The boy needs a father, Alessia. That's the only reason I married her. We have a deal—we'll divorce as soon as Noah turns eighteen." "You should be more understanding of how hard it is for Caroline to raise a child alone. Don't be so unreasonable, alright?" I didn't lose my temper. I just calmly replied: "No need. I’m not interested in sloppy seconds." What he didn't know was that I am the daughter of the Castello family's Don. I made a call to my father. "Dad.I'm ready to come home and take over the family business. I will personally attend the signing ceremony with Obsidian Group in three days." I was going to make Julian taste absolute despair.

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 Vale family was the most powerful mafia syndicate in the New York City. And I—along with a few other carefully chosen girls—had been handpicked to join their ranks, trained from the ground up so that the next head of the family could choose his wife from among us. Wife. That was the kinder word for it. The truth was whoever got picked would become his shield, his weapon, his most loyal protector. Someone who would kill for him. Die for him. Years passed. One by one, the others fell away. In the end, only Elara Quinn and I remained. And then, Elara died—killed on a secret mission. After that, there were no more choices left. I became Adrian Vale’s wife by default. I had given everything to Adrian. And I loved him. I thought he loved me too until I took a bullet to the chest—meant for him. As I lay there, barely breathing, I heard Adrian talking to his assistant, “Don’t bury her in the Vale cemetery. My half is reserved for Elara.” That was it. Elara—who had never even lived long enough to marry him—still had a space carved beside him in death. I? I had taken the hit that should have ended him… and yet I wasn’t even good enough to be buried near him. I slowly closed my eyes. And when I opened them again, I was back on the day the Vale family formally announced Adrian as their new head. The day everything began.

At an underground auction, Bianca Ferraro, the fiancee of Don Lucian Castellano, bought a single night of my services for five dollars. Everyone sneered that I was the cheapest woman in the world. Bianca just pointed at me, laughing so hard she shook. "Back then I pinned a traitor's label on her, and as punishment I sold her straight to her creditors." "As I recall, she went for a few dozen dollars." She swirled her glass, her smile turning more vicious. "Five years on, worn out and used up, of course she's lost her value." The guests on the yacht roared with laughter. Only the yacht's owner, Lucian Castellano, crushed the glass in his hand to powder with a sharp crack. Blood ran down his knuckles, but he seemed to feel no pain. He only stared at me. And I, in the bunny outfit Bianca had thrown at me, poured wine for the rich and powerful and angled for their tips as if nothing was wrong. The next second, he shot to his feet and seized my wrist. But before he could speak, I coldly pushed his hand away. "Don Castellano." "You have a fiancee. Do you want my services too?"

On our seventh anniversary, Don Leonardo Luciano gave me an eight-carat pigeon's-blood ruby ring. He told me it was a family heirloom, passed from one Donna to the next. "Camilla, I can't give you a wedding yet, but in my heart, you're already my wife." My eyes filled with tears as I slipped it onto my finger. Then I asked my best friend, Nora Bennett, to examine it after her shift at the auction house. She held it under a lamp and slowly turned the stone. A ring of crimson light appeared inside it. "This isn't a natural ruby." "How is that possible? Leonardo gave it to me. It's a family heirloom." Nora frowned. "Really? I heard every piece of Luciano family jewelry bears a gold lion crest. Does yours have one?" I took off the ring and checked. Nothing. Just then, a new story from Victoria Moretti popped up on my feed. She was the daughter of another powerful mafia family. The photo showed her aboard Leonardo's private yacht. And on her finger was a ring identical to mine. A man stood beside her, his face hidden from view. But I recognized the watch on his wrist. I'd given it to Leonardo. Then I saw the caption. "After all this time, you finally put the family ring on my finger."

