Regret Mafia Short Stories & Novels

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.

On our seventh anniversary, Damon, the Don of the Voss family, turned what should have been our wedding into a divorce ceremony for the seventh time. I did not scream or break down sobbing. I only stood in the middle of the hall like a clown while his friends laughed at me. "Evelyn, why aren't you laughing? Don't tell us you're actually mad." Damon came over with a frown and gently wiped the tears from my face. "Evelyn, stop crying." "I promise. This is the last time I'll make a joke like this." I looked at him and suddenly remembered what I had overheard outside his study the night before. "Don, this is the seventh time you've made a fool of Evelyn. Aren't you afraid she'll leave?" Damon was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. "She won't." "Everyone knows Evelyn can't live without me." "Selene once took a bullet for me. Her health has been poor ever since." "She wanted to see Evelyn fooled seven times. I'm only granting her one last wish." "After this, I'll marry Evelyn properly and make her my Donna. I'll give her the grandest wedding as compensation." I had already been humiliated seven times. No matter how deeply I had loved him, no heart could survive being worn down like that. Damon did not know I was the hidden heir of the Hale family. I had never cared about his title as Don. In three days, I would return to my family and accept the marriage alliance.

Dad always said a mafia don's daughter had to be strong, even in the middle of a gunfight. Our family had just been ambushed by a rival crime family. A stray bullet grazed my little sister's arm. Mom cradled her protectively while Dad frantically called for an ambulance. I was the one who'd stood at the front, covering their escape. Now I lay on the ground with three bullets in my body, and nobody even looked at me. "Dad, I... it hurts so much." "You've always been strong. They're just a few bullets, and nothing vital was hit. Stop making such a scene!" Mom glanced back at me, then quickly turned away. "If you can still cry and shout, you can't be hurt that badly. Your sister's already lost so much blood. Are you really going to put her life at risk just to compete for our attention?" Dad patted my head to comfort me. "Rest here for a bit. The ambulance can't take all of us. We'll get your sister to the hospital and come back for you." Then they climbed into the ambulance with my sister and left without another glance. If they'd only looked closely, they would have seen that one of the bullets had also hit the left side of my chest. When I was six, I fell during family training and broke my forearm. All Dad offered was a few words of encouragement. "It's only a small injury. You'll heal soon. Learn to be strong." Later, after they adopted my little sister, she scraped her knee and Mom summoned the family's finest medical team and didn't leave her side for days. I'd spent fifteen years learning to be strong on my own. I was used to it. I lay quietly on the ground, watching the ambulance disappear. Mom, Dad, this time I'm being strong too. But I don't think I'll still be here when you come back.

I took a bullet meant for my uncle, Don Matteo Doria. His mother, Maria Doria, was so moved by what I'd done that she suggested I marry Matteo. But when I woke in the ICU, I learned he was about to get engaged to a young starlet, Claire Russo. When I showed up at their engagement party, every guest expected me to cause a scene. After all, I was the girl the Doria family had spoiled rotten. Matteo ordered his men to protect Claire, then pointed his gun at me. "Vivian, Claire is my old friend's daughter. I won't let you hurt her." Instead, I handed Claire a gift. "I was immature before. This is a little welcome gift for you, Claire." The room went dead silent. Matteo slowly lowered his gun, his eyes full of surprise. I smiled at Matteo and pretended I was fine, even as the pain tore at my heart. "Since you're marrying someone else, give me back the necklace my father left me. "From now on, I'll stay out of your life." In my last life, I caused a huge scene at the engagement party and used Maria's promise to force Matteo to marry me. Without his protection, Claire was murdered by people who were after her parents' inheritance. For the next three years, Matteo kept me locked away on his empty estate while he drowned in grief over Claire's death. Even when I got into a car accident on the way to the hospital and lost the baby, he never came to see me once. Now that I'd been given a second chance, I knew better. I would never chase after Matteo's love again.

