Nouvelles Obsessive Mafia & Romans

Four years ago, I took three bullets for my husband, Marcus DeLuca, heir to New York's most powerful mafia family. It cost me three years in a rival family's flooded cell. They interrogated me, drugged me with hallucinogens, and starved me, trying to make me reveal the DeLuca family's accounts, warehouses, and shipping routes. Three years later, I finally escaped. At the DeLuca Foundation's charity gala, everyone was talking about Rachel Bellini. The same woman I'd slapped in public years ago after she drunkenly draped herself over my husband's shoulder. "God only knows how much Marcus has spent on Rachel over the years. Now she's even got a Golden Globe nomination." "After Sarah disappeared, she moved into the DeLuca estate." "That's not all she got. She gave Marcus two kids." "But Sarah is Marcus's wife. The DeLuca family threw the biggest wedding this city had ever seen." "Oh, come on. She was abused for three years. She can't have kids anymore. Look at her." For more than 1,000 days and nights in that flooded cell, I'd believed he was tearing the city apart to find me. It turned out he'd had other things to do. Pathetic. In the middle of the ballroom, Marcus and Rachel gazed into each other's eyes. Someone shouted, "Make it official, Marcus!" Just then, the spotlight swept across me. Everyone turned to look at me, waiting for me to slap her a second time. I just raised my champagne glass and smiled. "Don't stop on my account." Then I turned and walked out of the ballroom before they could see my red, swollen eyes. I called Lily. "Last time, you said your jewelry studio in Sydney still needs a partner. I've thought it over. I'm in."

The day before the family’s position transfer deadline, I received an order assigning me to the Bellarosa branch. It had come from Don Enzo Vitelli, who also happened to be my fiance. My fingers went cold as I dialed his number. His voice was drawling, as if he had just rolled out of bed. “Oh, Lucrezia submitted that for you. She said it was a prank. She wanted to see if you’d notice. Well, you did notice, so just cancel it yourself.” Lucrezia was the new assistant with whom he had a thing with. I held the phone and stayed silent for a long moment. All those six years I had fought for my place in the family, yet someone was treating it as a prank. I did not argue or scream. I simply packed my things calmly and boarded the flight to Bellarosa on schedule. Enzo panicked. He called back. His voice finally lost that lazy drawl. “I told you to cancel it. Have you cancelled it?” “No.”

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.

I was scrubbing a mountain of dishes in a restaurant kitchen when I spotted my fiancé, Matteo DeLuca, who'd sworn he was buried in debt. He sat in a private dining room on the top floor of a three-Michelin-star restaurant. His tailored suit only added to his cold, intimidating air. Beside him, his right-hand man leaned forward to light the Don's cigar with practiced deference. Across from him, his legal advisor held a glass of red wine. "Matteo, isn't it time to put an end to this test? She even pawned her precious cello to pay off your debts." Matteo blew out a smoke ring and said nothing. The woman raised an eyebrow. "Then test her one more time. Tell her your enemies are going to cut off one of your hands, then see if she'll step in front of the blade for you." Hesitation flickered in Matteo's eyes. His fingers tightened around the cigar. After a long silence, he answered in a low voice. "This is the last test. If she passes, I'll give her the DeLuca name and all the honor that comes with it." I stood behind the glass partition, still clutching the $100 I'd just earned that day. To pay off his fake gambling debt, I'd given up my summer orchestra audition. I juggled three jobs, and the chilblains on my hands kept splitting open and scabbing over. I'd believed that if I could just get through it all, I'd be able to play my cello again. All that struggling just to survive, and it turned out I was only auditioning to become a Donna. I straightened the crumpled $100 bill, slipped it into my bag, and calmly untied my apron. If I still hadn't passed his loyalty test after everything I'd done, then I was done playing his game.

