Tragic Love Mafia Short Stories & Mistress Novels

In order to help my family take over the Vitales' casino that's based in North Melcina, I conceal my identity as the sole daughter of Don Leonardo Ricci and begin working as a dealer in Las Vogis. During my undercover mission, I get close to Mattia Vitale, the heir of the Vitales, on purpose. At the same time, I secretly get my hands on the Vitales' weak points. Not only does Mattia not realize my intentions, but he also showers me with love and affection. He doesn't hesitate to gift me jewelry worth millions of dollars. Sometimes, he surprises me with fireworks worth tens of millions of dollars. In fact, he once burns a contract worth a hundred million dollars just to light my cigarette. As I stand under the sky filled with fireworks in Las Vogis, I hear my heart pounding wildly in my chest. Hence, I reject my dad's decision to devour the Vitale family. I thought I finally found true love. But lately, Mattia hasn't been coming home that much now. He also grows colder toward me. In fact, he even announces to everyone else that I'm just his personal assistant at his family gathering. His excuse for hiding our relationship is that he's worried his family elders might target me. But what he doesn't know is that when he almost lost his net worth at the gambling table, I was the one who secretly swapped the cards, allowing him to make a victorious comeback. I plan on telling Mattia the truth on his birthday, and I've already drafted a business deal between my family and his as a surprise for him. But I end up witnessing Mattia being entangled with another woman from my position outside his office. That woman is Ginevra Bellini, the heiress of the Bellini family, a nouveau riche family that has earned their gold from real estate in North Melcina. The Bellinis are as wealthy and powerful as the Vitales, so to the Vitales, Ginevra is the most perfect and suitable marriage partner to Mattia. So, it turns out that Mattia has already labelled his love accordingly. I'm just the bargaining chip that he has chosen to discard after weighing the pros and cons. With a sneer on my face, I toss the contract into the shredder. Then, I call my dad's number. "Do it, Dad. Let's devour the Vitales."

On my birthday, I go out to eat with my family. I make a wish, hoping that we will always stay happily together. When I open my eyes, I see my son, Luigi Marino, holding up his tablet. On the screen, a line of text reads, "Dad, Maria says she's pregnant with your baby. Am I going to get a new mom?" Giovanni Marino is busy taking pictures of me with a Polaroid. He glances at the screen casually before writing a reply on the back of the photo. "No. I made a promise with your mom. If either of us betrays the other, we will have to disappear from the other's life forever. I can't live without your mom. So, you have to help me keep this from her. Even if Maria's baby is born, they will never appear in front of your mom." After writing that, he looks at me and asks in a gentle voice, "What's wrong, my love? Why are your eyes red? Did the smoke from the candles irritate them?" My tears are about to fall, but I force a smile and reply, "I'm fine. The birthday gift you all prepared for me is wonderful. I'm so touched that I can't help but cry." He doesn't know that my dyslexia was cured a week ago. It seems I no longer have to hesitate about the job offer from a well-known international nonprofit that teaches children with dyslexia how to read. The paperwork will be done in seven days. When that time comes, I will disappear from their world completely.

04:00 AM. JFK International Airport. I switched off airplane mode, and my phone lit up. The first notification was an Instagram story from my husband, Donovan Valentino, Don of the Valentino family, posted at 3:30 AM: a photo of Seraphina Moretti’s back, captioned, “Run 50 completed. Package delivered safe.” An hour before that, my flight had hit catastrophic clear-air turbulence, dropping two thousand feet in seconds. I’d clung to my seatbelt until my knuckles turned white, the crumpled threat letter from a rival crew pressed like a blade against my ribs. In those blind, falling seconds, one thought burned through the panic: If I live through this—if Donovan is waiting at arrivals—I’ll tear up my transfer papers to Dubai and stay. But there were no missed calls. No messages. He’d been too busy collecting Seraphina. He knew my flight details. He just didn’t care. Four years of marriage. 50 fully armed security details for Seraphina. For my 112 long-haul flights over those same four years? The most I ever got was a driver in an unmarked sedan. Even the night Gambino’s crew tailed me from Manhattan, and I spent six hours locked in a diner bathroom. He didn’t pick up until dawn, after the twelfth try. My transfer to Dubai was confirmed. The signed divorce settlement was in my bag. This was the last time I’d ever come back for him.

