Cerita Pendek & Novel Pregnancy Mafia

My husband said he was going to Montreal to handle a deal at the port. I went to the hospital alone for my eleven-week test results, planning to surprise him when he got home. Four years earlier, I’d taken a knife to the stomach protecting him. After two surgeries to repair the damage, I’d finally gotten pregnant, but I’d waited until the doctors said everything looked good before letting myself celebrate. As I passed the maternity ward, laughter drifted through an open door. “Look at them. The girl’s all Celeste, but that boy is his daddy’s double.” “You stayed with her through labor all night, Dante. Now you’ve got one of each. What more could you want?” “Their mother’s safe. That’s all I need.” My husband’s voice. I stopped outside the room. Dante Vitale sat beside the bed, kissing a woman’s fingertips. Two bassinets stood next to him. His name was on both cards, under Father. He never saw me. Last night, he’d talked me to sleep over the phone, claiming he couldn’t sleep without hearing me breathe beside him. I folded my results and put them away. I knew Dante too well. He could lay the whole world at my feet, and he would do whatever it took to keep me by his side. If I asked for a divorce, he would never let me go. If I wanted to leave him, I would have to find another way. This time, I would make everyone believe I was dead.

On the day my husband's dying first love gave birth, his father, the Don of the Lupo family, posted ten armed men outside my door. They were on high alert, terrified I might storm the delivery room and disrupt the birth of the first heir to the Lupo family. But I never even touched the door, not even when the newborn's cries echoed down the hall. Luca's mother, the family's Donna, let out a long sigh of relief, her hand tightly gripping the woman's on the hospital bed. "Bianca, we're here. That barren woman, Stella, won't lay a finger on you or my grandson." Luca leaned over, gently wiping the cold sweat from Bianca's brow, his eyes filled with tenderness. "Don't worry, Father's had his men lock down the entire private hospital. If she dares to cause a scene, I'll have her struck from the family records myself." Only after confirming I wouldn't show up to make trouble did he finally relax. He didn't understand. In his eyes, he was just honoring a debt, giving a dying woman a child to carry on her name, helping his first love fulfill her final wish. Why couldn't I just be graceful about it? Why couldn't I see the bigger picture? A satisfied smile touched Luca's lips as he gazed at the swaddled infant. He was even thinking that if I would just swallow my pride, admit I was wrong, and show Bianca a little kindness, he would forgive my previous coldness completely. He'd make it up to me, even offering me the hollow title of the child's mother, allowing me to keep my position as the Underboss's wife. But what he didn't know was that I had already signed the divorce papers my lawyer had drawn up. In a week, I would cut all ties with the Lupo family, take the twins growing inside me and walk away. We would never see each other again, not in this life or the next.

Once I became pregnant, I was hailed as the most precious woman in the underworld. My husband, the new Don of the Jenkins family, shut down an entire private hospital wing for my check-ups, while my father, the Collins Don, summoned every Michelin-starred chef in New York to the estate, just so I could pick whatever I craved. The baby I carried was destined to be the sole heir of the two most powerful mafia families. But on the day we were to sign the papers securing my child's inheritance, they both vanished. "An urgent family matter came up," my husband, Vincent, said, kissing my forehead. "We can finalize the child's inheritance when we get back. There's no rush." Shortly after they left, I received a link to an anonymous live stream. My father's voice came from the video, colder than I had ever heard it. "You're saying your marriage contract with Evangeline was never valid. Doesn't that make the child a bastard?" Vincent, lounging in a club, blew a smoke ring. Cradled in his arms was my half sister, Sarah. "Evangeline has always had all the love and affection. Her child will want for nothing." "Sarah has been mocked for her status for years. I have to make things right for her, give our child a legitimate name." In that moment, my heart seized, and I could barely breathe. Then my phone vibrated again. It was a text message: "Welcome home to the Gallo family, my queen." "Just give the word, and the child you carry will bear the Gallo name and become the most powerful heir in the American underworld."