I’m the Chief Counsel for Donatello Vexille, the Godfather of the Vexille family. I’m also his secret wife. At night, he’d pull me close, take me with a ragged violence, leaving his marks on me, a brutal claim I couldn’t refuse. But by day, I was just his lawyer. All he had for me were cold commands. We lived like that for three years. I decided I was done. But he couldn’t know. When I handed him the divorce papers, disguised as a bill of lading, and he signed his name, a breath I didn’t know I was holding finally escaped me. I chased him for seven years and was married to him for three. Whatever was left of my heart finally flatlined. I knew I could never have his. Because it already belonged to someone else: Angelina, his underboss’s sister. He remembered her favorite restaurant. He got blind drunk with joy when she filed for divorce. He even posted his personal guards outside her door. Those were honors I never had. So I tricked him into signing the papers, packed my things, and vanished. What I didn't expect was what he did after I left. He put a king's ransom on my location, and even announced to the whole world that I was his wife.

My boyfriend had a border collie named Milo that he treated like his own child. No matter how broke we were, Milo never went without. We waited outside the warehouse club for its 10 p.m. bread markdowns, then bought Milo fresh seafood flown in that morning. We worked until conjunctivitis left our eyes bloodshot and still didn't dare take a day off, all so we could send Milo to a summer camp that cost more than three thousand dollars. I always thought Lucian simply loved animals too much, that people could tough it out but Milo shouldn't have to suffer. Until the Calloway heir threw a lavish banquet in the north end of town for his beloved pet's birthday. I snuck in hoping to take home some food for Milo, only to discover that the host was my boyfriend, Lucian Calloway, and the birthday pet was Milo. A single napkin at their table was worth more than my entire year's salary. A guest tossing off a casual compliment about how silky the coat looked walked away with a generous reward. That was when it hit me: with a snap of his fingers, Lucian could have paid to treat the stomach and eye problems I'd developed from overwork. And there I was, the fool who'd hidden my medical reports to save money, gutting it out year after year. Maybe in his mind, spending money on strangers and the dog was a better investment than spending it on me. So it was time for me to leave. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in a long time. "The marriage alliance with the Bennetts. I accept."

I'm Sicily's best-known assassin and Don Donatello Vicari's secret wife. At night, Donatello and I made love all over the estate, leaving traces in every room. By day, all he gave me were cold orders. I carried them out from the top of a bell tower, killing whoever caused trouble for the family. We never made our marriage public. He said that was how he protected me. But I'd had enough. I'd realized I would always be hidden away, never acknowledged as his wife. All I could do was watch my husband grow close to another woman, Gia Ferrini. That day, I had a woman in a red dress in my scope. I was about to pull the trigger when he quietly stopped me. "Let her go. She's never been part of the family business." The stray bullet tore into the market below. People turned to look, and my cover was blown. But he just raced down to help the woman in red to her feet, leaving me to face the danger alone. That was when I realized his talk of protecting me was just an excuse. I wasn't the one he cared about. I didn't want to stay in Sicily as his secret wife anymore.

News reports kept repeating the highest-level red alert. A Mediterranean cyclone would make landfall by evening. At four that afternoon, the members of the Corvino family were all securing shipping containers at the docks, eager to get home to their families. When they asked if I wanted a ride home, I shook my head. "Luis said he's coming to get me." They laughed and said they wouldn't steal Luis's chance to play chauffeur. By five, the sky had turned a terrifying deep purple. The storm was tearing at the palm trees. I called my fiancé, Luis Corvino, but he didn't pick up. Our last exchange was at four, when he'd written, "On my way, babe. Wait for me." At half past five, floodwater rushed into the street below, and the cars parked along the curb were swept away like toys. The whole building lost water and power. I curled up on the leather sofa in my office and tried calling again. When the call connected, a woman answered instead. "Luis?" I called out. "Luis is helping me move some things." It was Sophia Corvino, Luis's young, newly widowed stepmother. "Water's coming into the house, and I'm so scared... Luis said it's too dangerous for me to be home alone. "Oh, and Isabella, Luis said he sent a helicopter for you. He texted you. Did you get it?" I looked out the window at the utility poles the storm had snapped. A helicopter? In this weather? He couldn't even be bothered to come up with a decent excuse. I looked at the water creeping in around my feet and kept my voice calm. "Don't bother. I'm already home." A home that didn't need Luis anymore.