I tried to die a hundred times to make him notice me. For two years, I was Shawn Scott’s wife in name only—an unwanted bride bound by a scandal, left to live in the shadow of another woman. My parents only saw my faults. My husband only saw my mistakes. As for me? I saw no way out. Every time I tried to end it, I’d wake up again, bruised and humiliated. I was greeted not with concern, but accusations such as "Why are you so selfish, Zoe Jennings?" or "Why can’t you be more like your sister Yvonne?" It wasn’t until my hundredth suicide attempt that I finally understood: I was the only one fighting for a love that never existed. So, I stopped. I walked away. I disappeared. I gave them what they wanted—my absence. However, when I left, the man who never looked at me twice started chasing the ghost of the woman he thought he knew. By the time he realized what he truly lost, I was already learning how to live again.

Three days before my wedding with Luca D'Angelo, I accidentally stumble upon him having an affair with my best friend, Delila Rusconi. Delila can be seen sitting on Luca's lap in his office. She caresses his chin in a seductive manner. "Delila, I told you before that Katerina must never find out about our affair!" Luca pinches Delila's fingers together, his voice carrying a strong hint of warning. Delila just giggles before kissing his hand. She replies flippantly, "I know, I know. You have no choice but to marry her in order to gain control over the coastal port trades. I completely understand." I inhale sharply before fleeing the scene in panic. Tears brim in my eyes instantly. I can't believe that Luca, the man who's loved and doted on me for three whole years, has chosen to marry me solely just to make more profits despite the fact that we only get to know each other because of a marriage alliance. The future plans I have in store for us, as well as my rose-tinted fantasies about romance, are completely shattered because of the scene I've just witnessed. Tears continue to stream down my cheeks as I call my dad on the phone. "Papa, I'll heed your order and give up on the marriage alliance with the D'Angelos. I'll return to Chitchily in three days and carry out my responsibilities as a family member."

After I, Rosalie Ricci, was stood up 17 times, the mafia don, Daniel Marino, finally holds the perfect engagement banquet for me. In our second year together, we are ready to get married. But every single time, he has an excuse to hold our engagement off. He says he's busy with work, the timing isn't right yet, or that he isn't quite ready. I never blame him because I love him. I have loved him since our school days. In fact, I have loved him for seven whole years. This is the 18th time. I stand in the banquet hall wearing the gown he personally chose for me and watch as he slips the ring onto my finger. He kisses me with a passionate intensity he has never shown me before. At that moment, I believe that I have finally secured my perfect happiness after waiting seven long years. My happiness only lasts until the guests leave. As I step into the back garden, I see Daniel holding my twin sister, Leah Ricci, in his arms. He says in a hushed voice, "I announced my engagement to Rosalie 18 times. This time, you're finally back." That's when I realize that the engagement banquet that I have longed for is nothing more than a ploy by Daniel to draw Leah back to him. But when I decided to let them be together, Daniel panics.

By the seventh year of my cold war with my father, Don Leonardi Rossi, he finally found a way to win me over. He introduced me to the most powerful Mafia Don in southern Ritalle—Riccardo Colombo. For my happiness, my father was willing to give me half of the family's empire as a gift. I surrendered completely to Riccardo's love. Four months later, I was pregnant. Every prenatal check-up saw Bascily regions' two most influential Dons personally by my side. Everyone envied me for having two men who loved me so fiercely. Yet, on the day of my amniocentesis, they were both absent. "There's a new arms deal in the north," my father said, stroking my head. Riccardo kissed my belly gently. "I'll bring you gifts when I return." I smiled and watched them leave. But as I lay on the examination table, my phone buzzed with an anonymous video. In it, my father wore a groom's suit, standing beside Rosa—the prostitute who had infuriated my mother to death. Their illegitimate daughter, Lina, cradled her swollen belly, proudly wearing the Colombo family crest, and clung to my husband's arm. The announcer cried, "Congratulations to Don Rossi for reclaiming his one true love, and to Don Colombo for marrying his soulmate!" At the video's end, my father laughed and clinked glasses with Riccardo. "The fake crest and fake marriage certificate for Lia—you really outdid yourself. Aren't you worried she'll be heartbroken?" Riccardo snorted. "She never let Rosa into the house, leaving Lina to grow up as a bastard. This was what she owed her." So that was the truth. But when I finally left with my child for the Massimo family, why did they still regret it?