I tricked my Mafia husband, Damian Moretti. After he left me for Clara one more time, I got him to sign the divorce papers without ever realizing it, and left with his heir forever. - Damian and Clara grew up together. So the day Clara came back, he put her right back by his side. And me, his wife of four years, could only wait for him to have time to come home, wait for him to remember our anniversaries, wait for him to finally figure out the difference between protection and love. After he broke yet another promise to me for Clara's sake, I knew it was time to leave. That night, I put the document in front of him. He'd just finished cleaning up another mess for Clara. His suit jacket still carried the scent of the orange blossom perfume she always wore. He didn't even flip through it. He signed his name on the last page. "Is this urgent?" "Yes." He nodded, didn't even put the pen back in the holder, and went right back to texting Clara. Holding that document with his signature on it, my hand was shaking. But for the first time, I felt free. He didn't know he had just signed our divorce papers. And I had already accepted a position at an overseas research institute. Soon, I would fly to Zurich with the unborn heir of the Moretti family and disappear from his world completely. By the time the legally binding divorce decree landed on his desk, by the time he tore the world apart looking for me. I would already be somewhere he could never reach, starting a new life and a new career.

My husband, Kieran, is the heir to the Thompson family. In the three years of our arranged marriage, he has never once touched me. I told myself he was just cold and guarded, that I could find a way into his heart, little by little. Then one day he came home drunk, pinned me to the bed for the first time, and called out his first love's name. "Camilla, all these years... I've thought of you every second of every day..." That was when I knew. All the passion and love he possessed was already spent on another woman. I pushed him away, burned every photo of us, and went to a high-end club in New York full of handsome male models. Nine months later, I walked into the airport with my newborn baby in my arms. Later, Kieran searched the world for me, his eyes bloodshot. He asked in a trembling voice why I never told him I was pregnant, why I wouldn't let him see our baby. I glanced at him and gave a light, breezy smile. "Who said the baby was yours?"

As my due date approached, a massive discrepancy surfaced in the Galante family's arms accounts. The leadership made a swift decision. They sent me, Sophia Vitale, the Don's wife, the woman everyone claimed had nothing better to do, to personally inspect the armory and verify the inventory. I believed it was a routine check. I never imagined my husband's godsister, Monica Leone, would use it as cover to blow up the entire armory. The explosion was deafening. Fire ripped through the sky. Concrete collapsed around me, crushing my body as a searing pain tore through my abdomen. I did not call my husband on his highest-priority private line. Instead, I sent a distress signal to my father. In my previous life, the moment the explosion occurred, I had used that same priority channel to call my husband. The child had survived. Monica had been obliterated in the blast. My husband had claimed he did not blame me. He had said Monica was an outsider and that an heir mattered more. He had spared no expense, hiring elite obstetric specialists to monitor me day and night. He had told me to stay calm and wait for delivery. Then, on the day I went into labor, he personally locked me and the baby inside an abandoned warehouse drenched in gasoline and burned us alive. "If you hadn't deliberately delayed, she wouldn't have died. Do you really think playing the innocent victim could fool me? Dream on," he said. "You like playing with fire so much? Fine. I'll let you experience her despair yourself." When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the armory, at the exact moment of the explosion.

My husband Bruno's goomah was pregnant with their second child. At the family dinner, he caressed his lover Ava's rounded belly. "This one will be a boy, the future heir to the Marino family. As my wife, it is your duty to raise him." This was the second time he had openly acknowledged one of his bastards. I didn't make a scene like I had before. I just calmly lifted my head and looked Bruno straight in the eye. Raucous laughter erupted from the family members around the table. "Remember last time, when she acted like a madwoman? Looks like she's finally learned her place." "The Rossi family's businesses have all been carved up. What can she do besides be an infertile trophy wife? She'll be kicked to the curb sooner or later." Bruno's face was expressionless, allowing them to hurl their insults at me. I fought back the tears burning my eyes and even managed a small smile. "Bruno, let's get a divorce." Bruno looked as if he'd heard the funniest joke in the world, his lips curling into a dismissive smirk. "Liliana, if you can come up with the hundred million dollars you owe this family, I'll sign the papers right now. Otherwise, stop making a scene." I didn't argue, and just dialed an encrypted number. "I accept the terms we discussed." A lazy laugh echoed from the other end of the line. "A hundred million? Merely the cost of a port. I can have it for you anytime, my princess."