Raffaele Moretti, the Mafia Don, once made me a promise. If I proposed to him fifty-one times on livestream for the whole world to see, he would show up for the fifty-second and finally make our relationship public. But when the night of my fifty-second proposal came, Raffaele was in the Maldives with his childhood sweetheart, Gianna. He bought her an entire yacht just to put a smile back on her face. I became the laughingstock of the internet. Later, he sent me an apologetic message. “Gianna was upset. I only went with her because she needed a change of scenery. That's why I missed it. Don't read too much into this.” “I'll say yes when you propose for the fifty-third time. Then you'll be my Donna.” Sure enough, he arrived at my fifty-third livestream in a perfectly tailored suit. And as he watched, I set fire to all fifty-two letters I had written asking him to marry me. Hidden among them was my liver cancer diagnosis. "There won't be a fifty-third chance, Raffaele." Because in a matter of days, I would be dead.

On my birthday, my mafia husband, Alessandro, didn't come home to celebrate with me. He sent a bodyguard with a bouquet of wilting roses and a text message: [Picked these myself from the garden. Happy birthday, love.] A moment later, his right-hand woman, Chloe, posted an Instagram story. It was a fifty-thousand-dollar custom flower box, filled with black roses, their petals embedded with crushed diamonds. The caption read: [My Capo says, "If you love me, you show me devotion that never dies."] I didn't storm the casino to confront him. I just packed my bags and prepared to leave the city. The first day I was gone, word got back to me that Alessandro couldn't care less. He blew a ring of cigar smoke and said, "The world out there is dangerous. She'll be back in a few days, begging me to take her back." The first month I was gone, Alessandro tracked me down with an international call. "I'll buy you a villa in the Heights. Just come back, okay?" But a villa was never what I wanted.

My marriage to Dante Moretti, the heir to the Moretti family, was arranged when we were kids. But after my father died, he publicly refused to marry me. Three times. Each time, he used his dead mother as an excuse, and I couldn't argue. The third time, I walked in on him with some starlet on the anniversary of his mother’s death, and I overheard him sneer: “A boring woman like Isabella? Who the hell would want her?” “So desperate to marry me. It’s pathetic.” I looked down at my white wedding dress, turned on my heel, and knocked on his father's door. Later, on the day I moved into the Moretti estate, I ran into Dante. He thought I was there to force his hand and ran his mouth. But he had no idea I was already his new stepmother.

At the Costa family's annual capo banquet, Marco Costa declared the family would extend protection to one woman only: Rosa Frost, his childhood sweetheart, newly divorced and newly returned to the family fold. One by one, the other women slipped away into the night with their money, their dignity, and fresh protectors already lined up. I, Viola Rossi, once his Donna, was severed from the Costa family entirely, with nowhere left to go. Twenty-one years prior, The System ripped me into this life with a brutal mandate: make one of four made men fall irrevocably in love with me, and I'd earn my way back to my real life with a healthy body. I failed. Every single one of them chose Rosa. The system's final mercy: die here, go home. I stood in a rotting Brooklyn dock warehouse, gun in hand, and closed my eyes. Right as darkness closed in, a raw, raging scream of my name tore through the silence, like the man shouting would burn the whole world apart to reach me.

The entire New York mafia world knows that Don Alessandro of the Rossi family takes a brutal punishment from the Council every year just to marry me. Because the Rossi family has a strict rule: all marriages must be approved by the Council. Yet, for three years in a row, Alessandro submitted our marriage application, and every time, it was rejected! The first year, he was locked in solitary confinement for three days and nights. The second year, his back was whipped raw. The third year, he even knelt in a torrential downpour to beg for their mercy. I always thought it was my fault, that I just wasn’t good enough to meet the Council's standards. It wasn't until the fourth year that I found out all those rejection letters from the Council were forged by Alessandro himself. And the reason was Mia—his secretary who had been secretly obsessed with him for years. "Mia has been by my side for eight years. She took a bullet for me. She held me and cried, saying the day I get married would be the darkest day of her life." "I love Jane, but I just can't bear to hurt Mia." "It just means marrying Jane a little later. She loves me so much, she won't mind." But he was wrong. Even though my heart was breaking, I didn't want this kind of love anymore. I called my father: "Dad, I'm ready to come back to Italy and marry the Don of the Caruso family."