Everyone envied my marriage to Luca Moretti, the ruthless mafia king who ruled the city with blood and power. To the world, I was the one woman he would never betray. For five years, he put me above everyone else. Protected me. Chose me. Worshipped me. Until I found out even a man like him could cheat. I tricked him into signing the divorce papers and disappeared overseas, determined to cut myself out of his empire for good. But Luca refused to let me go. He used the full reach of his underworld network to find me, then begged me for another chance. He swore he had been drugged, that the other woman meant nothing, that I was the only one he had ever loved. He promised he had already cut her out of his life. And for a year, he proved it. He chased me across countries, tore down every wall I built, and in the end, he asked me to marry him again in front of the whole world. Under fireworks and a global livestream watched by millions, I said yes. I thought this time we would finally get our forever. Then I went in for a prenatal checkup… and found him with them. Sofia Romano. And the little boy. A perfect little family I was never supposed to see. In that instant, every promise he had made turned to ash. So I arranged a fatal car crash. If a divorce still wasn’t enough to escape a mafia king’s obsession, then I would vanish the only way he could never drag me back. This time, I’m not leaving alone. I’m taking our unborn child with me—and disappearing from his world forever.

Everyone said my good looks were what saved me from my family's downfall. It was how I managed to become a Donna. I was the only one who knew why he had to compromise to marry me. Xavier Whitmore, the tall and handsome Don, was unable to have physical relationships with a woman. When I shyly took off the gown on our wedding night, he sat in his chair and lit a cigarette before remarking in an icy voice, "I'm allergic to women. That said, you have my word that you will be the only woman in my life." He kept his promise. Though he never so much as touched me in the five years of our marriage, he provided me with a life of luxury and wealth. Although it was merely a title, being his only woman brought me happiness. Everything changed on the day my men and I were ambushed by a rival mafia family. We barely made it out alive. When I returned home, I found him locked in a tight embrace with his widowed sister-in-law, Alice Ortega. "Alice, I won't let you remarry. If you do, I'll make sure that man dies a thousand deaths." I scoffed. It wasn't so much that he couldn't handle being physical with a woman. It was simply that he could not be physical with anyone but her. In that case, she could have the pleasure of being the Donna.

I spent five years by Casey Fusco's side, turning him from a beggar in the slums to a mafia Don. On the second day he put on the family ring, his first love came knocking on our door with an ultrasound report. Casey pushed the divorce papers toward me with a sorry look on his face. "She's pregnant. I have to give her the position of Donna." My brethren tried to talk me out of doing something foolish, since I had nearly lost my life while trying to help him climb up the ranks. But contrary to their expectations, all I did was sign the papers calmly without making a fuss. "Congratulations on having your wish come true, Don Fusco."

Every Thanksgiving, my husband, Salvatore, brings home a showgirl from one of his clubs. He makes me kneel and serve them drinks. A lesson, he calls it, in how to please a man. This was the eighth Thanksgiving, and this time, he brought back a girl poured into a tight leather dress. "She doesn't have any decent jewelry," Salvatore announced. "Give her your heirloom diamond ring. Your grandmother's pearl earrings, too. And take off that silk choker for her." He smirked. "And listen, she's young, doesn't know the rules. You'll have to show her the ropes. Especially how to handle a man in bed." Every member of the Genovese family was watching, waiting for my humiliation. I didn't disappoint. I opened my mouth and asked Salvatore for a divorce. Salvatore let out a sharp, ugly laugh, his eyes full of contempt. "Francesca, you pull this same shit every time," he jeered. "Your act is pathetic. Even more dramatic than your performance in bed." He leaned in. "You really want to divorce me? Fine. I'll give you five million in cash if you actually walk out that door." The living room erupted in laughter. They all said I was playing hard to get, that I didn't know my place. But they didn't know. This was the 88th time I had asked for a divorce, and it was the first time I truly meant it.

After three years of marriage, I finally got pregnant—my mafia husband treated me like his queen. Every day felt like heaven, until she came back—his first love, Eloise Rosenveil. On his birthday, after answering Eloise’s usual call, he turned to me and said softly, “Darling, you’ve been working so hard carrying our child. There’ll be too many people at the party—I don’t want you to get hurt.” But that day wasn’t just his birthday. It was our one-thousandth day of marriage. So I decided to surprise him anyway. I baked a mango cake and went to the party. Only to find him playing a kissing game with Eloise, surrounded by laughter and cheers. When he rushed to explain himself, Eloise, consumed by jealousy, pushed me—and I lost the baby. With the child gone, my heart died too. Since he had always loved his first love, I decided to grant his wish and walk away. But why… why did Lawrence lose his mind searching for me everywhere after I left?

