Mafia Mafia Short Stories & Novels

I took the fall for my husband over an illegal arms deal and spent three years in federal prison. By the time I got out, he already had a child with another woman. On the day of the christening, I calmly handed him divorce papers. Everyone said I had lost my mind—that I was declaring war on the Nelli family. I was perfectly clear-headed. Before I went in, my husband, Silvio Nelli, held my hand and swore he would never betray me as long as he lived. But the night before my release, I dreamed that he wiped out the Thorne family for that woman and took everything I had. I died beside my parents' bodies while he held that woman's child. In the end, he was the only one who came out ahead. Now the child from my dream was real. I wasn't going to wait for the nightmare to come true. I would take back everything my three years in prison had bought him. Then I'd make him pay in blood.

On the yacht heading to an island for our wedding, the lower deck suddenly comes under attack by a rival mafia family. A shrill alarm rings across the sea as the yacht tilts violently, sending me crashing against the deck. I press one hand against my barely visible pregnant belly and cling to the railing with the other. Thankfully, I manage to stop myself from going overboard. But my fiance, Don Arturo Venturi, immediately pulls Elena Donati into his arms. With the yacht about to sink, the Soldati shout for everyone to put on life jackets and jump overboard, then swim to the lifeboats. I finally get my hands on the last life jacket, only for Arturo to snatch it away. He puts it on Elena and quickly explains, "Elena can't swim. She needs it more." I have no choice but to cling to a flotation device and fight to stay afloat until a Soldato pulls me from the water. The disappointment weighs so heavily on my chest that I can't even cry. Once I reach the dock, I slip into the crowd and block Arturo on every form of contact.

I was Liliana Moretti, daughter of one of Black Harbor's mafia families. I had always been gentle, soft-spoken, and afraid of almost everything. I would not even touch a gun. My sister was the exact opposite. Alessandra Moretti was everything I wasn't—smart, capable, bloodthirsty, and ruthless. Once she drew a gun, she never missed. Every mafia family in Black Harbor feared Alessandra. At 22, she took 12 men and seized back Pier Seven, a territory half the city had been fighting over. Three years later, our family's territory had doubled. Even our father knew when to shut up around her. One look from Alessandra was enough. Then she died. Four years later, my father's illegitimate daughter, Gianna Russo, moved into Alessandra's rooms and began taking what was mine. My two daughters had been killed. My father was already forcing me to give up my charity fund, my seat on the family council, and the east-wing suite. My husband, Vincent Bellini, didn't care. There was nothing left for me in that house. Alessandra's portrait was gone from the wall. Gianna sat in her chair, dressed in my daughters' favorite color. Tomorrow, she would officially become a Moretti. My father wanted everything I owned. My brother, Luca Moretti, accused me of betraying the peace Alessandra had died for. And when I finally found evidence about my daughters' deaths, Vincent looked at it and put my phone away. When I had lost all hope, Alessandra came back.

The old Don was killed in an ambush by a rival crew. At the mass, Vito, the new Don, stood at the very front of the church. I'd rushed back from a job and barely made it. There were only two spots left in the church. One was right next to the new Don. The seat for his wife. The other was at the very end of the guest line. I figured, without even thinking about it, that the spot beside him was mine. So I walked straight toward Vito. But he looked right past me. "Sofia." He lifted his chin, just slightly. "Come up." Around me, the family elders and the heads of the different crews started whispering. "The next Don's wife is a beautiful woman." "Look at those two. They just fit." Vito took the gilded crest plate from the altar and placed it in Sofia's hands. I turned around and walked to the very end of the line. Stood there. Didn't say a word. The entire service, he never once looked back at me. Even the small life growing inside me felt like a cruel joke right now. Maybe it was time to leave. Me and my unborn child.

For the past ten years, all of Boston society had been guessing whether I would end up marrying Alexander Grant, Nathan Cole, or Julian Vale. One of them took care of every problem that came my way. One remembered every allergy I had. One built me an observatory with a view of the whole city. I never once doubted that I was loved. I had always been the spoiled little princess everyone doted on. Then my mother found her older daughter, Vivian Ashford, who had been missing for twenty-two years. Vivian was the one expected to marry into Black Harbor for the Ashford family. To make up for the life she had lost, the three men started asking me to give up a little at a time. Alexander missed the fitting he had promised to come to, because Vivian needed the practice in front of the cameras more than I did. Nathan canceled the follow-up on my old injury because Vivian had a panic attack when she heard about the medical exam before the wedding. Julian booked the entire observatory to make up for my birthday, then, while I sat there alone until closing, sent me a text that read, "You're the sensible one. Go home by yourself tonight." When I got back to the estate, I asked them why none of them had told me beforehand. But Vivian cried and said she didn't want to be the reason they lost me. So Alexander stepped in front of her, Nathan told me to stop upsetting her, and Julian said I shouldn't be using one broken promise to test whether they loved me. As I turned to leave, I heard them making a pact in that room. "Until the engagement is settled, no more coddling Evelyn." "She'll be angry." "She'll sulk for a few days and get over it. She could never bring herself to leave us for real." They weren't wrong. Back then, I really couldn't bring myself to leave. What they didn't know was that I had already let go, and I was never coming back.

