Nouvelles Reborn Mafia & Romans

The night the family’s don was attacked, my husband had abandoned his post to win back his misbehaving mistress. The first time I lived through this, I activated his communication device to summon him back. He thus saved the don and rose through the ranks. However, his mistress had died in the firefight, and he blamed it all on me. Thus, on my delivery date, he dumped me in an abandoned factory and had some stray dogs rip me and my baby apart. “There were so many bodyguards there that night. Why did you have to call me back? You knew that she would die! You did this on purpose!” Somehow, right before I died, I went back in time to that night. I did not activate the communication device this time. I threw it into the fountain and watched it sink. Then, although I was eight months pregnant, I shielded the don and took the bullet meant for him.

My husband was the long-lost heir of the Riso mafia family. In my previous life, my husband Titus Holt's childhood sweetheart, Melissa Gunther, falsely accused me of stealing her family heirloom bracelet. It happened two days before I was set to leave the slums. Just as I was about to defend myself, Titus forcefully dealt with this matter and led Melissa and me out of the slums and back to the Riso family. I thought Titus did so because he trusted me, but then I heard Titus tell Melissa, "Noelle may not be honest, but she's Christian's mother. I can't let her bear the reputation of being a thief." Looking troubled, Christian also commented, "I don't want a thief as a mom. Dad, why did you bring her back? Wouldn't it be better to have Ms. Gunther as my mom?" I felt a chill run through me. It turned out Titus had not done all this out of trust; he just felt I was too embarrassing. Even my son had hated me his whole life. In the blink of an eye, I was reborn back to the day Titus suppressed public opinion. I silently booked a ticket to Swizor. On the day Titus took my son and Melissa back to Napple, I would leave and never see them again.

With a sharp gunshot, my husband of twenty years, Marcus De Luca, rushed in front of me and took the bullet for me. As he lay dying, he spoke gently. “Nerina, live well.” I held him in my arms. My tears kept falling as I pressed hard against the wound in his chest. But he only touched my hair. His eyes fell on Vivian’s body. “She’s dead. I have no reason to live either.” It felt like a bullet had gone through my head. All the blood in my body froze. “She suffered in Sicily for twenty years.” “She finally came back, and now she died in front of me.” “Please stay alive. Bury me with her.” “If there is another life, don’t let her go to Sicily in your place again.” “Please make us whole.” His hand fell. My world collapsed. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in front of Marcus’s father. The old Don looked at me. “Your wedding with Marcus is set for three days from now.” I lifted my head and spoke calmly. “Marcus’s bride should not be me. It should be Vivian.” “As for Sicily, I’ll go.”

My adoptive brother, Don Cassian. I loved him. The rival family drugged him. He had me pinned down. His hands on my breasts. He was hard, his eyes filled with a desperate hunger for me. But I shoved him off. Ran out the door. And called my best friend, Camilla. "Cassian's in the master bedroom. Get here. Now." I locked myself in the bathroom, letting the cold water wash away the fire he’d started in me. I remembered the last time. In my past life, when Cassian kissed me, I didn't say no. We made love all night. I thought my ten-year crush was finally mine. Then came St. Patrick's Cathedral. The Vitelli family's sapphire ring, passed down for three generations. The blessing of the Elders. I had everything I ever wanted. But the day after the wedding, I got the news. My best friend, Camilla, was dead. An overdose of antidepressants in her apartment. I was on the phone, crying for her, when a knife went through my chest from behind. I turned. It was Cassian, his face twisted with hate. "If you hadn't blackmailed me with those ledgers—if you hadn't forced your way into my bed—Camilla would still be alive. You have to pay for this!" That's when I understood. He never married me for love. It was all because of a whisper from Camilla: "Aurora controls the family's money. She can ruin you with a phone call." And a warning from the Elders: "Don, you must marry her. She knows too much." So this time, I stepped aside. I let them have each other. But why? Why did he come after me, his eyes red, looking like he'd lost his mind? "Aurora," he begged. "Why don't you love me anymore?"