On Christmas Eve, my husband's widowed sister-in-law, Roxy, called again. My husband, Damian Caruso, was in his study, listening to his underboss go over the books. I glanced at my husband's phone. Roxy's name flashed across the screen, and I answered. Her voice was sweet and helpless. "Dami, the backyard cameras just caught a man climbing over my wall. I don't know what to do..." I knew that carefully practiced helplessness all too well. I kept my voice even. "Do you want me to send some men to check it out?" There was a pause. When Roxy spoke again, the sweetness had drained from her voice. "Camilla? Why are you answering his phone? I don't need armed men showing up at my house and drawing attention. Dami is the only one I trust." Damian stepped out of his study, and I handed him the phone. I didn't hear what Roxy said, but his expression changed at once. "Okay. I'm on my way." I knew what that meant. Nine months pregnant, and I'd be spending Christmas Eve dinner alone again. Five years of marriage. Five Christmas Eves. The same thing every year. Roxy's calls always came in the early evening on Christmas Eve. Never too early, never too late. Damian grabbed his coat, wearing that familiar look of apology. "Roxy has it hard enough on her own. Marco took a bullet for me. I promised him I'd look after her and the boy." "I'll check on her and come straight back. I promise I'll be home in time for Midnight Mass." It wasn't a question. He was telling me what he'd already decided. For the first four years, I'd argued. I'd cried. I'd asked him why he always left. And Damian always gave the same answers. "We're family. If I can help, I should." "Don't worry. This year, I'll stay the whole night with you." But he had never kept that promise. Outside, the church bells began to ring, and snow started to fall. I watched him walk away and suddenly realized I no longer cared whether he made it back in time. This year, I wasn't going to wait for him.

I secretly sent Lena Parker, my husband Dominic Caballero's mistress, away to Sicara. I'm defying his authority as the Don of Coastwick, New Hudson. That very night, he abducts my parents and younger brother, using their lives to force me to reveal Lena's whereabouts. Dominic pushes his phone in front of me. On the screen, I see my family tied to chairs, the timer of the bombs ticking down. 00:59:59 00:59:58 He sits across from me and taps his fingers softly against the table, like he's closing a business deal. "Alyssa, you have 59 minutes," Dominic says in a calm, almost gentle voice. "Where's Lena?" I freeze, my throat tightening as if strangled. I can't get a word out. This is the third time he's pressed me. The first time, he asked where Lena had gone, but I stayed silent. The second time, he grabbed my chin and said in a low voice, "Alyssa, don't play games." Now, for the third time, he's threatening my family's lives. "Dominic…" I call out, my voice trembling. "They're my family. They're the most important people to me." He chuckles. "Is that so? Then why didn't you think about how important Lena is to me when you sent her away?" I stare at him, feeling how utterly absurd it all is. Important? He told me before that other women were just playthings. Once he got bored, he'd dump them. He swore I was the only one he loved. But now, for Lena, he's willing to kill my family.

My wedding to Dante Moretti, the Don of the Chicago Mafia, was only days away. When I got home from my final dress fitting, I found he had made the house over into something painfully romantic. Flowers, candles, stacks of gift boxes... Excited as I was, I could not help wondering why. Today was not a special day. He pulled me into his arms and fed me a mouthful of wine from his own lips, his eyes smiling. "I knew you'd forget the anniversary of the day we got together." My stomach dropped. The anniversary was not today. While he was in the shower, his phone went off. A calendar alert popped up on the screen. "Today is your relationship anniversary." I frowned, opened the calendar, and scrolled back through a few pages. Every date he had marked, I realized, traced back to Camille Ricci, his first love. Her period, her birthday, her lucky days... Twelve months, hundreds of entries, packed so tight there was barely any space left between them. I gripped the phone, and the cold went all the way through me. Dante came out with a towel around his waist, saw me still standing there, and teased me with a grin. "Why are you just standing there? Want me to carry you to bed?" I did not call him on it. I said I needed to go over the wedding schedule, and I left. That night I returned the dress, canceled the wedding, and accepted the offer from the university in New York.

