Contos e Romances de Mafia com Regret

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

I'm the Donna of the Vitale family, the wife of Domenico Vitale, the woman everyone is expected to bow to. Yet whether I need to access family funds, arrange a car, make a doctor's appointment, or even prepare a gown for a party, I must submit an application first. The woman who approves every request is Camilla Marino, Domenico's most trusted secretary. He says this is family protocol. As the Donna, I should be the first to follow the rules. Things change when I suffer a massive hemorrhage during my pregnancy. My request for emergency medical treatment is pending approval, yet I have already waited longer than I should have. I call Domenico and beg, "Domenico, please. Tell Camilla to approve it. We're going to lose our baby." He gently scolds me for trying to bypass family protocol. "Do as Camilla says." Just like that, he hangs up. That night, I lose my baby, as well as whatever love I have left for Domenico. I file for divorce and leave with nothing but a few clothes I owned before the marriage. He's convinced I'm doing this out of jealousy toward Camilla, that it is a calculated scheme to make him come crawling after me. He even tracks me down at my new place of work and publicly orders my medical treatment to be stopped, certain that once I lose the Vitale family's money and protection, I'll have no choice but to beg him. Trembling, our private physician tells him the truth. "Don Vitale, Signora miscarried a long time ago."

The ninety-ninth thing my adopted sister Isabella took from me was a grave in the sun. I had already paid the deposit, but the cemetery didn’t dare sell the plot to me. Because the Moretti family’s principessa wanted that plot for her dead dog. But I loved that spot. So I called my mother, the Donna of the Moretti family. Her voice cooled the moment I mentioned the grave： “Adriana, are you still pretending you have gastric cancer?” “Isabella just lost her dog. She’s suffered enough. Stop trying to take something else from her.” My father rejected my call. My brother, Luca, answered while helping Isabella choose the dog’s headstone. “Stop buying graves to frighten us. Why are you always so petty? Can't you stand to see your sister have anything good?” I looked at the oncologist’s report in my hand. Seven days. Maybe less. So even when I was truly dying, no one believed me. I chose the only plot left at the edge of the cemetery, where sunlight never reached, and signed the contract. Then I blocked my family one by one. They were right. I needed to stop begging them to care and remove myself from their lives for good. Seven days later, I died alone. That was when the Morettis finally believed me. And lost their minds with regret.

At the altar, right before we exchanged rings, my husband Julian stopped. "The heads of both families are here," he said. "Let's get this out in the open." A pause. "Seraphina Gallo... she's carrying my child. Three months" I stood there in my pure white, handmade gown. "What did you say?" He adjusted his cuff. So elegant. "The next heir to the Valenti family can't be a bastard." He looked at me with those blue eyes I used to drown in. "Don't worry. You'll still be my only woman. You just can't have the title of Donna. I'll sign over the Upper East Side penthouse. I'll take care of you." Take care of me? Ten years. An engagement ring. Now, a joke for the entire New York underworld. The antique Cartier cross my mother left me—our promise to each other—was still on his neck. I reached for it. He grabbed my wrist, frowning. "Alessia, don't make a scene. Don't embarrass your dying father." My father. Lying in a private suite, kept alive by a machine that cost a fortune. He'd mortgaged his life's work—his leather shop—for this wedding. Snickers from the guests. Julian's mother, matriarch of the Valenti family smirked. "Don't blame my Julian. A purse-maker's daughter marrying into a Cosa Nostra family? Pure fantasy." Through my tears, I saw a man leaning against the church doorframe. Caspian. Everyone knew him. The unkillable underground fighter from the docks. A plaything for the rich to bet on in their cages. He must have just come from a deathmatch—he smelled of motor oil and blood. He just stood there, watching this train wreck. The entire mob knew this beast. Came from the slums, no parents, lived in a leaky warehouse nobody dared go near. I ripped off my veil and pointed straight at him. "Julian Valenti, I'm not marrying you. I'm marrying him."