When I pushed open the oakwood door to the manor’s study, I never expected to walk into such a scene. Juliana was sprawled across the desk, her posture leaving little to the imagination. As if not R-rated enough, her mini dress was pulled up to her waist, and her black lace clung to her thigh, barely covering her modesty. She looked back with a smile. “Alessia, my back is acting up again. Matteo’s just helping me out.” Matteo, my husband and a Don, rose to his feet, a tube of ointment in hand. He didn’t look like someone who had been caught out. “She couldn’t reach her back, so I thought I ought to lend a hand.” Matteo grabbed the dressing and pressed the gauze against her skin. He sure took his time. Tilting her head, Juliana met my gaze. “Don’t get the wrong idea. We grew up together. That’s how family is. We don’t care about that kind of stuff.” In my past life, I bolted into the room and grabbed Juliana by the hair to yank her off the desk. She turned to the side, shoving me hard into the sharp corner of the desk. I hit my head on the cold marble edge. The next thing I knew, I was a dead body in the morgue. This time, I stood in the doorway motionlessly. Since Juliana wanted to play the game, I’d be sure to hold my cards close to my chest.

My name is Elena, the principessa with the best marksmanship in the Capello family. In my previous life, I married my fiancé, Leon Newman. However, behind my back, he was involved with his adopted sister, Violetta, for three whole years. They even had a child together. To give her the antique pistol that represented the highest honor in marksmanship, he smashed my right wrist with a steel slide rail. From that day on, I could never hold a gun steadily again. I also lost the qualification to take over the family’s private shooting club and weapons collection business. After being reborn, I didn’t choose Leon again. Instead, I married his uncle, Damien Newman, the current don of the Newman family. I thought I had finally escaped the fate of my previous life. But on the eve of the family’s annual shooting competition, my right wrist was destroyed again. This time, it was Violetta herself who did it. After Damien learned about it, he was furious and personally sent Violetta to prison. I was deeply moved. I thought I had finally chosen the right man in this life. It wasn’t until five years later that I overheard the conversation between father and son in the study. “Dad, back then, you helped Aunt Violetta burn the surveillance footage, gave her a new identity, and married Mom, a useless cripple who can’t even hold a gun steady anymore, all so she could safely leave Sicilia. “Now that Aunt Violetta is back, when are you going to divorce Mom? I want Aunt Violetta to be my mom.” Damien stayed silent for a long time. He rubbed his wedding ring with his thumb before speaking in a low voice. “I won’t. For Violetta’s sake, I already wronged your mother once. In this life, I’ll make it up to her. “She will always be Mrs. Newman. And you are never allowed to say things like that in front of her again.” “But the one you love is clearly Aunt Violetta.” “That’s enough.” My hand froze in midair before it could knock on the door. Chills ran down my spine. In my previous life, Leon destroyed the hand I used to shoot. So, in this life, I thought the man who saved me would be the exception. However, it turned out that even this marriage was just a carefully constructed lie he created for another woman. My husband didn’t love me. And my son, Luca, liked Violetta more, too. If that’s the case, I don’t want you anymore, Damien, nor do I want you, my son.

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

Everyone called my sister Alessia a prodigy. I was the only one who knew she was a thief. From the day I moved back into the brownstone, she started taking from me. Quietly. Carefully. My designs. My sketches. My drafts. Everything I created would appear under her name before I even had time to finish it. The family stood behind her. Always. My father, Salvatore Lucchese, head of the family, his word law itself, said he believed Alessia. So I became the liar. The plagiarist. The disgrace. They threw me out of the outfit's front shop. Blacklisted me from the industry. Erased my name. Then one of her loyal admirers ran me down in the street. That was the end. Or it should have been. When I opened my eyes again, it was the day before the national jewelry competition. This time, I didn't draw a single line. Let's see what my darling sister delivers… when the well has run dry.