I am the woman who stays the longest by the side of mafia Don Jasper Shaw. I believe I hold a unique place in his heart. But when his beloved Rosie Hurley suffers violation and falls pregnant, everything changes. Accused of orchestrating Rosie's downfall, I become the venomous villain in their eyes. To shield Rosie from gossip, Jasper publicly claims her unborn child as his own. Meanwhile, I am branded a depraved woman, defiled and discarded. Desperate, I reveal my own pregnancy to Jasper, pleading for our child’s future. He dismisses it as a ploy for attention. When I confront him, his words cut deep. "This is the sin you must atone for. Rosie has always been raised like a princess, and she can't endure the whispers—not like you." For the first time, I realize I am nothing to Jasper but a tool for his desires. Rosie locks me in a cramped cellar, where I suffocate and die. My body lies undiscovered for a month. When Jasper receives the call to identify my corpse, he brushes it off, prioritizing Rosie's prenatal checkup. "Amara's lies are piling up. So what if she's dead? Cremate her and then talk to me." My body enters the furnace and is reduced to a handful of ashes. Later, the mighty Jasper Shaw kneels and sobs uncontrollably. He begs for just one glimpse of me.

All of Italy knew Kayson Moretti was obsessed with me. He was the untouchable Don of the Moretti family, a man who never lost control in public, yet he broke every rule for me. He declared his love at a gathering of the most powerful mafia families in the country, then bought an entire private island just to build me a glass-domed garden when he proposed. For years, he laid the world at my feet—power, jewels, territory, status. If I wanted something, Kayson didn’t promise it. He made it mine. That was why everyone believed I was the luckiest woman in Italy. They were wrong. Because the same man who swore he would die for me was sleeping with his private secretary behind my back. Worse, he got her pregnant. The day she sent me her ultrasound, their bed photos, and every intimate secret she thought would destroy me, I didn’t cry. I didn’t beg. I didn’t confront him. Instead, I erased every trace I had ever left in his world. My name. My accounts. My records. My past. I staged my death. I let the world believe I had died in a private jet crash.

At the Colonetti family banquet in New York, I stood in the center of the grand hall with more than a dozen girls from different families, all of us waiting to be chosen. Victor, the heir of the Colonetti family, was supposed to announce his fiancée tonight. Along with that announcement, he would present her with the family heirloom, a lily brooch. As an illegitimate daughter of the family, I understood that if I didn’t receive that brooch tonight, it meant I would be sent to Chicago for an arranged marriage. Victor, who had once promised to marry me, changed his mind without warning. With a smile, he pinned the lily brooch onto the chest of the woman standing beside me instead. Then, he leaned close to my ear and whispered, “Let your sister Emily have her moment today. She’s also an illegitimate daughter like you, and she’s also never been valued growing up. Don’t worry. With me here, no one will force you into an arranged marriage.” Even as I looked at him with pleading eyes, he reached out and let Emily take his arm. “Emily is kind and gracious,” he said. “She deserves the lily brooch.” Those words—kind and gracious—turned me into the joke of the entire evening. The next day, I boarded a flight to Chicago alone, but Victor panicked. He used every connection he had and managed to ground every flight heading to Chicago.

In my past life, Killian cut off all his mistresses and spoiled me rotten, doing everything to win my hand in marriage. But the day before our wedding, I overheard him boasting to his friends. "Killian, that orphan girl you supported is still clinging to you. She's younger and prettier than your fiancée. Are you really not tempted?" Killian curled his lip in disdain, "What is she even? She isn't even fit to lick my wife's toes. Tell her to get lost." His words sent a rush of euphoria through me. He had told me himself that financing Vivienne Moore was merely a strategic move to bolster my charity foundation. At that moment, I truly believed I had found my happily ever after. But on the wedding day, the orphan girl drove her car straight into me. She sobbed and pulled out a terminal diagnosis. "Killian, I don't have much time left. I beg you. Don't abandon me, please!" I got injured in a collision and pleaded with Killian to take me to the hospital first, but he scooped her up in his arms without a second glance. "Sierra, I need to take Vivienne abroad for medical treatment. If I were her husband, it would be way easier for me to get stuff done. We have to get a divorce first. I’m sorry.” I stared at him, my eyes widening in sheer shock. He kept going, his voice stead, “I promise I'll come back and marry you in five years. Just wait for me.” Five years turned into ten, and I waited for him in vain, nothing more than a fool. It wasn't until I was on my deathbed that I received his letter, "I'm sorry, Sierra. I'll marry you in the next life." I tore the letter to shreds and died of sheer rage. Yet, when I opened my eyes again, I was back on my wedding day. I calmly gazed after Killian as they faded into the throng. Then, without hesitation, I turned around and boarded a plane to Switzerland.