My father died. He left me a contract. A marriage to the Donovans. The Chicago Outfit. He wanted the future Don to protect me. The whole family's power, wrapped around me for life. But on my wedding day to the eldest, Finn… he ran. Took my family housekeeper's daughter with him. His brother, Cillian Donovan, stepped up. He married me instead. Wedding night. I was in the music room. Alone. Playing the cello. A sad song for my father. Cillian kicked the door open. His eyes were bloodshot. Pure jealousy. A sneer on his face. “Does marrying me instead of Finn really hurt you this much?” For the next five years, he brought women home. Different ones. Kissing them in my rose garden. Fucking them in our bed. I swallowed it all. Played the part. The perfect Donna of the Donovan family. Until today. When he kept his latest toy around for four months. My heart hit the floor. She clung to Cillian's arm, her red lips at his ear. “Cillian, the way your wife looks at me… like she wants to eat me alive.” Cillian stroked her hair, not really caring. His eyes found mine. A cruel smile. “My wife? She doesn't want to be. She wants to be his woman. The traitor's.” That night, a rival family hit the estate. Fire everywhere. Cillian grabbed his girl. Ran for the armored car. No hesitation. I was on the ground. Smoke in my lungs. Couldn't move. I watched him drive away. Leaving me in the dust. Something inside me just… snapped. Five years of this bullshit marriage. I was going to end it. Myself. …

After I was kidnapped by my Family’s enemies, I was left with severe PTSD. I couldn’t stand the noise of intense sound. On our wedding day, my husband, the Mafia Don Andre, swore before God that he would create a world of silence for me. For five years, he never wore any device that made a sound. He even ordered that no gunshots were to be heard anywhere in Sicily, losing several major deals because of it. Until my best friend Alice returned to Sicily and openly played rock music inside the estate. The terror of being kidnapped came rushing back. I crawled onto the floor, begging and apologizing over and over. Tears mixed with the blood running down my face as I kept hitting my head against the ground. Half an hour later, the music stopped. Alice held up her phone, laughing so hard she could barely stand. “Oh my God. She actually thought she was being kidnapped again.” Andre recorded my humiliation with a phone in his hand while laughing and comforting me. “Alice said this is exposure therapy. After a few more times, you won’t be afraid anymore.” My brother stared at me through the screen and scolded me from the other side. “Monica, look at yourself. How can you possibly be worthy of being a Donna?” My entire body was drenched in sweat. My hair was covered in blood, and I couldn’t even stand. I stared at the note in Andre’s hand, and realized. Last month, he was the one who replaced my noise-canceling headphones with headphones that played nothing but loud noises. Last week, he was the one who took me to that noisy bar. The silence he once built for me was now being destroyed by his own hands. Slowly, I pushed myself up from the floor. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I simply looked at him.I no longer wanted to remain in his world.

Before my wedding, my parents and my best friend shoved me into the storage room. “Stay hidden and keep quiet. Wait for the Godfather to come find you. That’s the only way you’ll find happiness!” I curled up in the corner, waiting from dawn until nightfall, but no one ever came. Just as I was about to push the door open, I realized the storage room had been locked from the outside. I pounded on the door with all my strength, smashing at the lock until my hands were covered in blood. But when I finally made it to the wedding venue, I saw my twin sister wearing my wedding dress, her arm linked through my fiancé’s as they prepared to walk onto the stage and exchange their vows. “Are you sure this is okay? I’m afraid my sister will be angry.” Beth shyly leaned into Edward’s arms and whispered. My best friend, Alice, laughed. “What are you afraid of?” “You were the one who fell for Edward first. You’re just taking back what was always yours.” “Besides, she’s locked in the storage room right now. She’ll never find out!” Edward nodded and tightened his arm around Beth’s waist. “Let’s just think of it as fulfilling the marriage we never got to have. She deserves it.” My parents watched from the side and let out a wistful sigh. “If it weren’t for Monica, this wedding would have been Beth’s in the first place.” “I wish more than anything that Beth and Edward could be together.” I stood frozen in place, cold spreading through my entire body. So everyone had been in on this deception, while I was the only one kept in the dark. If that was the case, then I wanted nothing to do with this fake marriage or this fake love ever again.