Three months into our marriage, I was cooking dinner when I noticed that every plate, bowl, and cup in the house was smaller than standard dinnerware. That slight difference mattered. Every time I lifted a bowl or wrapped my hand around a cup, I had to adjust my grip to the tighter curve. I held up two bowls of different sizes and asked Damian Moretti why. He said they had simply been custom-made for the Family. That night, a torrential downpour left me stranded at the station after I finished handling Family business. Across the street, inside a restaurant, Damian held a bite of steak to the lips of the young woman opposite him, then gently wiped the sauce from the corner of her mouth. The young woman was the Family's new secretary. One look at the custom dinnerware in front of her, and I understood everything. So that smaller size had been designed for her. I checked my phone. "It's pouring. My old wrist injury is acting up, and I can't hold an umbrella. Can you come get me?" I had sent that message three hours ago. Nothing had come back. He never let me ride in his private armored car or appear at his side at society dinners. In public, he always kept his distance. "As Don, I have to keep my public and private lives separate. The Donna can't draw too much attention, or my men will talk." He held to those boundaries of his so faithfully. It turned out the boundaries only applied to some people. Through the rain, I saw a small plaque on the front passenger seat: CECE ONLY. And suddenly, I no longer wanted to stay in this marriage.

My twin sister and I were supposed to celebrate our succession on the same night. Beth Moretti would inherit the family's weapons business in Naples. Her portrait towered over the banquet hall on a massive screen as the elders gathered around her, showering her with praise. Our parents, Vincent Moretti and Elena Moretti, couldn't have looked prouder. "Beth has always been exceptional. She was at the top of her class, won countless awards, and was already managing the family stables at eighteen." I stood alone in the corner, completely ignored. By the time anyone remembered me, the gala was almost over. One of the elders happened to spot me. "What about Monica? What will she be taking over?" My parents froze. For a moment, neither of them had an answer. Beth gave a small laugh. "Nothing important, I think?" Everyone laughed with her. I kept quiet. I had apparently been put in charge of the family armory, though no one had even bothered to tell me themselves. My father finally looked my way. "At least she stays out of trouble. That's good enough." Of course I stayed out of trouble. They had sent me to boarding school when I was four and left me to grow up on my own. I learned early how to take care of myself because no one else would. During school breaks, my parents would take Beth on vacation while I stayed behind. To them, I had always been the daughter they could forget. So yes, I was easy. I had learned a long time ago not to expect anything from them. After the gala, I went looking for my family. They were nowhere to be found. Then I learned they had already gone home with Beth. I took a deep breath, pulled up the Turner family's invitation from two months ago, and typed, "I accept." Then I booked the earliest flight out. This family had forgotten me for years. Now they could forget me for good.

My 30th birthday. My childhood friend, Jax, told me to meet him at Chicago City Hall. “Wear the custom wedding dress. Bring your ID.” He promised me a surprise I’d never forget. But when I got there, he just casually lifted his cigar to his rich friends. “See? She actually wore the wedding dress. Pay up. The limited-edition Aston Martin is mine.” Then, he turned to me. “Clara. It was a joke. You didn’t take it seriously, did you?” I said nothing. He was so sure of himself. No matter what he did, I was his little shadow. The girl who couldn't live without him. I’d always come crawling back, crying, begging him to marry me. His face, the one I used to love, twisted into a sneer. “If you’re that desperate to get married, go grab some homeless guy off the street. See if anyone wants you. Don’t worry. I’ll party a few more years. Then maybe I’ll be generous and keep the fiancée spot open for you.” The crowd of men and women behind him erupted in laughter. They laughed at me. The parasite Jax couldn't shake. The idiot waiting for him to throw me a bone. But when I walked out on the arm of my new husband—a literal Mafia Don—and flashed a very real marriage certificate, Jax’s face went dead white.

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.