In my past life, I was the only daughter of the Gambino family in New York. I had power, wealth, respect. But I lost it all because of Lucas, my husband. He brought Isabella, the widow of his fallen brother, into our home without even asking me. I threw a fit, made a scene, and gave everyone exactly the story they wanted: the spoiled Gambino princess had finally gone mad. Lucas filed for divorce soon after. I did not beg him to stay. I was Leo Gambino's daughter. I would rather break my own teeth than plead with a man who had already chosen another woman. But pride did not save me. Soon after, our family fell apart. Enemies moved in, my father was killed, and I ended up starving on the streets of New York. Lucas, however, climbed to the top using our family's influence and became the new don of New York. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Lucas first brought Isabella home.

In my last life, my sister Serena Vega ran to Monaco the night before her wedding, and my family shoved me into her dress before dawn. Damian Lucchese, the young Godfather of New York, had been waiting at the altar for her. The moment he lifted my veil and saw me instead, the warmth in his eyes went cold. For five years, I was his hidden wife. The underworld knew he was married, but no one knew to whom. My parents blamed me for stealing Serena’s place and still failing to keep his heart. Then Serena came home. That Christmas, Damian took her and my parents to his mountain estate. When a blizzard hit, his men rushed everyone onto the helicopter. No one remembered me. I died in that frozen house, three months pregnant with Damian’s child. When I opened my eyes again, Serena had just returned to New York. This time, I would not beg for love. Only when I truly walked away, none of them had the right to regret it.

On the day there was an assassination attempt on the Don, my husband, the head of security for the Russo family, was busy coaxing his mistress, who had lost her temper and left. I did not call him for help but used my body as a shield to protect the Don while I was eight months pregnant. In my past life, my husband left his mistress behind and came back with his team of bodyguards to save the Don after I called him for help on the phone. My husband ended up saving the Don and was rewarded by the family with a promotion, but his mistress was killed in the process. Although my husband said nothing about it, he threw me into the shark tank on the day I was in labor. I was covered in blood when I looked at him for an answer. However, all he did was stare coldly at me. "Why did you have to get me to save the Don when he had so many other bodyguards to protect him? You forced me to come back because you're a materialistic woman who only wants fame and fortune! If it weren't for your phone call, Aurora wouldn't have died! You must pay for everything she suffered!" I ended up being torn apart by sharks, and even the baby inside my belly was not spared. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day of the assassination attempt on the Don.

Two of New York’s most powerful Cosa Nostra dons, Vincent Luciano and Nick Valentino, made a brutal wager over me. The terms were simple: whoever won my heart first would win the right to marry Seraphina Moretti, the sole heir to the Moretti crime syndicate. The ruthless Vincent swept me into his Fifth Avenue penthouse, lavishing me with luxuries all of New York would kill for. Cold, reserved Nick played the lovesick fool, kneeling beneath the moonlight over the Hudson to swear he’d give me a safe life, free from this world’s bloodshed and chaos. I said yes. But the second we stepped into Vincent’s oak-paneled study, Nick’s warmth turned frigid. “Vincent, we had a deal. I’ve won the Moretti marriage.” In my past life, I was discarded by both men, betrayed by my family, and left to die of a forced heroin overdose. Now I’ve been reborn. And this time, I still said yes to Nick’s proposal... But everything would be totally different.