My best friend, Lillian Russo, was married to Daniel Falco, a small-time thug from a second-rate New York family. When I heard he'd been beating her, my boyfriend Vittorio Cordano and I flew out in the middle of the night. I crushed Daniel's ribs under my stiletto while Vittorio dealt with the bodyguards trying to get through the door. Lillian wiped the blood from her face and slapped him hard, again and again. In the car on the way home, the three of us looked at each other's bruises and laughed our heads off in the Sicilian morning light. Lillian was laughing and crying at the same time. "You two have to stay together forever. If you ever split up, who am I supposed to go with?" Vittorio had one hand on the wheel. He snorted. "Santina is my only weakness. Stop worrying about us and take care of yourself." From that day on, Lillian lived with us, and I did everything I could to take care of her. I spent so much time looking after her that one night, in bed, Vittorio gripped my waist, his voice low and dangerous. "Santina, did you forget? You're my woman." Three months later, I came back from a business trip and found a plush charm in Vittorio's car. Something cute and girly. No matter how many times I asked, he wouldn't tell me who'd given it to him. "We're done!" I threw the words at him and told Lillian to come with me. But Lillian kept her head down. While I watched, she walked, step by step, over to Vittorio's side.

During an argument with my fiancé, he lost his temper and slapped me across the face in front of the entire family and guests. That same day, I called off the engagement and blocked him on every last platform so that he could not reach me. No one could believe it. After all, we grew up together. Everyone knew I had been in love with him since we were kids, and we were supposed to get married right after college. He just stood there, looking lost. "Why, Gia? Over a slap?" I held his gaze. "Sì. Over a slap."

I had fallen in love with my father’s friend—the man I was supposed to call “uncle,” Kael Viremont. For a while, I thought he loved me too. We even had this silly little promise—that if I turned twenty-seven and still want to be with him, then we could be together, publicly. Five days before my twenty-seventh birthday, I overheard him saying he’d never liked me. That he was going to marry his childhood sweetheart. And as if that wasn’t cruel enough, he was planning to use the wedding to cut me off for good. So I did the one thing I should’ve done a long time ago—accepted that he and I would never belong to the same world… and disappeared from his life for good.

The five major mafia families in Neopolis had an unwritten rule. None of the core family members was allowed to marry a commoner, but the heir to the Colombo family, Adrian Colombo, had fallen in love with me. Adrian openly defied his family's committee for me but ended up being slapped a hundred times in public as his punishment. He was also forced to drink whiskey with glass pieces mixed into it. While getting his stomach pumped at the hospital, he smiled and comforted me, "Don't cry, Ella. I'm willing to accept any punishment as long as I can be with you." After that, Don Colombo finally agreed to let Adrian marry me, but on one condition. He had to give his family a new heir by having a child with his deceased older brother's fiancée and his sister-in-law, Cecelia Gambino. Adrian agreed to the terms in order to marry me. He told me that we could be together forever after Cecelia gave birth to an heir. After that, he slept with Cecelia 99 times until she was pregnant. I thought we could finally be together, but Adrian told me apologetically that Cecelia was pregnant with a girl. The heir of the Colombo family had to be a boy. So, he slept with Cecelia another hundred times before she was finally pregnant again. Just when I thought I could finally marry Adrian, his daughter with Cecelia ingested cyanide by accident, and everyone thought I was the culprit. I was forcefully sent to the convent for one year. Adrian looked at me angrily. "How could you hurt my daughter, Ella?! She's innocent! How could you be so cruel? I'm so disappointed in you." He did not believe me! I felt a sharp pain in my heart. It felt like it was being torn apart. I was suddenly reminded of how he had made a promise to me in front of God. "Ella, I swear I will only love you in this life." When he was punished by his family for me, he said, "Ella, I'm willing to suffer any punishment just to be with you." Every time we slept together, he would kiss me over and over. "Don't leave me, Ella, or I'll die." However, when he stood next to Cecelia and carried their daughter in his arms, they looked like a real family of three. I was suddenly tired of everything. Adrian, from now onward, your name would never again appear in my prayers. From now onward, we would live as though we had never met each other and we had never been in love. I would set you free.