The Ivanovas and the Vitales are well-known aristocratic families who have maintained everlasting friendship through generations. My name is Anastasia Ivanova. I have been the daughter of the Ivanovas for twenty years, only to discover just now that I was switched at birth. When I was swept out of the Ivanova’s mansion like rubbish, Lorenzo, the youngest son of the Vitale family, firmly picked me up in spite of all objections. Lorenzo always acted cold and distant toward me. I didn’t know why he came to take me into his car at that time. He whispered in my ear again and again, ‌"I’ve wanted you for a long time."‌ He pinned me against the leather seat, making me cry until my voice was hoarse. At that moment, I finally understood his coldness over the years was not indifference but restraint. Soon after, Lorenzo overrode all objections to marry me. His parents were vehemently against me, but Lorenzo directly stripped them of power and became the youngest godfather. Scarlett Montgomery tried to stop us from getting married, but Lorenzo canceled all her credit cards and threatened to send her away. I thought we would have a happy life. Three days before our wedding ceremony, he planned to send me abroad, claiming enemies might retaliate. But, I accidentally overheard him talking to Scarlett in the hallway at night. "Thank goodness. You tricked her into leaving until after I give birth. You’re so good to me!"‌ He kissed her cheek, ‌"I don’t want Anastasia know our affair. You must keep it secret."‌ Their dialogue made me devastated. But I didn’t confront him immediately. Instead, I quietly completed my immigration paperwork as a way to make a clean break with him.

Every Mafia family in Sicily knew the story. Susie Campbell, the pampered princess of the Campbell family, had an older sister, Selina Campbell, who loved her more than life itself. On the day Susie's arranged marriage was settled, Selina simply signed her own businesses over to her. But in less than a year, Susie's husband cheated on her. Selina and her husband, Charles Romano, surrounded the estate with guns drawn that same day and threatened to kill him if he refused to sign the divorce papers. All of Sicily envied the bond between the two sisters. Until Charles died in an accident. Then came the day Selina went to claim the inheritance. The estate administrator told her, "I'm sorry, but only a legal spouse can inherit." Selina explained at once. "I'm his wife. Here are my documents." The administrator shook his head. "The records show that you aren't his spouse. You divorced twenty-eight years ago. His current legal spouse is Susie Campbell." The blood drained from Selina's face. She rushed straight back to the estate. The moment she walked in, the attorney handling the estate was already there. He was reading. "Charles Romano left the estate and bank accounts to Susie Campbell. The remaining businesses and shares go to your daughter, Emma Romano. "Selina Campbell is to receive the country house." Susie said, her voice trembling, "Selina, I'm so sorry. Don't worry, I'll move out of the estate." Emma turned on her. "Mom, don't take this out on Aunt Susie just because you're hurt. You already have the country house. Why isn't that enough for you?" Selina tried to speak, but her throat had closed up completely. She had never imagined that the sister she had protected all her life and the daughter she had raised so carefully would conspire with her own husband to deceive her. Everything churning in Selina's chest surged upward in a spray of blood. Voices kept calling her name somewhere nearby. When she woke again, she was twenty-eight years in the past.

I am a top-notch surgeon. But when my ex-boyfriend —— now the Don of the Blackwood family —— was brought to the hospital injured, even the head nurse advised me against taking the case. Everyone said the Dante Blackwood despised me. Because three years ago—the last time we met—I took off my engagement ring and handed it back to him, then got into the car of Dominic, the Don of Mercer family. But I still put on my white coat and walked in. Not only walked in—I pressed my hand right against his stomach without a shred of hesitation. Before the punch came, it was the killing intent in his eyes. "I told you. Touch me one more time, and I'll break every bone in your body." The interns outside the door were all holding their breath for my safety. I adjusted my gold-rimmed glasses and let out a helpless smile. But the moment I undid the buttons of his shirt, even though his mouth told me to get out, his body couldn't help but tense up.

I stood by Carlos Mancini for 50 years. I watched him rise from a nobody on the streets of Sicily to the cold-blooded Don of a Mafia empire. I thought we were soulmates who could never be pulled apart. I believed that until the day he lay dying. I leaned over his bed, sobbing my heart out. But his cloudy, unfocused eyes looked straight through me, fixed on something far away. He murmured, "Nina, in the next life, we can finally be together..." In that moment, I felt as if I'd been struck by lightning. Nina Russo was the widow of one of Carlos's fallen men. 40 years ago, he'd brought that timid woman back to the estate and looked at me hopefully. "Sam Russo died for me. It's my responsibility to take care of her for the rest of her life." I pulled out my revolver, pressed it to my temple, and made him choose between Nina and me. He was terrified. He snatched the gun away, pulled me into his arms, and tried to calm me down. "You're overthinking this. You're the only woman I've ever loved. I don't feel anything like that for her." He sent Nina overseas with a large sum of money, enough to make sure she'd never want for anything. But from that day on, the light went out of his eyes. When I opened my eyes again, I'd gone back 40 years. Young and handsome in his black trench coat, Carlos stood tall before me while Nina hid behind him, looking fragile. Carlos looked at me with a hint of nervousness and anticipation in his eyes. "Alice, she's Sam's wife. I promised Sam I'd take care of her..." I swirled the glass in my hand and let out a soft laugh. "Of course. Let her stay at the estate." This time, I chose to let them have each other while I walked away.

