Mafia Mafia Short Stories & Regret Novels

Three nights before my wedding, our families played a “lucky key” game. Each woman drew a key to one of the gift cases. Everyone said the assignments were random. My key opened an empty case. Inside was a single card. THANK YOU FOR PLAYING. My fiancé, Damian Valenti, touched my shoulder. “Your luck has always been terrible.” My childhood friend, Luca Ferraro, lowered his voice. “Smile. Don’t let everyone think you’re a sore loser.” My half sister, Sienna, drew the grand prize. Her case held a vintage Valenti brooch, the Mediterranean vacation I had spent months planning, and a card Luca had written himself. Whatever happens, we will always protect you. I smiled for the photographs and returned my card to the empty case. It was only a game. Someone had to lose. Then I passed the club office and heard the coordinator checking the list. “Grand prize for Miss Sienna Russo. Empty case for Miss Alessandra Russo. Mr. Valenti, were those the correct assignments?” Damian paused. “Yes. Sienna would have cried if she had drawn the empty case. Alessandra can handle disappointment.” Luca laughed. “She always does. She’ll find a graceful way to explain it.” They had rigged the game because Sienna’s tears were inconvenient, while my disappointment was easy to ignore. I smiled, walked away, and decided to cancel the wedding scheduled for three days later. They could keep their rigged game. I was done playing.

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.

Ten years of marriage, and my husband slid the divorce papers across his mahogany desk. "You contributed nothing to this family. Under the prenup, you walk away with nothing." "Consider this a courtesy. Ten thousand a year. A hundred grand for a decade of your youth." "Don't even think about touching a cent of family money." I smiled and signed. I'm the kind of woman who's already died once. The next day, I took that hundred-thousand-dollar check and walked straight into the territory of his most dangerous enemy—Dominic Salucci. The man who controls half the East Coast underworld looked at me like I was inventory he hadn't ordered. "Why should I help you?" I leaned in close. "Because I know every decision Vincent Moretti is going to make for the next ten years. Every property. Every shipping route. And I know about the son he's hiding in Zurich." He studied me for a long moment. Then he smiled. "Interesting." What he doesn't know—what Vincent doesn't know—is that in my last life, men like them buried me without a second thought. This time, I'm going to watch every last one of them kneel.

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 my wedding day, my fiancé's first love walked in holding a little boy and named the groom as the child's father. My mother saw it, and her heart gave out. She died right there on the floor. The wedding collapsed and I went down with it, fainting in front of everyone. When I came to, my oldest friend, Lucian Graves, was sitting beside me. He held me tightly in his arms. He took care of all my mother’s funeral arrangements for me. When the reporters swarmed, he put himself between me and the cameras. He cleared my name over the wedding, and then he got down on one knee in front of everyone and asked me to marry him, swearing he would take care of me for the rest of my life. After marriage, we became the happiest couple in our circle. Then, on our first anniversary, I opened the chat history on his phone. "Don, thank God you set up that wedding disruption. My son and I are happy now." "You did get her mother killed, though. Don't blame yourself. She's the one who insisted on marrying a man who was never hers." The replies were from Lucian. "Nothing to blame myself for. It was just an accident." "As long as you're happy, there's nothing I won't do." The ground dropped out from under me, and the phone hit the floor.

I was Don Victor’s secret wife for five years, hidden away like a dirty little secret. He made me a promise. Give him an heir, and he’d show me to the world. I’d be the Donna everyone envied. But there was a catch. A lie. His doctor told me I was barren. Victor held me while I sobbed, kissing my face. "Baby, we can still do IVF. I want a child from you. Only you." So I took the pain. Five years. 999 needles. I was finally pregnant on Christmas Day. I ran to his office to share the news, only to find him buried deep inside another woman. Julia. A Mafia princess from another family. The betrayal hit me. I turned to leave, tears in my eyes, but then I heard a truth I couldn't escape. "Don't you worry, my princess. The baby in Maria's belly? It's ours. Your egg, my sperm. She’s just the perfect vessel." My hand trembled. I backed away, silent. Then I made a call. A lawyer. "I don't care what it costs. I want a divorce from Don Victor."