Nine years ago, my family used me to pay off their debts. That was how I ended up married to the most dangerous man in the Rivoli underworld, Vincenzo Casanova. Everyone said I was lucky. My family was ruined, and I was its last heir. Marrying Vincenzo was supposed to be my one chance at a new life. I believed them. I thought if I played my part and never caused trouble, our marriage might actually last. I was wrong. At our ninth anniversary party, Vincenzo walked into the ballroom hand in hand with his secretary, Chiara Moretti. Chiara was all smiles, one hand resting on her belly. She announced that she was pregnant with Vincenzo's child. With Rivoli's most powerful families watching, Vincenzo turned to the housekeeper. "Move Donna's things out of the primary bedroom. My firstborn deserves the best of everything." I slipped off the family ring I had worn for nine years and walked out. Some laughed at me. Some pitied me. Others started taking bets on how long I'd last. Vincenzo laughed and put thirty million dollars on the table. His bet? I'd come crawling back to him within three days. Until that night, I hadn't decided whether to give his rival the secret files detailing the Casanova shipping routes. That settled it. He thought I'd spent nine years learning to be the perfect Donna. He had no idea I'd spent those same nine years learning how to bring a don to his knees. That night, our nine-year marriage contract expired. And I finally came to collect everything the Casanovas owed me.

Enzo De Luca and I had loved each other for ten years. My family used its ports to make him underboss. Everyone assumed that when he took over the De Luca family, I would become his wife. But after Marco Rizzo, one of Enzo's capos, took a bullet for him, Enzo moved the daughter of the man who had saved his life, Bianca Rizzo, into the estate as his private secretary and postponed signing our marriage contract nine times in a row. Ninety-nine days after the first postponement, I received not a marriage contract, but an alliance dissolution agreement. Bianca wept that she had simply chosen the wrong template. Enzo still defended her. "Her father died for me. If you want to marry me, handle the paperwork yourself." I signed the alliance dissolution request in front of him and messaged my father. [Withdraw every form of support the Moretti family gives Enzo.] [I don't want this man anymore.] Enzo did not stop me. He thought I could never walk away from those ten years. He had no idea I had decided to marry the one man he feared most, Don Matteo Russo.

If two people are truly in love, the women of the Cattaneo family can hear their beloved's innermost thoughts. Because I could hear the thoughts of Don Enzo, I was once certain that we were in love. With this gift, I perfected every aspect of being his wife and the lady of the Family. But the day my sister Sophia returned, all I heard was a single thought: "You're back..." His voice was full of love and wistful longing. After that, I could never hear his complete thoughts again. It meant the love between us was dying. Only then did I understand why he never went to France when we traveled abroad. Sophia had been living there, and he was afraid seeing me would break her heart. He had my dog sent away because my sister didn't like it. Then kidnappers took both me and my sister, but would only allow one of us to be ransomed. After a brief hesitation, he said, "I choose Sophia." At the same moment, I heard his thoughts: "I'm sorry..." My lips twitched. I closed my eyes. The kidnappers rushed over and kicked me. "Damn it. Good thing we grabbed a spare. She's the actual wife, and he still won't pay for her." A kick landed on my stomach. Searing pain tore through my lower abdomen, and everything started to go dark. Blood pooled beneath me. My lips trembled. "Mommy's sorry, baby... this was all my fault..." I had actually believed three years of marriage could warm his heart. The man and the place at his side had never been mine. I was done fighting for either.

On the day of our engagement, Richard Bennett left the country with his secretary, Sonia Hale. All he left behind was his illegitimate baby and a text message. "This deal will make or break my company. You're a housewife, Freya. There's nothing you can do to help. Take good care of the son Sonia and I had. When I come back, I'll marry you." I deleted his number and went back to my mafia family. I sent the baby to a foster agency overseas without leaving my name. Then, at my father's request, I married William Corvino, the young Don of the Corvino family. Three years later, Richard came back and started his new company. Apparently, he'd spent all three years looking for me. He finally found me when I went back to my old house. He cornered me in the backyard and flashed a black credit card. "Freya, I have a company now. We'll go public next year. "The past three years must've been hard on you. I've come to take you home. "Sonia spent three years abroad helping me build the company, and she gave me a son. "I owe her a lot. You don't mind if she stays with us for a while, right?" I didn't answer. Richard took my silence as a yes and reached for my waist. "I knew you'd understand. You can take care of the house and the baby. Sound good?" So that was his plan. He wanted me to be their live-in maid. I stepped away before he could touch me, not bothering to hide my disgust. "I've been married for years. Get lost or I'll kill you."

In my last life, everyone in Leighton knew I was destined to marry Roman Falcone. Five allied families each sent an unmarried man, but everyone knew the other four were just there to make up the numbers. After all, I'd loved Roman and no one else since I was seventeen. Then my father died. Piece by piece, the Caruso empire fell into Roman's hands. Then I caught him with Marietta Conti in my father's study. I discovered my father hadn't died of natural causes. I fled with the evidence, but Roman's men hunted me down and killed me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I had to choose my husband. Roman still stood there, holding out his hand to me. Only this time, I walked right past him and stopped in front of the mute illegitimate son of the Vieri family. I placed the ring in Elio Vieri's palm. "I choose him."