I am a top-notch surgeon. But when my ex-boyfriend —— now the Don of the Blackwood family —— was brought to the hospital injured, even the head nurse advised me against taking the case. Everyone said the Dante Blackwood despised me. Because three years ago—the last time we met—I took off my engagement ring and handed it back to him, then got into the car of Dominic, the Don of Mercer family. But I still put on my white coat and walked in. Not only walked in—I pressed my hand right against his stomach without a shred of hesitation. Before the punch came, it was the killing intent in his eyes. "I told you. Touch me one more time, and I'll break every bone in your body." The interns outside the door were all holding their breath for my safety. I adjusted my gold-rimmed glasses and let out a helpless smile. But the moment I undid the buttons of his shirt, even though his mouth told me to get out, his body couldn't help but tense up.

My best friend, the youngest daughter of the Brown family, Jessica, had just given birth, and I went to see her at the hospital with my husband, Frank James. When I held the little guy in my arms, I could not help but tease him, "Be good, baby boy. Your Godparents are here to see you." Frank, who had been standing at the side quietly, suddenly said, "I'm not his Godfather. He should call me 'father'." He was the Don of the James family and my husband, so I thought I misheard him as I looked up at him in disbelief. Frank smiled and repeated, "That's right. You didn't mishear me. This is my baby. I was with Jessica the day your father had the accident. What a night of passion that was." I was stunned. I felt my throat tighten, unable to believe what was happening. It took me a long time before I finally squeaked something out of my throat, "But we just registered our marriage at the church yesterday…" Frank laughed and pulled me into his arms, nuzzling his lips against my ear. "Don't overthink this. It was over between Jessica and me a long time ago. We just see each other occasionally when we get lonely." After that, he teased, "But I bet you didn't know that before I met you, she used to be the person I trusted most. She's also my first woman." I leaned into his arms stiffly, feeling cold all over. Three years ago, I stayed in a strange family and fought hard for Frank. Three years later, I could also let him go without hesitation and give him up to the other woman. I no longer wanted this man.

My fiancé, Luciano Marino, was the Don of the Marino family, and he was an extremely careful man. For the five years we'd known each other, he'd kept me on his estate outside the city. "Eleanor, you're my weak spot. I'll never let any of my enemies lay a finger on you." "The fewer people who know about you, the safer you are." So I'd never once appeared in public with him, let alone met his family. Three days before our wedding, I was outside the study when I overheard him talking to the butler. "Don, are you sure you want to schedule your wedding to Ms. Vanderhall for the same day, three days from now?" "That's right." "Then... what about Ms. Ashford?" He took a deep drag on his cigar. "Eleanor has always been understanding. She won't mind if I'm a little late." My hand froze before I could push the door open, and my mind went blank. Hands shaking, I opened Instagram on my phone and searched for Eileen Vanderhall's account. Her feed was filled with photos of the two of them. She came and went from Luciano's armory as she pleased, attended his family dinners, and even sat in on meetings with his crew. "He says that when you love someone, you share every part of your life with them." So it wasn't that he refused to let the woman he loved into his life. It was just that the woman wasn't me. Back in my room, I dialed a number. "Dad, I lost the bet. I'm ready to come home and marry the man you picked." ...

At my wedding rehearsal dinner, a photo of me and my fiancé’s older brother—naked in bed—was displayed in front of everyone. I said it was a setup. Jason, my soon-to-be husband and the Don of the Vale, said, “I trust you.” He erased the footage—and married me anyway. For two years, he kept me hidden while my stepsister, Nerissa, stood beside him in public. He said it was to protect me—so I believed him. I believed him even when the rumors said he was sleeping with her, even when he introduced her as his Donna… until today, when I found them in bed together. Jason didn’t even stop kissing her when he saw me. “Do you like this anniversary gift, Alina?” That was when I finally understood— Jason had never believed me—and the reason he still married me wasn’t love. It was punishment.