"I crossed a line. I fell for Ilaria." On our wedding day, the car had barely pulled away when Matteo Rossi turned to look at me. He pointed at the seat beneath me and said coldly, "Last night, she sat right there, wrapped her legs around my waist and kissed me. I couldn't hold back. We had sex in the car. "I guess I'm no different from any other man. I finally understand Luca. Ilaria really does have more fire in her than you." Luca was my ex-husband and Matteo's half-brother. Ilaria had been my only friend since childhood. Three years ago, I walked in on the two of them in my bedroom. The shock caused a late-term miscarriage. When I fell into the dark, Matteo was my light. And now he had betrayed me the same way.

To repay Victor for saving my life, I gave up a brilliant career as one of America's finest neurosurgeons and willingly became his trophy wife. For seven years, Victor lavished money on me and treated me with bone-deep tenderness. Yet his obsessive rules suffocated me. Every other week, I had to subject my scalp to agonizing bleach treatments to keep my hair icy platinum. I had to bathe in a discontinued Venetian white iris perfume. And I had to wear a fake beauty mark at the corner of my right eye. I once mistook it all for the obsessive devotion of a Mafia Don. Then, on the eve of our wedding of the century, I found a wall covered with portraits of another woman. The measurements of my gown, the carat weight of my ring, even the beauty mark Victor had tattooed beside my eye, all came from a dead woman's final wishes. After seven years of consuming passion, I was never his salvation. I was a living specimen, crafted to harbor the ghost of a dead woman.

Eight years with Marcello Cartel. I took three bullets for him, suffered two miscarriages, and finally, our wedding day was here. But the day before, Marcello said we had to postpone. "Gia’s pregnant." "The kid isn't mine. But we grew up together, and she’s like a sister to me." "I need to marry her first. Otherwise, people will talk, and she’s too fragile to handle the whispers." "We’re pushing our wedding back three years. Don't contact me until then." "You'll explain it to the Commission. Tell them you weren't ready to be the Don's wife." I sent back one word: "Okay." Then I booked a one-way ticket to Paris for three days later. I'm not showing up to his wedding tomorrow. And I'm sure as hell not waiting another three years. Because I am done with him. For good.

On our third wedding anniversary, Lorenzo Falcone came back from Sicily with a chest of jewels. Without thinking, he slid the chest toward my sister Vella and told her to pick first. I stared, eyes wide, and the disappointment slipped out before I could stop it: "Lorenzo. It's our anniversary. Don't I get to choose first?" He faltered for just a second. Then he said: "Lily, as a Donna, you should know how to be gracious. You can't always act like a little girl." I'd heard that for over twenty years. Since I was a child, the eldest daughter of the family, I'd long learned to step aside. Give up the horse I loved. Give up my grandfather's keepsake. Give up the chance to study abroad. Give up the voice that should've been mine. My father told me to be sensible. My mother told me to protect my little sister. When I met Lorenzo, I really thought—foolishly—that I was done giving things up. He'd pull me behind him when the gunshots rang out. He'd hold my hand when the nightmares jolted me awake. He'd say it in front of everyone, so sure of himself: "Lily is my only choice." But I was wrong. Not long after we got married, Vella moved in with us. She said she couldn't bear to be apart from me. Lorenzo promised he would treat her like his own flesh and blood, give her a little extra care. But somewhere along the way, extra attention turned into her first—without him even noticing. After she'd made her picks, she handed me the leftover brooch. Old. Tarnished. "This one suits you, sis." I looked at her. Forced a bitter smile. "Take it all. I don't want any of it." Quietly, I slipped my wedding ring off my finger and tucked it into my bag. Three days from now, I'll place it beside the divorce papers on his pillow. And then I'll walk away. From him. From this city that was never mine to begin with.

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.

