Historias cortas de Feel-Good Story Mafia y novelas ambientadas en Revenge

I am the lawfully wedded wife of Don Jones—the Donna of the Jones Family—and the founding CEO of his medical empire. I stood by Vincent's side as we built it up from a two-room surgical clinic into the crown jewel of European private healthcare. Then, in my eighth month of pregnancy, dying on the operating table, Vincent pulled every surgeon out of my maternity ward for the sake of his mistress. He killed our child with his own hands. He stripped me of the right to ever be a mother. He thought I was a homeless orphan with nowhere to go. He had no idea I was the sole blood heir of the Belmonte Family. After the divorce, I came home to command a global medical empire. He knelt and begged. I watched, cold-eyed, as he fell into hell.

The day his first love came back, I became a thief of the Moretti family. One word of grievance from her, and I was brought before the Family Council. Her single tear cost me twenty lashes. Lucien took away my ring, my power, and gave everything that was mine to another woman. Later, I finally stopped explaining. Because I knew a man who would never trust me was not worth waiting for. It wasn't until he saw my "body" being carried out that he finally went mad.

I grew up fatherless, clawing my way through the Chicago underbelly with my mom. She always said he loved us. That he just had to go far, far away. Until she got terminally ill. I dropped out of design school and rushed back, ready to drain our life savings to treat her. But she put a pair of scissors to her own throat. She told me not to touch the cash. It was the only thing she had to leave me. I pretended to agree. But the second I turned around, I took our fifty grand and ran to Mr. Sal, the neighborhood's back-alley doctor. I begged him to save her. "Fifty grand? This buys her three months. Tops." He lit a cigarette. Through the smoke, his eyes bored into me. Like he was looking at a ghost. "Your mother... she was once the brightest jewel in Chicago. Gave it all up for a man. That man took her money and became the city's real estate king. He's Mob-connected. Maybe you should go ask him for help." I took that poison home with me. And I didn't breathe a word. When she found out I spent the money, she held me and cried. "My foolish girl, why are you so stubborn? I'm dying anyway. What about your school? How will you pay for it?" But while I took care of her, I tore through all her old things, looking for proof of that bastard's betrayal. On the night of his empire's 20th-anniversary gala, I crashed his party. I brought two things: a blood-stained marriage certificate, and a lawyer. "I'm looking for Nico Russo. He can either honor a twenty-year-old marriage... or he can sign these divorce papers."

In my last life, I single-handedly wiped out a rival gang, winning great honor for the Family. My mother handed me control of her private arsenal, worth hundreds of millions. Before I could even take inventory, the convent orphan my family had adopted quietly changed the codes, and handed the entire shipment to homeless men in slums controlled by our enemies. Staring down my gun, she crossed herself, her face full of pity. "God tells us to love the world, Alessia. Sitting on all those instruments of murder is a sin. I am only atoning for you." I scoffed, but one second before I pulled the trigger, my childhood friend, the Family's top killer, shot the gun from my hand and denounced me as bloodthirsty, cruel, and incapable of empathy. My older brother, the new Don, only sneered and stripped me of my inheritance on the spot. He threw me into the lowest end of the red-light district to wash dishes until the violence had been ground out of me. That same night, addicts from the rival gang cornered me at the end of an alley, stabbed me more than twenty times, then dumped me into the Thames. I opened my eyes, and I was back on the day the orphan girl walked toward the arsenal with my key in her hand.

One second before the ceremony was set to begin, my groom, Alvin Mercer, suddenly turned and walked out. "Lillian, Hannah's exhibition is falling apart. She's home alone right now and I have to be with her. We'll reschedule the wedding." Hannah Deneuve was the maid's daughter he'd grown up with. I caught him by the cuff. My voice came out flat and cold. "Alvin, this is the sixth time you have called off our wedding for her. If you walk out that door today, you and I are finished." But Alvin flung my hand off. "Enough! We can get married any time. Hannah needs me right now!" He left without looking back, and my heart slowly went cold. The priest clutched his Bible, visibly uncomfortable, and quietly asked me whether the ceremony should continue. I looked past a room full of stunned guests, straight at the man sitting in the corner of the very last row. "Of course. "Just with a different groom."

As the only daughter of the Rossi family, I had three exceptional men handpicked and raised by my mother as potential husbands. Once, they had gone to extraordinary lengths to win my affection. One bought me a centuries-old watchtower on the Sicilian coast. Another presented me with a one-of-a-kind black diamond ring. Then Blair, the daughter of our longtime butler, returned from boarding school, and all three men became obsessed with her. They adored her kindness, her innocence, and her delicate nature. Meanwhile, they condemned me for the coldness and ruthlessness I had developed after growing up in a world of blood and violence. Once they had broken my heart beyond repair, I washed my hands of the three ungrateful bastards and agreed to marry Vito Capello, the Don of the Capello family, who had been left in a vegetative state. The news shattered their pride. What I couldn’t understand was why they still thought I was playing hard to get—even after I became Vito’s Donna.