In my last life, Enzo Saletta saved me from the fire. Chiara Bellini died in my place. For months, he cared for me like a devoted husband. He guarded my hospital room. He bought gifts for our unborn child. He told me none of it was my fault. I believed him. Until the night after I gave birth. Our son was asleep beside me. I was too weak to move, still aching from labor, but for one brief moment, I believed we were safe. Then I smelled smoke. The door would not open. Outside the locked door, Enzo’s voice cut through the smoke. “You took Chiara from me. Now burn with your child.” I screamed his name until my throat bled. No one opened the door. The flames swallowed me and my newborn son. When I opened my eyes again, I was back inside that burning warehouse. Five months pregnant. Smoke in my lungs. Chiara still alive. This time, I did not call Enzo. I waited until he came. I watched him carry Chiara out first. Then I crawled through the fire alone, bleeding for a child he would never get the chance to kill. Everyone believed I had set the fire. Everyone called me jealous, vicious, and insane. But they had forgotten one thing. Before I became Enzo Saletta’s wife, I was the woman who helped build the Carmine family’s security system. Chiara deleted the main footage. She did not delete mine.

I had a best friend who was sweet as honey but only with her mouth. Behind my back, she was a demon. She stole my boyfriend, the underboss of the Chicago Outfit. Her excuse? She wanted to keep me away from the darkness and the blood, so she'd take the suffering in my place. She pawned her wedding ring and fed her husband some story about a limited edition bag for me. She skimmed from her husband's company accounts and pinned it on my male escort habit. She was pregnant and still wanted thrills. So she went to a full-blown orgy with her husband's uncle and a group of his associates. That's how she ended up hemorrhaging. But somehow it was my fault. I was the one who organized that kind of party, according to her. And her story? She tried to stop me, so I pushed her down and made her lose the baby. In the end, her husband sent me to a cartel hellhole in Mexico to atone for my sins. There, her lover sold me to the red-light district. First came the addiction. Then the streets. I served every man in their outfit, one after another. My body rotted. I died slow, sick, and alone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night my best friend miscarried because of her own filthy party.

After being reborn, I stop asking questions about what my husband, Giulio Panzeri, does with his childhood friend, Camilla Messina. I let Camilla summon him away from my side again and again. She calls him in tears, saying, "I'm scared, Giulio… I heard gunshots outside the estate, and Nico is crying in fear. Can you come over to keep us company?" Even as Giulio hesitates, I thoughtfully hand him his jacket and tell him, "Quick. Go to them. They must be terrified." Giulio pauses in his tracks and looks at me with a complicated gaze. The old me would've teared up, bursting with emotions as I questioned him who was more important to him, us or them. But now that I've been reborn, I warmly and gently go along with everything he does. Once my daughter, Romina Panzeri, receives her kidney transplant, I'll take her with me and leave him for good.

When the marriage contract was placed in front of me, I only took a moment to read the terms, but Lucien Moretti urged me three times to sign. He was in a hurry, after all. His precious savior, Isabella, was waiting for him to take her to her favorite opera. So I picked up the pen, but I did not sign my name. I copied Isabella’s handwriting and wrote hers instead. In my last life, I had signed that contract with a heart full of hope. I thought becoming Lucien’s wife meant I would finally stand beside him as the Donna of the Moretti family. Instead, he kept me hidden after the wedding. At every public event, Isabella was the woman on his arm. Every matter that should have required the Donna’s approval went through her first. I told myself I was not strong enough yet. I swallowed every insult and was forced to give up everything that should have been mine. Until the night gunmen broke into the Moretti estate, and Lucien chose her again. He carried Isabella out in his arms while I bled out behind him. Then I opened my eyes and found myself back before the wedding contract was sealed. This time, I gave Isabella the Donna’s necklace. I gave her the wedding dress. I even signed her name on the contract meant for me. I gave up my name, and I gave him up with it.