After saving Bianca Parisi from the people hunting her down, I bring her to my husband, Alfonso Castagna, the Don of the Famiglia, and beg him to take her in. One year later, Bianca takes a bullet meant for him. Ever since then, Alfonso repeatedly breaks his own rules for her, granting her power in the Famiglia and defending her in every dispute. He admits to being moved by Bianca's love, but he insists that he isn't actually in love with her. He claims that he's remaining faithful to our marriage as long as he doesn't kiss her or sleep with her. He even questions me, "Bianca took a bullet for me. Would you have even done the same for me?" However, he doesn't know that I had once taken a bullet for him and saved his life in the past as well. After I'm pregnant, Alfonso finally sends Bianca away to another location. Everyone says that I've finally won. But I am the only one who knows the truth. He added that location to his private jet's flight path and has been secretly visiting her for four months straight. I finally give up fighting. I had once given up medical school for Alfonso, staying by his side to be his Donna. But now, I have decided that I will reclaim my own life. On the day Alfonso flies off to see Bianca again, I accept an offer from a medical school far away from home and even have him sign the divorce papers himself. He thinks that I have finally been tamed and learned to behave myself, no longer fighting or making a scene and accepting Bianca's presence. However, he doesn't realize that my silence stems from having completely given up on him. What awaits him isn't a submissive wife, but a divorce agreement instead.

When I walked out of the hospital clutching the miscarriage report, dazed and hollow, my husband Enzo called. "Feeling any better? I'll send a car for you. Corinne, you know that as my Donna, you have to follow the family rules. I can't bend them just because of your old stomach issues." "And don't blame Elara. She was only doing what she was told." I answered flatly, "Okay." He laughed. "That's my good girl." What Enzo didn't know was that it wasn't just a stomachache. I'd lost the baby. Three hours earlier, when the pain had become unbearable and I tried to leave, Elara had stopped me: "Ten more minutes, Corinne. You shouldn't put Enzo in a difficult position over something so trivial." Enzo. She was always bringing up Enzo in front of me. But the moment I learned I'd lost my child, I no longer wanted to be his obedient Mrs. Moretti. In ten days, I would vanish from his world completely.

According to the Moretti family's rules, my twin sister Chloe and I were supposed to inherit our grandmother's trust when we turned eighteen. But the night before the trust was unlocked, my mother came to us with red-rimmed eyes and told us the family was three million dollars in debt. We needed to pay it off immediately. My fiancé Damian held my hand and moved our wedding date up to the end of the year. He promised we'd face it together. That night, Chloe and I both signed the waiver. Three days later, I got my Harvard acceptance letter with a full scholarship. I rushed home early to share the news—and walked straight into the living room projector still running. On the screen was a group chat I'd never seen before. It was called "Protect Chloe." [Did she sign?] [She signed. She voluntarily gave up her inheritance. Everything belongs to Chloe now.] [That's what Chloe deserves. Vivian's the older sister. She should be the one to give in.] [She doesn't need that much money anyway. She'll have the Salvatorre Donna title soon enough.] Because I was born ten minutes before Chloe, my parents had always favored her. And now, even my fiancé had chosen her side. I didn't say a word. I confirmed my Harvard enrollment and booked a flight to Boston. They thought I'd do what I always did—get angry, cry, then come crawling back. But this time, I was really done with them.

After five years by Leonardo Rizzo's side through bloodshed and gunfire, I had finally made it to our wedding day. In those five years, my surgical skill had earned me a reputation throughout Chicago. I had saved Leonardo more times than I could count. But as I stood at the altar in my wedding dress, he walked straight past me and slipped my ring onto his adopted sister Julia Rizzo's finger. My whole body went rigid. Leonardo looked back at me. There was a hint of apology in his voice, but he made no move to take back the ring. "Baby, when Julia and I were children, I promised she'd be my bride at my first wedding. As the Don of the Rizzo family, I can't break a promise. You'll understand, won't you?" Julia smiled and chimed in, "Sofia, we made this promise ten years before you came into his life. Every elder in the family witnessed it. Besides, this is Leonardo's first wedding. He needs a practice run. I'm just helping him rehearse. You understand, don't you?" They exchanged a smile. Suddenly, everything I'd fought for these past five years meant nothing. I tore off my veil and stepped down from the altar. If I had never been his first choice, then I was done with him for good.