Ethan and I met at a soup kitchen in the slums. We were fighting over half a moldy bread roll. I only learned his story from other people later. His father was the head of Lorencio's largest crime family, killed in a bloody power struggle from within. His mother took a payout and vanished. My father was an accountant for another family. He was framed for cooking the books and shot dead. Same story, same wound. That was what brought us together. We clawed our way up from a crumbling slum to the marble halls of the Lorencio crime families, until finally Ethan took his seat as Don of the Valeria Family. Nine years of marriage. No church. No proposal. Not even a proper cake. Then one day, out of nowhere, Ethan said he wanted to get me a diamond ring. "We had no church and no priest when we got married. I've been meaning to do this properly for a long time. And there'll be more to come." I stared at the custom diamond in the display case, enormous and flawless, and felt something close to happiness. The sales associate smiled and complimented his taste, mentioning that another couple had just ordered a ring too. They'd walked out minutes ago, planning a proposal for tomorrow. "Nine years together and still this in love. That's everything." I reached for his hand. He stepped away, said he needed to take a call. I hadn't heard his phone ring. I followed. Down the hallway, I watched him press a woman against the wall, his mouth on hers. His voice was sharp with jealousy. "You actually agreed to let him propose to you?" "Break it off. I'll buy you the ring." I stood frozen. My chest caved in. Then a pair of hands pulled me into a fitting room alcove. A man's breath was close, warm in the dark. A low voice, almost amused: "Your husband's sleeping with my fiancée. Why don't we give it a try too?"

I used to think my husband was the angel who saved me from the depths of hell. Five years ago, I would have died for my ex-fiance, Marco Lombardi, but his carelessness caused Mom's kidneys to fail. He ignored 99 of my calls, and with an empty bank account, I couldn't even afford the surgery to donate my kidney to her. Only later did I discover that during that time, he was having romantic getaways with my stepsister, Penny Rossi. When I hit rock bottom, mafia Don Leon Costa showed up. He got me the best doctors, handled everything when Mom died, and even proposed to me when I was a complete mess. In our five years of marriage, he has spoiled me rotten. I've almost forgotten how much Marco and Penny hurt me. Then, today, I overhear his phone call with Penny. "Leon, thank you for giving my sister's kidney to my mother back then." My beloved husband just brushes it off. "Don't worry about it. I'll look after your sister. She won't ever know." He laughs quietly, and his voice is full of warmth. "You know I hate seeing you cry."

My little sister had always been too frail to run and play, so I wasn’t allowed to, either. My parents insisted I sit quietly beside her and learn to be a lady. “Be more like Bianca,” Mom would say. “You’re a don’s daughter. Act like one.” But when I wore the same color as her, Dad would tell me to change. “Must you compete with your sister for attention?” Once, I baked my brother his favorite almond cookies. He pushed the tray aside. “Bianca makes these for me. Stop copying her just to get my attention.” Yesterday, he snapped at her for interrupting a meeting. She cut her wrist with a kitchen knife. They rushed her to the hospital. My brother pulled the guards from my studio to protect her at the hospital, leaving me there alone. Men from a rival family broke into my unguarded studio. They took me captive, stabbed me in the stomach, and dragged me down to the basement. I called my brother with trembling hands. “They broke into the studio. I’ve been stabbed… Please, help me.” “Stop lying.” He sounded exhausted with me. “Bianca had a scare yesterday, and now you’re telling me you’re dying? You just can’t stand her getting all the attention.” Then he hung up. The concrete was cold beneath me. My hand went slack. The stairs blurred, then disappeared. I hadn’t lied. All my life, they had treated my pain as another attempt to copy my sister and steal their attention. This time, I died. Days later, when the police called them to identify my body, they were frantic with regret.