My husband, Don Lorenzo, ran New York's underworld. And he's the one who put me in prison. All because his childhood flame, Cassandra Viti—the Viti family princess—killed my father. I was the first one on the scene. The Feds caught me standing over the body. He faked the evidence. Made sure I took the fall. I spent three years in hell. His apology? A single sentence and an unlimited black card. "I owe Cassandra three wishes. Once you're out, once I've paid my debt to her, you'll be my Donna again."

Whispers in the underworld mentioned that Jason Marino, heir to the Family with its hands in the cross-continental arms trade, supposedly loved women with slim waists. Since his recent return to the country, his eyes had landed on Sonia Stewart—sworn sister to my fiancé, Andy Black. When Andy found out, he disappeared for three whole days. I finally tracked him down in the Family's club, only to overhear a conversation that shattered my world. "I'm not just going to stand by and watch Sonia marry that playboy Jason," Andy was telling his lieutenant. "On the wedding day, you need to swap Sonia's wedding car with Leona's. No one must find out!" His lieutenant thumped his chest, swearing, "No problem, boss! I'll get it done. But... What about your fiancee, Leona?" Andy let out a confident laugh, as if he were in control of everything. "I'm the Don's hand-picked Consigliere. Jason knows Leona belongs to me, so he won't lay a finger on her. Once I've slept with Sonia, he'll have to give up on her. After that, we'll just send someone to pick Leona up. She won't suspect a thing. Instead, she'll be scared and trembling… Pathetic but adorable nonetheless. She'll come running right back to my arms!" Every word was like a bullet leaving holes in my heart, every tone tearing it apart. I stumbled away as fast as I could, praying they wouldn't hear the sound of my heart breaking. When Andy tried to pick me up according to his plan later on, he broke down.

Three months into our marriage, I was cooking dinner when I noticed that every plate, bowl, and cup in the house was smaller than standard dinnerware. That slight difference mattered. Every time I lifted a bowl or wrapped my hand around a cup, I had to adjust my grip to the tighter curve. I held up two bowls of different sizes and asked Damian Moretti why. He said they had simply been custom-made for the Family. That night, a torrential downpour left me stranded at the station after I finished handling Family business. Across the street, inside a restaurant, Damian held a bite of steak to the lips of the young woman opposite him, then gently wiped the sauce from the corner of her mouth. The young woman was the Family's new secretary. One look at the custom dinnerware in front of her, and I understood everything. So that smaller size had been designed for her. I checked my phone. "It's pouring. My old wrist injury is acting up, and I can't hold an umbrella. Can you come get me?" I had sent that message three hours ago. Nothing had come back. He never let me ride in his private armored car or appear at his side at society dinners. In public, he always kept his distance. "As Don, I have to keep my public and private lives separate. The Donna can't draw too much attention, or my men will talk." He held to those boundaries of his so faithfully. It turned out the boundaries only applied to some people. Through the rain, I saw a small plaque on the front passenger seat: CECE ONLY. And suddenly, I no longer wanted to stay in this marriage.

Louis, the Cascino family's Don, canceled the wedding celebration he had promised me for the twelfth time so he could look after his adoptive father's daughter, Jenny. As the family's Donna, I was left to clean up the mess from yet another canceled wedding. When I returned to the estate, I found Jenny lying weakly in Louis's arms. I asked, "Louis, did you cancel our wedding just to stay with her?" Louis cut me off immediately. "Shirley, can't you be a little more understanding? Jenny's father adopted me when I was young. Now that he has passed away, I can't abandon her when she has come to me for help." Jenny started coughing again. Louis immediately lowered his head to comfort her, treating me like I wasn't even there. Just one month earlier, I had taken a bullet for Louis during an ambush and had been badly wounded. And yet, he had barely glanced at me. "Jenny gets scared easily. I need to spend more time with her. A wound like that is nothing to you." With that, he turned and headed for the VIP hospital room next door, reserved for the still shaken Jenny. Even now, Louis was still whispering reassurances to the woman in his arms. "Don't be scared. I'll always take care of you. I won't let anyone push you around." Watching all of this, I turned and walked out of the room. I no longer wanted to give everything to someone who treated me like I didn't exist. This time, I chose to leave.