All of New York knew that Caspian Solis, the Don of the Solis family, worshipped the ground I walked on. Then an ambush left him with amnesia. Not only did he forget me and our twenty years together, but he also mistook his secretary, Ivy, for the love of his life. He tossed our matching bracelets and stared at me with dead eyes. "You are not my type. Ivy is the woman I love." My heart shattered. I tried everything to help him remember. Until I overheard a conversation between him and his right-hand man: "Don, how long are you going to keep this up? What if your wife finds out you are faking the amnesia?" Caspian exhaled a cloud of cigar smoke, completely unbothered. "She won't." "I just want to have some fun while I am young. Eating the same meal every day gets stale, doesn't it?" "When I have had my fill, I will tell her my memory came back. After all, Lorelai is the one I truly love." Standing outside the door, I felt violently sick. A thought sparked in my mind: If Caspian could fake amnesia to play me, why couldn't I? So, I accidentally fell down a flight of stairs. When I woke up, I locked eyes with Caspian's ally and biggest rival—Zane, the most feared Don in New York. I smiled and threw myself into his arms. "There you are, darling."

Three nights before my wedding, our families played a “lucky key” game. Each woman drew a key to one of the gift cases. Everyone said the assignments were random. My key opened an empty case. Inside was a single card. THANK YOU FOR PLAYING. My fiancé, Damian Valenti, touched my shoulder. “Your luck has always been terrible.” My childhood friend, Luca Ferraro, lowered his voice. “Smile. Don’t let everyone think you’re a sore loser.” My half sister, Sienna, drew the grand prize. Her case held a vintage Valenti brooch, the Mediterranean vacation I had spent months planning, and a card Luca had written himself. Whatever happens, we will always protect you. I smiled for the photographs and returned my card to the empty case. It was only a game. Someone had to lose. Then I passed the club office and heard the coordinator checking the list. “Grand prize for Miss Sienna Russo. Empty case for Miss Alessandra Russo. Mr. Valenti, were those the correct assignments?” Damian paused. “Yes. Sienna would have cried if she had drawn the empty case. Alessandra can handle disappointment.” Luca laughed. “She always does. She’ll find a graceful way to explain it.” They had rigged the game because Sienna’s tears were inconvenient, while my disappointment was easy to ignore. I smiled, walked away, and decided to cancel the wedding scheduled for three days later. They could keep their rigged game. I was done playing.

I stood beside Luca as he went from a poor boy to the most powerful man in Chicago. I saved him, and an explosion crushed my spine. I would never dance again. Later, I was diagnosed with late-stage cancer. In that time, a woman appeared at his side. Beautiful, clever, from a powerful family. She could stand beside him, sit in on his deals, solve his problems. And I could only sit in a wheelchair. Everyone said I was holding Luca back. I thought so too. So I left him, meaning to go and die alone

To expand my family's arms empire, I personally blew our old base sky-high. As I surveyed the charred ruins, I filmed a video and posted it on social media. I joked that my family had suffered a crushing defeat in a turf war and that I would have to wait tables to survive. My fiancé Antonio, who had always doted on me, called immediately. Feeling mischievous, I pretended to be afraid and tested him. "Anton, my home has been leveled, and our enemies are hunting me down everywhere… I’m terrified. Will you run away with me?" To my surprise, Antonio gave a cold laugh on the other end of the line and snapped at me. "Know your place, Ophelia. Without your status as the Don’s daughter, you should thank God I even called you! What rotten luck. Don’t lead your enemies to me. We’re through!" He hung up without another word. I stood there stunned. The moment I recovered, I saw his public announcement. In the photo, he was kissing the hand of the daughter of my family’s sworn enemy. The caption read: "For the rest of my life, loyal only to a true queen." I stared at the photo, then lowered my gaze to the engagement ring I had chosen so carefully. The irony was bitter. Perhaps it was for the best. I had planned to give him the underground arms route that controlled the lifeblood of Sicily’s arms trade as a wedding surprise. Now it would serve another owner just as well.