My mafia boyfriend, Finn, is always bickering with his childhood friend, Amanda. For my birthday, she brought me a bullet vibe. "Here. For round two, just in case. I know his stamina better than anyone." He tossed a bottle of pale foundation at her. "Slap some more on. Maybe then someone will actually want to touch you." They shoved each other on their way out, slamming the door behind them. The candles on the cake burned down to nothing while I sat alone at the dining table. The first time our families sat down for a formal dinner, she smiled and slipped him a small bottle of lube. "Take it. So you don't make the poor girl suffer." His face darkened. "Better than you crying at night, hugging a body pillow." This time, Finn had arranged a private island vacation. A mutual friend quietly gave me a heads-up, telling me he was planning to propose on a cliff at sunset. After a seven-year marathon, I told myself this was it. The finish line was finally in sight. I dressed meticulously, putting on my most expensive dress, and walked toward the helipad. I pulled open the helicopter door. Amanda was already in the co-pilot's seat. She raised an eyebrow at me. "Chloe, you're here? I'm claustrophobic, so you don't mind if I sit up front, right?" Finn, gripping the controls, turned to look me over. "Chloe, you sit in the back. I'm worried she'll have a meltdown and start scratching and biting. It'll ruin the mood." Before I could say a word, Amanda was already arguing with him. "What's that supposed to mean? You think I'm a burden?" "It's not the first time I've thought so. Why are you being so dramatic today?" Their back and forth was so practiced it felt like a script they had rehearsed a thousand times. In that moment, the exhaustion of the past seven years washed over me. And for the first time, I realized I didn't want to say yes to his proposal anymore.

Reborn as the long-lost Rogers heir, missing for fifteen years, I avoided every chance to bond with my two brothers in this family. When they tossed me Vivi’s discarded, ill-fitting gown for the family gala, I smiled and put it on. When they sent Vivi to get an elite education while ordering me to scrub the utility room, I picked up the mop without a word. When they let Vivi chase love and dumped her rejected suitor on me, I didn’t fight. I accepted her leftovers with a calm nod. This was all because in my past life, I had spent my entire life desperate for my brothers' approval, only to end up despised by everyone for it. When I died in the crossfire of a gangland shootout, my own son pushed my body away in disgust. "Mom, did you really waste your whole life on such a petty fight with Aunt Vivi? Dying for the family would have been a more dignified end. At least then you wouldn't have disgraced our name." I left this world filled with resentment, only to open my eyes and find myself back at the moment I first set foot in the Rogers estate. This time, I'm done fighting. The power, the name, the honor. I'm letting them have it all. I’ve already been accepted into a closed-door medical project. Soon they will never see me again.

At the Costa family's annual capo banquet, Marco Costa declared the family would extend protection to one woman only: Rosa Frost, his childhood sweetheart, newly divorced and newly returned to the family fold. One by one, the other women slipped away into the night with their money, their dignity, and fresh protectors already lined up. I, Viola Rossi, once his Donna, was severed from the Costa family entirely, with nowhere left to go. Twenty-one years prior, The System ripped me into this life with a brutal mandate: make one of four made men fall irrevocably in love with me, and I'd earn my way back to my real life with a healthy body. I failed. Every single one of them chose Rosa. The system's final mercy: die here, go home. I stood in a rotting Brooklyn dock warehouse, gun in hand, and closed my eyes. Right as darkness closed in, a raw, raging scream of my name tore through the silence, like the man shouting would burn the whole world apart to reach me.

The Consigliere—my husband, Sal Barzini—who'd always despised anything soft or weak—suddenly started sleeping with a teddy bear. One button eye missing, filthy as a stray dog, yet he cuddled that beast every night, curled up in silk sheets like a baby returning to the womb. And left me freezing on the edge of the master bedroom. I couldn't stand it anymore. At our son Luca's first-year baptism, I announced I wanted out. Everyone went numb with shock. Sal grabbed a glass of red wine and threw it in my face. "You're jealous of a stuffed animal? Have you lost your fucking mind?" I wiped the wine from my cheek, cold as ice. "You say you want to spend your life with that beast. I'm giving you my blessing."