I was the odd one out in the Chicago mob. Other men's women spent their time fighting for affection, clawing for power, watching out for the homewreckers. Not me. I spent mine cleaning up after my boyfriend, Don Vincent Maro. His political rivals — I squared away. His brother's messes — I handled overnight. The women he kept on the side — I dealt with personally. Last month it got worse. He asked me to go chase off a man who'd been hanging around Sofia, his new girl. Sofia pouted. "Elena really can do everything." Vincent said, "That's why I keep her around." Sofia asked, "Won't Elena be upset?" Vincent paused. "Her? She's used to it." Seven years. No title in the Maro family. No public acknowledgment. Just one function — fixing things. This time, I was tired. I slid the last stack of documents across to Vincent. He signed them one after another without looking up. When he was done, he asked: Anything else? I said: No. It's all handled. What he didn't know was that at the bottom of that stack was the document terminating every identity I held inside the Maro family. The moment his pen touched that page, I no longer belonged to the Maros. And I no longer belonged to him.

I saved my husband, Raffaello, the Don of the mafia, from the hands of a rival family. In return, he forced me to kneel before his childhood sweetheart, Sofia, and bark like a dog just to cheer her up. Our son, Lorenzo, wandered into the family's chemical plant out of childish curiosity, so I dragged him out with my own hands. Only for him to look me in the eye and said that I wasn't worthy of being his mother. What my husband didn't know was that when the assassins came for him, I had deliberately drew them away, letting them capture me instead. They had injected a virus into body, which burned my throat and destroyed my voice forever. What my son didn't know either was that inside the chemical plant where I rescued him, I had inhaled an overwhelming amount of toxic powder, which later caused me to have severe asthma. That night, when my asthma flared up and my lungs began to fail, I used what little strength I had left to call my husband. He impatiently rebuked me, "Grace, stop bothering me for once. A person who is really dying wouldn't make such a scene. Don't think that I don't know that you're just jealous, trying to compete with Sofia for my attention." I collapsed into the snow, greedily gasping for the final breath of air. Then, everything went still. Later, Raffaello, who never loved me lost his mind. He injected the same virus over and over again into his body, just to feel the pain I once endured. Lorenzo, who refused to acknowledge me, attempted suicide repeatedly, begging fate to trade his life for mine. But, sadly, by then, I no longer loved them.

I'd been married to Matteo—the Lamberti Don—for five years. No one knew I was his wife. I didn't want the perks. The spotlight. So I stayed invisible. We were in love. Still felt like dating every single day. Then my first day at the new hospital wrecked everything. "Dr. Accardi, you won't believe this." A coworker leaned in, grinning. "Guess who that new patient's husband is? Matteo freaking Lamberti." I froze. If she was his wife—then who was I? She was pregnant. Carrying the future Lamberti heir. So what did that make the baby inside me? I held it together. Did the exam. Played the calm, capable doctor. No one saw the panic clawing through me. I told myself it was gossip. Lies. It had to be. Then I heard Matteo call her 'my princess.' That was it. He had a new 'princess.' And I had to let him go.

When my mother went into kidney failure and needed a transplant, it was Pauline Maynard—on the brink of death herself—who gave my mom a second chance at life. Just before Pauline passed, she gripped my hand tightly and whispered her final words. "Summer, Ricky is my only son. He's rebellious… and fragile. Please, take care of him. Just three years, please?" I gave her my word. Then I moved into their home and gave Ricky everything he needed—love, comfort, a sense of safety. For three years, I stayed true to that promise. By the third year, Ricky had transformed. No longer the wayward boy he once was, he rose to become the Mafia Don Ricky Lenza. And I was carrying his child. As I busied myself with wedding plans, I overheard something I was never meant to hear—his voice, low and mocking, as he wrapped another woman in his arms. "Summer? She's just pretending to love me for the sake of my mother's inheritance and a stupid deal. A gold digger like her dreams of marrying me? What a joke." A sharp pain pierced my chest, like thorns stabbing deep beneath the skin. On the way to a prenatal checkup, we were hit in a crash. My baby didn't make it. And my mother, sitting in the passenger seat, shielded me with her life. When I woke up, I stared blankly at the date on my phone. Three days left. That would've marked the end of the three-year promise. I realized then—I'd paid my debt to Pauline in full. It was time for me to go.