"Give me a baby, sweetheart." My husband, Don Nico, whispered, kissing me as he drove deep inside, making us come together. I rested in his arms, feeling his heart hammer against his ribs. He was crazy for me. A month later, on our anniversary, I gave him his wish. A positive pregnancy test. I drove to his private casino, ready to give him the surprise of his life. But I stopped outside the VIP room. The door was cracked open. I heard him bragging to his men. "The wedding's in a week. Scarlett still has no idea she's been sleeping with both of us." He gestured to the man beside him. A mirror image. His twin brother, Marco. "Last time, she was all over him, begging him for a baby." A low rumble of laughter went through the room. My blood ran cold. Someone piped up, nervous. "But Boss, what if she finds out?" Nico just scoffed. The sound was pure ice, pure control. "What's she gonna do? She has nothing without me. I gave all her best work to Bianca. She's the art world's new star. Scarlett's career is dead. I killed it. Her only choice is to be a good little Donna and beg for my scraps." That casual cruelty… it shattered my heart. He destroyed me for another woman. Played me for a fool. Any love I had for him died in that instant. I pulled out my phone. I found the message I'd been ignoring. The curator offer from that top European foundation. I typed my reply: "Yes." He thought I was his to break? He was wrong. In seven days, I would be gone. Vanished from his world for good.

This is the ninth year Dante and I have honored the Month of No Masters. The Corinni family's heir apparent believes this will make our relationship last longer. For one month after our dating anniversary each year, he is free, and we stay out of each other's lives. If either of us finds someone more suitable, we are to wish them well. If not, we go back to the way things were after a month. Around me, the men of the family are spraying champagne with abandon. "To another year of freedom! Congratulations to our Underboss on reclaiming his bachelor status!" "The family betting pool is open! Place your bets on the left if you think they'll still get married, and on the right if you think it's over for good!" Through the hazy cigar smoke, I sat on the corner of a leather sofa, a cold observer, as if this whole farce had nothing to do with me. Dante's hand was curled around Scarlett's waist as he brushed past me, whispering, "Don't get any ideas. You'll always be my only Donna." "I'm a kite. No matter how far I fly, the string is always in your hand." I pressed my cold fingers against the gentle swell of my belly, my expression a blank mask. Dante, this time at the family's betting table, I'm putting my money on "the end." I'm going to vanish from your world completely. That kite string you're so proud of? Tonight, I'm cutting it myself.

Everyone knew Elio Carbone, Don of the Carbone family, was a cold-hearted womanizer. He had one rule: never sleep with the same woman twice. But for me, he broke it. The first day after our breakup, he stood outside the old Bianchi estate for a day and a night, his entire security detail in tow, just to win me back. The second day, he flew to Sicily and bought the deed to my family's ancestral estate at auction for triple its value, and had it delivered to me. The third day, he tattooed my favorite flower, the lily, over his heart. The tattoo artist said he refused any anesthetic and didn't make a sound. Later, at a banquet for the Five Families, in front of all the other Dons, he sliced his palm and made a blood oath. He swore loyalty only to Eleonora Bianchi for the rest of his life; if he broke his vow, he would pay with his life. After a year of his relentless pursuit, his devotion finally wore me down, and I agreed to take him back. I truly believed him then. That Elio truly loved me. Until one night. He took me to an underground racetrack to broker a deal with an ally. But in the roaring crowd, I saw a girl, trembling and crying, her clothes in tatters. Ava was shoved to the starting line. She was the wager for the death race. One look was all it took for Elio's face to darken. The next second, he dropped his hand from my waist and, without a word, walked toward the track entrance. I stood frozen, watching his back as he disappeared into the driver's seat of a modified sports car. I used to wake up crying, terrified he would lose his life in one of these reckless races. He had smashed his trophies, burned his marker for the illegal track, and sworn to God he would never again enter such a life-or-death gamble. My hand drifted to my stomach, covering the secret I hadn't yet had the chance to share. His blood oath was broken. And so was I.