To prove she was fair, Valerie forced me into the family's live-fire drill. She knew I had a severe heart condition. She knew I couldn't stand the sight of blood. Three hours under the blistering sun. My hands shook wildly. I stared at the trembling rabbit tied to the target, terrified to pull the trigger. "You can't even kill a freaking rabbit? How are you supposed to lead this family?" Valerie's icy voice lashed at me from behind. Tears filled my eyes. I finally pulled the trigger. The bullet tore through the rabbit. Blood spattered everywhere. The smell and all that red triggered my blood phobia instantly. Everything went pitch black. Chloe, the intern medic, walked over and grabbed me roughly. Her eyes were full of pure malice. "Underboss, her vitals are totally fine. Is she faking it just to escape training?" Valerie looked down at my pale face. Disgust and disappointment covered her face. "Gemma, is this how I raised you? Everyone else finished. You don't get special treatment." "You finish this drill today—even if it kills you!" Then, my chest stopped moving. Dead silence. My soul floated into the air. I looked down at Mom, filled with guilt and despair. I'm sorry, Mom. This time, I really couldn't hold on.

I walked in on my husband, Dante Cavallaro, in bed with three women. This time, I didn't shoot any of them in the head as I once would have. I slipped off my wedding ring and tossed it onto the card table. "Fifty thousand says I leave the Cavallaro family today." Everyone bet I wouldn't dare. Five years ago, my family was slaughtered. To pay my father's crushing medical bills, I was forced to sign a contract promising the Cavallaro family a child. I had five years to give them an heir. When I was eight months pregnant, Dante found the contract and decided our marriage had been a setup. In the middle of the fight, he lost control and shoved me down the stairs. I lost the baby and the chance to ever have another. After that, he started bringing home one woman after another. Now he was threatening to cut off my father's oxygen because his new favorite had hurt herself and blamed me. Dante was sure I'd never leave him. I needed his money to keep my father alive. What he didn't know was that the contract had one more clause. I'd bought myself a way out with every port my family owned. "If no heir is born within five years, the woman may end the agreement on her own and leave freely." Today was the last day of those five years.

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

My name is Isabella Wright. In my fifth year of marriage to the Don of a powerful mafia family, I find out that the protection charm he gave me causes me headaches whenever I bring it with me. I take out the sachet I find in the charm and bring it to Cursley Hospital. The doctor inspects the sachet and tells me that it contains a type of slow-acting poison that doesn't just cause harm to the victim's body but also renders them infertile after a while. I cry and exclaim, "But that's impossible! My husband gave this to me! His name is Vincenzo Cursley. He's also the person who owns this hospital!" The doctor looks at me in confusion. "Miss, I think you need to visit the psychiatrist. I know Mr. Cursley and his wife. They're very close and intimate with each other. Also, Mrs. Cursley just gave birth to a baby boy not too long ago. They're both now in the VIP ward, looking at their baby." Then, the doctor shows me a photo on his phone. Vincenzo was wearing his usual black suit with the Cursley family emblem embroidered on it. He was holding a baby in his arms, and as for the woman standing next to him… I know her. Her name is Claudia Henderson. And Vincenzo has always referred to her as his adoptive sister.

I married Don Matteo in secret. Every time he fucked his childhood sweetheart, he promised me a real wedding，in front of the Five Families. For five years, Matteo promised me ninety-nine times. And ninety-nine times, he left me at the altar. The first time, Cecilia’s prize-winning show cat died. To comfort her, he postponed the wedding for three months. I stood at the altar alone, eyes red, trying to calm down the family elders. The second time, Cecilia threw a tantrum at a casino and shattered a hundred-million-dollar antique vase. He diverted the private jet meant for their wedding and rushed through the night to clean up her mess. And every time, right before our wedding, his childhood sweetheart would have some kind of emergency. I cried. I screamed. I even held a gun to his head. But Matteo would just pin me against the wall and shut me up with a cold, hard kiss. “She’s just a fuck. You are Mrs. Falcone. Have some goddamn class.” After the ninety-ninth time, I was finally done. I slid the papers across the table. The ink was still wet, the Falcone family seal stamped at the bottom. “Our marriage, our alliance—it’s over.”