On the third anniversary of my marriage to Leon Castellano, the most powerful mafia boss in Chicago, I waited for him alone all night in a cabin up on the snowy mountain. A blizzard had sealed off the mountain. The ice cream cake on the table melted down to nothing. I kept calling Leon, but his phone went unanswered. In the early hours, he finally called back, his voice rough with drink. "Sorry. Cecilia's back. I went to pick her up from the airport and forgo our anniversaryt." He left me stranded on that mountain all night. I walked down alone the next morning, and a ranger passing by picked me up in his truck. He didn't know that after that night, I took off my wedding ring. He didn't know that the woman who'd stolen my credit for saving his life was tearing our marriage apart, step by step. That day, Leon slammed the divorce papers down in front of me, his words dripping with disgust and scorn. "Who do you think you are, claiming the credit for Cecilia's kindness to me? She is the sole legitimate heir of the Rosse family, and you? You're nothing but a mistress's bastard! If you hadn't deceived me back then, I would never have missed out on all those years with her!" Something in me finally let go. I signed the papers, faked my death, and flew off into the Sicilian night without looking back. Three years later, I met him again as the princess of Europe's Moretti family. And then Leon was the one full of regret.

The moment I find out about my pregnancy, a notification from Twitter is displayed on my phone. Apparently, it's a tweet posted by my husband, Don Romano Caliendo's childhood friend, Teresa Fiorino. "Thanks to your sperm, I get to have a child of my own during the last stage of my life." The accompanying photo is a pregnancy test that clearly states that the sperm donor is Romano. I leave a question mark in the comment section. In just half a minute, my phone begins ringing loudly. Romano's angry voice bursts from the loudspeakers immediately. I've only heard him adapt such a tone whenever he gets mad at others during family meetings. "What did you mean by that comment, Selene Gardo? Teresa is dying from cancer! All she wants is to have a baby to keep her company before she breathes her last! Don't you have any sympathy for her at all?" Before I can put down my phone, my Twitter homepage gets refreshed. This time, Teresa has uploaded another photo. It features a luxurious deluxe-style apartment, where the floor-to-ceiling windows showcase the breathtaking cityscape of Brindleport at night. The caption reads, "Thank you for giving me a home so that I don't feel lonely in my final days." In a corner of the photo, Romano can be seen crouching on the floor while piecing a baby cot together. His side profile shows how focused he is on the task. As I wipe my tears from the corners of my eyes, I silently caress my flat belly, which has yet to show any changes. I'll take you far, far away from here, my dear baby.

My mother, Donna Isabella, had one rule. Every major family verdict was decided by a set of custom chips. One for each of us. The side with the family crest meant protection. Backing. The blank side meant accusation. Guilt. Majority rules. Once, my brother Nico broke a priceless vase and blamed it on me. Isabella saw the whole thing happen. But she still slammed her chip onto the table in front of everyone. Blank side up. I was locked in the damp wine cellar for a week. "Nico is the heir to the family," she told me. "Take the fall for him. It's your duty." Then there was my sister, Sofia. She flaunted the "Heart of Eternity" necklace right in my face. It was my design. It was supposed to be my engagement gift. I snatched it back, and she ran crying to Mother. Isabella called another family meeting. The chips on the table? All blank-side up. Sofia kept the necklace around her neck, and I had to apologize. But I was born stubborn. Put a gun to my head. I still won't confess. Isabella pointed at the chips. "Your father and brother voted against you. Are we all liars?" Until the day on the yacht. I caught my fiancé. Naked. Tangled in the sheets with my sweet, pathetic little sister. Isabella didn't ask why they betrayed the engagement. Instead, she slapped me hard across the face. Then she brought out that chip box. Five blanks. One crest. My fiancé, Julian, flipped the last blank chip himself. "Aurora, Sofia swore she'd go to a convent. Why are you doing this?" I picked up that single, lonely crest-side-up chip and threw it back into the box. "I did nothing wrong." Isabella stared at me. She slowly shut the box. "Today, you're going to learn something. In our world, 'right or wrong' doesn't mean a damn thing." ...