In the seventh year of being in love with the Don, George Grimaldi, I said yes to his proposal. Inside a top-tier luxury bridal boutique, I stood in front of the mirror wearing the first wedding gown of my life. I looked at myself again and again and couldn’t stop smiling. Behind me, he watched in silence for a long moment. Then suddenly, he spoke, “Oh, right. We can’t get married for now. I’m married to someone else.” For a second, I thought I had misheard him. However, my entire body went stiff. The color drained from my face. “Josie is a benefactor of my family,” he explained casually, like he was talking about the weather. “My father insisted I register with her. But don’t worry. She won’t affect our relationship.” My ears rang. It took me a long time before I could finally process his words. “So you’ve been lying to me for seven years?” He frowned, as if I were the unreasonable one. “I wasn’t lying. I just forgot to tell you. This is my fault. If you don’t mind, we can still hold the wedding as planned—the gown, the ring, the honeymoon. You’ll have everything you deserve.” I lowered my gaze. My hand drifted down and rested gently against my lower abdomen. There was something else here, too—a secret I had planned to tell him today.

The night before I was supposed to marry the heir to the Moretti family, I found a string of ninety-nine filthy texts on my fiancé Leo’s phone. A woman named Ava Collins, telling him she loved him. Shameless. Desperate. She was begging him to call off our wedding, threatening to kill herself if he went through with it. I didn’t waste a second. I shoved the phone in his face and demanded an explanation. The silence stretched for an eternity before he finally broke. “Her brother was Liam. My underboss. He took a bullet for me. My bullet. I promised him I’d look after her.” "Jennifer, we grew up together. You know it’s you. It’s always been you. I swear, I’ll handle it. I’ll cut her off." I searched his eyes, hunting for the lie. I swallowed the acid in my throat and chose to believe him. The wedding was on. This was bigger than us. It was a treaty signed in blood between two families. And God help me, I still loved him. But on our wedding day, as we stood at the altar, vows on our lips, Leo got the call. It was her. Ava. On a bridge, threatening to jump. Demanding he come. Now. The diamond ring, a breath away from my finger, clattered to the stone floor of the church. Not a word. Not a single explanation. He just left. Left me, our families, our future... left me standing alone at the altar. Through a blur of tears, I screamed after him, "Leo, if you walk out that door, we are done!" His only reply, tossed over his shoulder, “She needs me.” He never looked back. Carrying his child, I vanished from his world and never looked back.

I was a violin prodigy. But to pay my mother’s debts, I was forced to give up everything. That’s when I met the man who would own me: Dante Moretti. He was the king of New York's underworld. The Don of the Moretti family. With a single phone call, fortunes were made. With a single glance, blood was spilled. The world didn't just bend to his will—it broke. And on that day… what he wanted was me. He gave me a five-year contract. A penthouse in a skyscraper overlooking all of New York. More jewels and gowns than I could count. Every night he needed me, I’d put on whatever lacy thing he picked out. We’d have sex. Five years. 999 times. There were moments—his sweat dripping on my forehead, his soft breaths inside me, the way he’d look at me—when I let myself dream he loved me. Then the video dropped. Him. On the street. Kissing another woman. I knew the truth. He was my keeper, not my lover. Everyone laughed. They couldn't wait to see me lose my mind, begging him to keep me. Instead, I turned my back on him. And married another man.