The day Lily Bianchi returned from abroad, the Don Dario Moretti threw a street race in her honor. She was the woman he valued most. He ordered me to race, even though my old injuries hadn't healed. The wound on my arm tore open, and I lost control of the steering wheel. The car slammed head-on into a boulder. Pain ripped through me. When Dario drove past, he instinctively slowed down for a moment. Lily, riding shotgun, immediately rested a hand on Dario's shoulder. "Dario, why on earth did Lucia crash into the mountainside? Is it because you let me ride with you? She got jealous and hurt herself just to get your attention." Dario scoffed. "Nobody help her. She'll live. "Anyone who takes her to the hospital gets sent to the border for hard labor." With that, he sped off in pursuit of first place without looking back, Lily at his side and dust swirling behind them. He raised Lily's hand in triumph, floored the gas pedal, and crossed the finish line cheering. The drivers behind him glanced over at me. None of them dared disobey Dario's orders. All they could do was slow down when Dario wasn't looking and toss first-aid bandages through my car window. A few of the veteran guards quietly got out of their cars to help stop the bleeding. Their hands were gentle, their eyes full of sympathy. Dario didn't send anyone to take me to the hospital until nightfall. When I woke up, the first thing I did was reach for my phone. Six hours had passed since the accident, but there was only one message from him. "Stop playing dead. Be back by six, or you know what happens." I set the phone down, my throat tight. Dario cared about many things: money, power, Lily. Everything except me. Eventually, I stopped hoping for his love. It wasn't until I died before his eyes that he went mad with regret.

After five years with Dante Moretti, the Don, I was finally pregnant. We were finally going to get married. Then a sudden shootout cost me the baby. As I lay in the hospital, Dante held my hand. "Vivian, don't be sad. I promise we'll have another baby." Three days later, Dante brought another woman home. He proposed to her and gave her everything that was supposed to be mine. Then came their wedding day. That was the day I walked out on the Moretti family, leaving every last one of them to regret what they'd done.

Because my little sister Sofia loved playing games of chance, everything in our family was decided by drawing lots. Dinner. School events. New clothes. Even Mom and Dad’s hugs and kisses. Mother kept colored wooden sticks inside a small box. Draw gold, and you won. Draw black, and Sofia got whatever we were competing for. For ten years, I drew black every single time. Mother said she created the game to treat us equally. Whenever I cried or said it wasn’t fair, she told me to stop blaming everyone else for my bad luck. So I practiced every night, shaking the box and listening to the sticks move inside, convinced that one day I would finally draw gold and earn my parents’ love. I never did. On my thirteenth birthday, Sofia wanted the whole family to go to an amusement park. Terrified they would leave me behind again, I secretly painted one of the black sticks gold. Mother caught me. She slapped me, called me a cheat, and left with Sofia. I fell, and one of the wooden sticks pierced my throat. I’m sorry, Mom. If there’s a next life, I’ll try harder to draw the gold stick.

I had been secretly dating my brother’s best friend, the heir to the Moretti family, for seven years, and I was planning to propose to him at the family banquet. Following his location, I found him at a drinking party, only to overhear their laughter through a crack in the private room door. “Vito, your Cinderella is back. What are you planning to do with the little stand-in?” The room fell silent for a few seconds. Then another underboss sneered. “Vito’s got some nerve. You even dared to touch the most beloved princess of the current Sicilian Mafia Don. Now that you’ve had your fill of sweetness, Lucia has come back…” “She left so heartlessly back then. She deserved to be pissed off with a replacement!” The next day, Vito took me to Lucia’s welcome-back banquet, putting on an extravagant show of affection for me. But when Lucia rushed into the rain with tears in her eyes, he shoved me aside and chased after her in a panic. Covered in soup stains and burns, I went home and opened the secret door he had never allowed me to enter. Photographs of him and Lucia, once inseparable, covered the desk. My heart turned to ash as I picked up the encrypted line to my brother in Sicily. “Brother, I’ve thought it over. About the arranged marriage in Chicago—I agree!”

When an attacker threw acid at my face, Mom was attending my cousin Celeste's family induction ceremony. But that day was my eighteenth birthday too. As I lay dying, I used the last of my strength to send her a voice message. [Mom, help me... I'm on the West Side. Someone is trying to kill me.] Her reply came almost immediately. [Stop using these tricks to compete with Celeste for attention, Emilia. I know exactly what you're like.] That same night, the Don summoned Mom back to the Romano estate to investigate an unidentified body found on family territory. The victim's face had been destroyed. Chemicals had eaten away the fingerprints on both hands. Mom led the security team through three days and nights of investigation. From the evidence, she concluded that the victim had been tortured for hours and had died fighting, terrified and utterly without hope. She cursed the killer's cruelty and swore she would make him pay. But she never recognized the body lying in front of her as the biological daughter she hated to mention. Me.