Seven days before my wedding, my younger sister got dumped. Crying, she smashed my rose bouquet and tore apart my rose-printed wedding invitations, saying that seeing roses made her fall apart. That very night, Mom canceled my wedding. “Your sister can’t handle any more emotional triggers right now. Put the wedding off for a while.” Dad transferred the money I had saved for our honeymoon to my sister and let her go on a trip to relax. My older brother tried to persuade me, too. “You can get married anytime. Your sister can’t be left alone right now.” Ever since we were children, they had always asked me to wait. My eighteenth birthday party was canceled because my sister couldn’t get the gemstone necklace she wanted. The celebration party for my admission to Harvard University was canceled because my sister hadn’t done well on her exams. And now, what they wanted to cancel was my wedding. I looked at the petals scattered all over the floor and suddenly smiled. “Fine. Then cancel it.” My fiancé, Don Edward, sent me a message. “Are you going to wait for them again?” I stared at those words before slowly replying: “No.”

I walked away from the luxury of a top mafia family, hiding the fact that I was the daughter of the Newman family Don, just to stay by my boyfriend Joren’s side. I watched him climb from a low-level enforcer to a Don. He once promised that when he finally had the power to give me the world, he would propose. So, on the day of his celebration banquet, completely full of hope, I walked into the hall wearing a white wedding dress. My head was spinning with all the surprises he might have planned. Maybe a stunning pink diamond, or a walkway covered in rose petals. Instead, I saw Joren with his arm wrapped tight around his secretary, Chloe. They were practically joined at the hip, looking every bit the power couple. A guest teased him, "Is the gorgeous lady beside you the mystery girlfriend?" I thought he would shut it down. He just gave a wicked smirk and said absolutely nothing. Amidst the roaring cheers of the crowd, I resolutely slipped off our couple's ring, dropped it into a champagne flute, and strode out without looking back. I remembered Joren telling me that to protect me from the vicious dangers of his world, we had to keep our relationship a secret. But now, he was perfectly fine sharing his glory with another woman in public. A man like that wasn't worth another ounce of my love.

When I was three months pregnant, my Don husband’s so-called step sister, Ruby, showed up at my door. Her swollen belly was impossible to miss, “Donna, since my due date is so close, I thought you should know… the Don’s heir is in my belly.” She laid everything in front of me—intimate photos of her and Caleb, records of the weekly money transfers he sent her, even the deed to a mansion. The earliest dates traced back to the time I lost our first baby, when the doctors told me it would be difficult for me to conceive again. All these years, I had been enduring IVF treatments, desperately trying to carry our child once more—while he was fooling around with his so-called step sister. Well, if Caleb wanted another woman so badly, he could have her. I had no intention of staying anyway. I was already planning my leave.

My mysterious mafia boyfriend has only one weakness. He is hearing-impaired and often misunderstands what I say. When I told him about the necklace I wanted, the next day he showed up with two sets of the same necklace. When I asked him why, he casually replied. “I misheard again. We can give the extra one to Stacy.” When I asked him to book two tickets for the Archaeological Museum, he secured two tickets for the horse racing show. “I misheard you. Stacy loves betting on horses—let me take her there with me instead.” Stacy was his new assistant to handle all his hideous business. Also, the only assistant who managed to remain in service for more than six months and the only constant name that echoed in our bedroom. It continued until I meticulously planned the anniversary celebration that was supposed to be a private party for the two of us. I invited him to spend the night with me, but he showed up with Stacy instead, saying, “Sorry, I misheard and thought you wanted her to join.” Noticing my silence throughout the celebration, he apologized once again. “I really couldn't hear clearly. I thought you liked to share our happiness with more people, so I brought her without thinking.” He clearly knew I disliked the idea of a grand celebration or showing our private moment to his employees, yet he tagged her along and talked like it was supposed to make me happier. Since he so often 'can't understand' what I say, then perhaps we don't need to continue anymore. “Enzo Watson…” I called his name with absolute calm, “Let’s break up.”