I am the wife of Anthony Caster, don of the mafia family in New York. When I was nine months pregnant, he brought a woman named Evelyn Graves into the manor, claiming she’d saved his life. That was the day my nightmare began. She put something in my food. Next thing I knew, I was doubled over in pain. And she had the nerve to blame it on me—said I was being reckless with what I ate. She lost her footing and fell down the stairs, but she told everyone I was the one who shoved her. Every day, she’d cry in front of Anthony about how saving him had left her wounded and unable to bear children, how seeing a pregnant woman broke her heart. But the moment she turned to me, the tears were gone, replaced by a cold smile. “As long as I’m here,” she whispered, “your babies will never be born.” Anthony was convinced I was jealous of her. He locked me away in the abandoned attic of the manor and said, “Reflect on your actions and stop bullying Evelyn.” On the first day they shut me in, the contractions began. I screamed, I begged, I banged on the door. The butler heard me and went to inform Anthony. He said, “Amelia, your due date is three days away. Stop putting on an act. Three days in a snowstorm and you came out fine. This? You can handle this.” On the second day, my water broke. I screamed at the top of my lungs, my fingernails digging into the cracks of the wall, blood spilling all over the floor. The butler went to Anthony again. Evelyn said, “Anthony, she’s making all that noise because she wants you to feel sorry for her and let her out. If you give in now, she’ll only grow more reckless later.” He believed her. On the third day, I stopped screaming. Anthony thought I had finally learned my lesson, unaware that I had already died from the difficult labor. When he finally opened that door, all he would find was my rotting, putrid body.

"Take off your clothes. Spread your legs." "...What? Why?" The voice cut through the silence, and my heart seized. I instinctively covered my stomach. It was the first anniversary of my marriage to Alessandro, the Don of the Santoro family. I was pregnant and had wanted to surprise him. But his secretary, Liliana, had blindfolded me and brought me to this unfamiliar place. "Donna, stop playing the victim. Seducing men is your specialty, isn't it?" "Tonight, in this underground auction house, you are the final item on the block." A chill shot down my spine, and my voice trembled. "Are you insane? I'm the Donna of the Santoro family! I'm carrying his heir! Alessandro will kill you..." Liliana scoffed and ripped off my blindfold. Blinding lights bore down on me. I squinted, and gradually, a man sitting in the VIP section came into view... It was Alessandro! I stared in disbelief as he slowly extinguished the cigar in his hand. "Pregnant? Whose bastard are you carrying?" "It's yours!" I cried out. "Liar!" He raised his hand, and a report was tossed at my feet. The bold letters "PROBABILITY OF PATERNITY: 0%" burned my eyes. He came closer and gripped my chin. "Liliana was right. Women like you are rotten to the core." "My love was never enough to satisfy your greed." "And I, Alessandro, will never raise another man's bastard." Later, he finally learned the child was his. For the first time, the man who was always so composed, arrogant, and in control knelt before me, his voice trembling. "Celeste, I'm begging you... even if you can't forgive me, please, let me make it up to you." But I felt nothing for him anymore.

For ten years, I chased after Lucas. I was happy to orbit around him, as long as I got to stay close. Then, on the night of the Romano family dinner, an accident pushed us over the last line we had never crossed. When I woke up, he was already dressed. The look he gave me was full of contempt. "You'd really do anything to get into a Romano's bed, huh?" I glanced at the bottle of purified water on the nightstand. I didn't explain. I didn't argue. My whole body ached, but I left on my own. After that, I cut off all contact with him for three whole months. The next time I saw him, Mrs. Romano had brought Lucas to our house herself. "Can you believe it? My boy finally came to his senses! He's the one who brought up the engagement!" "Ivy, sweetie, you studied jewelry design, right? I can rest easy knowing you're handling the engagement rings!" My hand froze around the bowl of fish soup I was carrying. The scalding soup sloshed over the back of my hand. My mother beamed at me. "So you two finally did it? I knew it! My girl's not good at much, but once she picks someone, she never lets go!" "Lucas picked you. Honestly, you're one lucky girl." The laughter in the living room died. Lucas's face went dark. "Ivy. Seriously? What do you get out of lying like this? You could tell me you're pregnant with my kid. I'm still not marrying you!" Both mothers froze. Mrs. Romano was shocked and furious. She smacked her son's shoulder a few times. "What is wrong with you? I know Ivy. I know her better than you do! Apologize. Right now!" I gently set the fish soup down and interrupted her in a soft voice. "It's okay, Mrs. Romano. Really. But I don't think I can help with the rings." I lowered my head and ran a hand over my stomach, a gentle smile still on my lips. "I'm pregnant. Three months, actually." "But don't worry." "The baby isn't Lucas's."

