Familial Bond Mafia Short Stories & Revenge Novels

The day I inherited Grandpa's "Peacemaker," I received a call from myself, ten years in the future. "Sienna, don't give that gun to Lorenzo." I obeyed without question. That night, forced to use his faulty Glock, Lorenzo was beaten into a vegetative state during a duel. Guilt nearly broke me, but my parents nursed me back to health. Or so I thought. "You idiot," my future self sneered. "It was a lie to get you on the operating table. They want your heart for your brother!" Finding a transplant agreement in my father's study, I publicly severed ties with the Morettis. Only later, after Lorenzo died from rejection, did I learn they just needed my rare blood, not my heart. I wanted to return and atone, but the phone rang again. "Your parents will kill you for honor. Don't go back." I waited. But instead of assassins, news arrived: the Morettis had been slaughtered by rivals. I bolted for home, only to be mowed down by a black sedan. As I died, I couldn't understand why my future self had orchestrated my end. Then I opened my eyes. I was back at the ceremony.

Six years ago, my sister and I fell for the same man, Edmund. But he only had eyes for Rosalie, the sweet, innocent type. With them, I was always the third wheel. They got married, of course. And on their wedding day, I overheard my parents whispering. "The company's strapped for cash," my father said. "What if we marry Corinne off to our business partner? That'd solve our problem..." This "partner" was over fifty and twice divorced. So I ran. I fled to Sicily with the only five thousand dollars to my name. I ran on pure bitterness. In four years, I brought dozens of small-time Sicilian crews to heel and forged my own family: Vexille. In another two, I came back to New York and quietly became the most powerful woman in the North American underworld. By then, Edmund's power was crumbling, hit hard by a rival family. That's when my mother called, her voice full of that same old entitlement. "Your brother-in-law's in some trouble. Figure out a way to help him." Then a text from my sister, Rosalie, dripping with contempt: "Sister, I remember you have a little casino in Sicily, right? So you must know something about that Vexille family." "Edmund needs their help. See what you can dig up." They still don't know. I'm the Don of the Vexille family. I glanced at the schedule my advisor had prepared. Tomorrow, 9:00 AM. A sit-down with some minor family looking for a handout. The name on the file: Edmund.

After my husband, Don of the Rizzo family, died in a shootout, I took over the family and wiped out the one that killed him. To groom my daughter into the next heir, I handpicked four adopted sons to protect her. Ten years. I poured everything into them—my name, my money, my time. And every last one of them turned out exceptional and self-reliant. Over the years, with them at her side, my daughter moved forward steadily. Until the month before my daughter was about to take over my position, I got a desperate call from her. "Mom, help me... someone's got me trapped in the banquet hall. They're trying to rip my clothes off..." By the time I got there, my daughter was curled up in a corner, half her gown torn apart. And the four adopted sons I'd raised with my own hands? Standing outside the door with some girl, watching the show. All of this—because my daughter had gotten into an argument with her. When they saw me, there wasn't a shred of guilt on their faces. Just impatience. The eldest stepped in front of the girl. "Mom, she's the one who mouthed off first and pissed Isabella off. Since she never learned to respect people, I figured I'd teach her some manners for you." The third one's eyes flickered with disrespect. "Handling our little sister—that's not something you need to worry about." One look at their smug faces and I was done. Clearly, they'd forgotten who the real head of this family is.

The Moretti Family raised a stable of orphans to be its next heir. I was one of them. But in every test, I always came out second best. Lucia always came out on top. Then, just before the bid that would decide the heir, I was bound to a Switching System. Comments scrolled past my eyes: [Oh, it's over. The villainess has always been jealous of the main character, Lucia, for getting first place. She’s definitely using the system to swap their proposals!] [Good thing Lucia can hear Olivia’s conversation with the system. She’s already planning to hand in a blank sheet of paper.] [So what if the villainess schemes all she wants? All she’ll get is a blank page! In the end, Lucia will inherit the Moretti Family and become the new Don! So satisfying!] Just then, the system prompted: [Please designate your switch target.] Without a second's hesitation, I thought, "Lucia." The moment I did, I saw Lucia shoot me a strange, triumphant look. I knew then. She'd heard everything. But she had no idea. I wasn't swapping her proposal. I was taking what was most precious to her.

The day Victor Moretti told me he was the Sicilian Don's heir, he also handed me a bill for everything he had spent on me over the years. "Elena, the Family will never let a woman who came to me for money become its next Donna." He pushed the ledger across the table to me. From the hot dogs we shared when we first got together to the condoms we used the first time we slept together. From the mattress-cleaning bill he had fronted to the hospital bill for my miscarriage. Thirty-seven thousand five hundred dollars in total. Every single item, down to the cent. I looked at the man I had loved for five years, swallowed the taste of blood rising in my throat, and kept my voice low. "I have to settle my mother's surgery bill first. I'll pay you back next month." Victor frowned at once. "Camilla was right about you. Women who come from nothing, like you, always have an excuse. I should have listened to her. I never should have broken the rules and gotten involved with you at all. Fine. One month. But you'll pay the same interest rate the Family charges its borrowers." I gritted my teeth but didn't argue. I silently accepted the condition. But the hospital's billing desk had another shock waiting for me. A clerk told me the balance in my account was down to one dollar. The hundred and fifty thousand I had scraped together from every corner of my life to save her was gone. Shaking all over, I called Victor. His tone was as condescending as ever. "I hacked into your account. Camilla Marchetti wanted an antique jeweled necklace, and she was a hundred and fifty thousand dollars short." "It comes to more than what you owe me. Consider the difference payment for the damage you did to my Family's name." With two casual sentences, he had turned my mother's life into a bauble at the throat of a mafia boss's daughter. The call ended. Then a nurse behind me said, "Miss Hayes... you don't need to pay. Your mother... she just took her own life... She said she didn't want to be a bur