My husband, Vincent Moretti, had a nightmare. In the dream, he'd had a one-night stand at a hotel with a young woman who had a tragic past and no family. When I found out he'd cheated, I tricked him into signing divorce papers and faked my death to escape. Then I vanished from his life for good. After that dream, the Don whose word had once been law in New York became a different man. Every time he went out, he sent me three location updates. Even a warehouse inspection meant getting on a video call with me to prove there were no women around. I laughed and told him he was overreacting. Then, at our third-anniversary dinner, I went into shock after eating the dessert a server had brought me. When I opened my eyes, Lia Romano, the nun Vincent had once rescued, was standing beside my hospital bed. "I'm sorry, Eve. I didn't mean to..." Everyone there thought she was finished. A maid had once left a jar of hazelnut spread on the dining table. The next day, he'd had her thrown into the sea to feed the sharks. This time, he only frowned. "Eve, she didn't mean any harm." "I almost died from that allergy! Vincent! Get her out of my sight!" He was quiet for a long time. Finally, he nodded. That night, I got a text from an unknown number. "Tonight. The Queen's Hotel." "Sweetheart, will you join me for the fireworks? Let me make it up to you." My friends teased me, saying he spoiled me like a princess. I forgot all about that ridiculous dream. Until I opened the hotel room door and saw something I couldn't believe. Lia, who was supposed to have been driven out of New York, was kissing my husband. And he was kissing her back.

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

Because of the death of his first love, Don Stefano Giullani has hated me for eight years. During those eight years, I make every effort to please him—I broker arms deals for him, handle smuggling routes, and even take bullets meant for him. Even when he sees me barely clinging to life, Stefano only says, "If you really wanted to please me, you should have let the bullet hit somewhere fatal." I press my hand over the wound and stare deeply at him. Later, on the night our enemies surround the casino and it's raining bullets, Stefano pushes me away from him. He's riddled with bullets himself while saving me. Before he dies, he shields me and gets me safely into the car. Once the car door closes, he says softly, "In the next life, I don't want to meet you again." After Stefano dies, his Madre slaps me hard across the face. "Why wasn't it you who died? If I had known it would come to this, I would have let him marry Lucia! "It's all my fault for forcing him to marry you. You deserve to die!" She slaps me again, causing me to lose my footing and fall into the sea. Everyone just stands on the boat, watching in silence. Seawater fills my nose, and when I open my eyes again, I find myself reborn eight years into the past—to the day before Stefano and I are about to get married. This time, I will do as he wishes. I'll stop clinging to him. I'll allow him and Lucia to be together.

After learning that I am the Moretti family's adopted daughter, I go from Brogary's most spoiled mafia heiress to the most obedient puppet. When my sister, Victoria Moretti, wants my jewelry, I hand it over without a second thought. When she ruins my coming-of-age party, I don't even flinch. Even when she blushes and tells me she has fallen in love with my fiance, Enzo Vitale, all I manage is a flat, resigned, "Okay". But the next day, Enzo corners me against a wall in the garage. His eyes are bloodshot, and his voice is hoarse. "How did you become like this? Just because you're an adopted daughter, you're willing to give me up… to someone else?" I look at him, unable to tell if he is being sincere. After all, he is the one who forged the DNA test report and adoption papers to prove I'm not a real Moretti.

Seven years into our engagement, Riccardo Mazzoni turns our wedding into a mock divorce ceremony as some kind of sick joke. Instead of screaming or throwing a fit, I simply stand there, calm and silent. And just like that, I'm completely done with him. His men all around us erupt in laughter. "Elena Leone, the Don is just messing with you. You're not actually mad, are you?" I don't say a word. The laughter dies down, and the church becomes dead silent. Riccardo drops his smirk, walks up to me, and gently strokes my cheek. "What's wrong, Elena? Are you really mad?" As I look up to meet his gaze, I suddenly remember the conversation I overheard between him and his men last night. "Don Mazzoni, are you really going through with this? Aren't you afraid Elena will leave you if you make a fool out of her?" Riccardo lets out a scoff. "I promised Sofia Coppola I'd prank Elena at our wedding. Once the prank is over, I'll make it up to Elena with the most extravagant wedding imaginable. "She's been with me for seven years. We love each other too much for her to leave me." Right now, I just stare at him. I then tear off my veil. "A divorce ceremony, huh? Then by all means, continue."