My fiancé’s childhood sweetheart had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and only had a month left to live. Even though I disagreed, he still temporarily left me to accompany her in completing her bucket list of a hundred wishes. Three days before our engagement, I held the pregnancy test in my hand, wanting to tell him he was going to be a father. Instead, his childhood sweetheart posted a photo on her social media: “Thanks to Leo for spoiling me. I have no more regrets in this life.” In the picture, Leonardo was personally slipping a ring onto her finger. That ruby ring was a dying keepsake my mother had left me, and a priceless family heirloom. Before he left, he said he wanted to take it to the snowy mountains to pray for blessings on our marriage. I commented on her post: “Wishing you both a happy marriage.” Leonardo called me almost immediately: “Elena, don’t provoke Liliana.” “You will be my Donna. We have the rest of our lives. She doesn’t have much time left.” I smiled and told him it was fine. Because I had finally come to my senses: our lifetime would always be tainted by Liliana’s presence. If that was the case, neither I nor our child wanted him anymore. After getting my ring back, I was going to leave this place.

Everyone knew I was severely allergic to cinnamon. Yet when I was four months pregnant, the family’s newly appointed Consigliere personally brought me an apple pie with cinnamon in it. By the time I was rushed to the hospital, I had nearly lost my unborn child. When Damian Luccese heard what happened, he canceled his appointments and stayed by my side, refusing to leave me for even a moment. However, just as he was coaxing me to sleep, his phone suddenly rang. “Don Luccese, Vivian claims the Donna framed her! She’s threatening to kill herself!” Damian’s expression darkened instantly. “She nearly killed my wife and child, and now, she has the nerve to make a scene?” He strode toward the door, only to turn back and press a kiss to my forehead. Guilt filled his eyes. “Honey, I’m going to make her answer for what she’s done. Wait for me.” I waited until the next day, when I was finally discharged from the hospital, yet he still had not returned. When I got back home and stepped into the study, I saw Vivian Sorrento crawling out from beneath his desk. “Donna…” She looked flustered and panicked. “I swear, I had no idea there was cinnamon in the pie! If you still can’t forgive me, I’m willing to resign as the family Consigliere…” Before I could say a word, my husband caught her by the wrist. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve done so much for this family. Until we get to the bottom of what happened, no one has the right to force you out.” His gaze shifted to me, and when he spoke again, his voice had softened. “Elena, something about this doesn’t add up. Don’t worry, I’ll find the person responsible. Vivian was being used too. She’s been so consumed with guilt that she hasn’t slept all night. Please don’t make things harder for her. Can you do that for me?” I lowered my gaze to their tightly clasped hands, feeling the blood in my veins turn to ice. Swallowing back my tears, I said nothing. Instead, I replied to my father’s message: [Dad, I’ve lost. I’m ready to return and take over the family.]

On our wedding day, Dante Moretti gave me one rule: spend five million dollars a year. Every last cent. I had already spent too many years being poor for him. We had lived in a basement we couldn’t afford to heat. I had worked three jobs just to buy him a suit that didn’t come from a thrift store. When he reclaimed his family’s empire and became the most feared don in New York, he wanted to give me everything. Then his childhood friend came home. Vivienne Russo called herself a marriage counselor. She gave our marriage a score of zero. “There’s no equality here. You can’t buy a healthy relationship.” Dante canceled my black card, our honeymoon, and even the private prenatal care he had arranged for me. Five months pregnant, I started looking for work again. Then I slipped in the rain. At the hospital, the doctor said my baby was at risk and wanted to keep me under observation. Dante rushed in and held me as if he could keep anything from hurting us. Beside him, Vivienne opened her notebook. “Don’t abandon your boundaries because she cries, Dante. She needs to learn independence. Pay half.” His arms fell away. “You heard her, Elena. Tears won’t work this time. You’re responsible for the other half.” I wiped my face and checked my balance. The money he had left me was just enough for a one-way ticket out.