At my formal betrothal announcement ceremony, Carmelo Conti, the old Don of the Conti Famiglia places the ring that symbolizes the authority as a Don before me and tells me to choose my groom. Whoever I choose shall become the heir. I don't hesitate to pass the ring to Aldo Conti, Simone Conti's uncle. The atmosphere in the hall goes eerily silent. Everyone knows that Simone and I are childhood friends. I've taken a bullet from a rival aimed at Simone before. Till now, I still have the scar to prove it. Meanwhile, Aldo is Carmelo's youngest brother. He's also known as the most cold-blooded and blood-thirsty assassin in the family. No one dares to provoke him at all. What everyone doesn't know is that I've made a completely different choice in my previous lifetime. At that time, I had chosen Simone. On the same night after we held our wedding at the cathedral, Simone and my stepsister, Clodia Moretti, slept together. All the elders in both families were enraged, to say the least. They had Clodia flown to Novarria, and she was never to return ever again. Simone pinned the blame on my possessiveness. Since then, he traveled everywhere with young women who looked like Clodia. He often flirted with them right in front of me, too. Later on, I was hunted down by the assassins. Before I died, I managed to dial Simone's number so that I could call for help. All I heard were his low panting and Clodia's loud moans. Just like that, I breathed my last with immense hatred in my eyes. Now, I've gotten reborn. In this lifetime, I shall grant Simone's wish by letting him be with Clodia. But he has the nerve to regret everything he's done to me.

I once risked my life to save Jaxson Rourke on a rainy night. He remembered my face. Yet, when he came to propose, he mistook Elena for me simply because we shared a similar appearance. My stepmother forbade me from revealing the truth. Tragically, Elena was frail and passed away from illness before the wedding. My father couldn't bear to let such immense wealth and status slip away, so he decided to hand the marriage to me instead. He thought that I would surely win the Jaxson’s favor, thinking I closely resembled Elena, enough to replace her. But, my father was wrong. Jaxson only has hatred for me, "You two look so much alike.” He sneered, “Why did she have to be the one who died, and not you?" After the marriage, Jaxson remained indifferent towards me, never believing a word I said. Now, I have been reborn to the time when Jaxson had just gotten engaged…I knelt before my stepmother and pleaded, "To avoid any unexpected trouble, please arrange my marriage as soon as possible.

After I was reborn, the first thing I did was burn every photo of Vincent Corleone and me. Then I threw his engagement ring into the fireplace and deleted every voicemail where he swore I was the only woman he would ever love. Because in my last life, that love turned me into a joke. Vincent said he loved me, but after I gave up my place at a world-class institute for him, he took Lilian White to Europe instead. She was the orphan he felt guilty for. The fragile girl he said needed protection. I was Isabella Rossi, heiress to the Rossi crime family. So I was supposed to be strong. Strong enough to smile when he missed my birthday for her. Strong enough to stay quiet when she wore my mother’s necklace. Strong enough to survive the crash meant to kill me. For seven days, I lay in a hospital bed, conscious but unable to move, listening to him visit my room for two minutes before spending the rest of the day holding her hand. Before my heart stopped, I finally understood. Vincent would kill for me. But he would always choose her. When I opened my eyes again, I was back three months before I rejected the institute for him. This time, I did not cry. I did not ask him to choose. I accepted the offer, sold my assets, erased my name from his life, and waited for my birthday. The day Vincent planned to propose again was the day I disappeared. He could keep his guilt. He could keep his fragile little Lilian. I was done being the strong woman he never thought he had to save.

At the auction, Victor raised his paddle and won the twenty-three-carat rough pink diamond. He waved a casual hand. "It's for Lillian." Sitting beside him, I went still, a tremor running through me so faint no one noticed. Only then did he seem to remember me. "Use the leftovers for a pair of earrings," he added, almost as an afterthought. "Give them to Claudia." Later, I followed the family's orders and married him. I became the Donna of the Medici Family. We spent a steady, loveless lifetime together. On my deathbed, Victor held my hand and asked if I had any last wishes. I looked at my jewelry box. The top tray was filled with pieces made from his scraps, the leftovers from every gift he'd ever given Lillian. I drew my last breath without answering. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment the two Families were competing for the Medici Donna's seat. In my previous life, I'd held the Smith & Wesson, fired ten shots, and hit ten bullseyes. The old Don had named me the future Donna of his Family on the spot. This time, I let out a slow breath and pulled the trigger. I missed on purpose.