Eight months pregnant, a contraction tore through me like a blade. But my husband, the Mafia boss Darren, refused to take me to the hospital. His sister-in-law, Angelina, his late brother's widow, was also due. To ensure she gave birth before me, she produced so-called proof of my infidelity, insisting the child I carried was no true Falcone. Because the heir to the Falcone family had to be the firstborn grandson. Darren believed her. He locked me in an abandoned wine cellar. “Don't think for a second I don't know what you've been up to.” “Let me tell you, you're not giving birth to that bastard until I've verified its bloodline myself.” “Angelina’s boy is of pure blood. I have to make sure her boy is the family's firstborn grandson.” I tried desperately to explain. “My water is about to break! Please, take me to the hospital! He’s your son, I swear on my life!” “I’ll never fight for the position of heir! I just want my baby to be safe!” Darren simply kicked me and shot me a glance. “Who knows if you’ll change your mind later? Don’t worry. I’ll come for you after Angelina gives birth. When the baby is born, I’ll see for myself whose it is.” Later, as he gazed at the crying infant in Angelina's arms, he finally thought of me. But one of his men informed him, his voice trembling: “Boss, the Madam… and the child… they're both dead.”

Five days before my wedding, a group of MadeMen drag me to an underground casino. "I'm the fiancé of Lorenzo Gambino, Don of the Gambino family and Gambino Corporation! Think of the consequences you'll face if you dare touch a hair on my head!" My stern warning is met by mocking laughter. I curl up in agony under the brutal blows of their baseball bats; they pierce my ankles with sharp blades, severing my tendons. I gather the remnants of my consciousness to shield my abdomen, where my and Lorenzo's child grows. Lorenzo finally arrives with hired mercenaries. He razes the underground casino to the ground and saves me. I lie on the hospital bed and force myself to hang on. I don't want to end up in a coma. Unexpectedly, I overhear Lorenzo's conversation with a doctor. "It's not too late to operate, Boss. If we delay this any longer, Ms. Jones won't be able to stand anymore! There are many other ways for you to marry Ms. Valente—why did you have to do this to Ms. Jones?" "Being crippled is the only way Renee will obediently accept my and Kelly's child. I can keep a cripple by my side but not a troublemaker. Kelly values ceremony more than anything—I promised her I would give her a perfect wedding," Lorenzo says coldly. "But… Ms. Jones is pregnant. She's four months along…" "Make her miscarry, then." Tears stream down my face without anyone noticing. It turns out no one wants to bless the wedding I've been looking forward to. If so, any woman who wants to be Lorenzo's wife can have him. He's just a small mafia boss, anyway. I'm going back to being the heiress of the East Coast mafia's Don. I'll be the queen of my own life.

It was our wedding anniversary. But my husband's precious childhood sweetheart just had to go bungee jumping. Even though I'm terrified of heights,my husband forced me to come along to the edge of the cliff with the two of them. Nobody saw it coming when the main safety cable suddenly snapped. In my last life,I risked everything to tackle my husband,Dominic,just as he lunged forward to save her. With no one to catch her,Vanessa plummeted onto the jagged rocks below and ended up paralyzed. That was the start of my living hell. Dominic's revenge was brutal and bloody. In the end,he locked me inside a dark basement freezer at twenty below,freezing me alive into a solid block of ice. Now,I'm back at the exact second crisis strikes. Just like before,Dominic lunges toward Vanessa without a second thought. This time,I smile. And I let go. I'll let their pathetic "true love" rot in hell.

Six months later, Carlo, who once terrorized Port San Vito and forced us to pay protection money, knelt in the muddy water and blocked my path. Red-eyed, he begged me to bring the Moretti convoys back. "Ms. Moretti, if you come back, there'll be no protection money and no parking fees... I'll even pay you." I regarded him coldly and remembered how, six months earlier, he had flicked ash onto my financial statements and looked down at me as he said, "Pay, or get out of Port San Vito."

In the fourth year of our marriage, and a few days for our bond to be deemed permanent by the Mafia council, I found out my babies' deaths were never just a miscarriage. My husband, the same man who swore to protect me, had murdered my babies to please my cousin. They didn't know I had found out, and so nothing could prepare them for the revenge I planned. Hurt me once, shame on me. Hurt me twice… I'd make you wish you were never born.

The day a rat sold out our East Coast safe houses, the FBI got its hands on the addresses of every old base belonging to the Five Families. The Commission gave the order: every associate had to report to the neutral church and register within seventy-two hours. Only those who completed registration would make the evacuation list and be picked up by the convoys. Once the list was sealed, no one could be added. But Viola Romano claimed she was the daughter of the Commission's Chairman. She said her father had already saved a spot for everyone. They didn't need to register, and they could still leave on the priority convoy. My friends believed her and canceled their registrations, one after another. I begged them not to gamble with their lives and told them to register just in case. Viola immediately accused me of being jealous and trying to ruin things for everyone. My boyfriend, Matteo Russo, said I didn't understand power and that I belonged in line with the ordinary members. In my last life, I reported the whole thing to the Commission. Viola was exposed. Everyone managed to register before the deadline and secure a spot on the evacuation list. She was cast out of the Family for impersonating the Chairman's daughter and obstructing an emergency evacuation. In the end, she died in an FBI raid. Everyone said she got what she deserved. They thanked me for saving them. But after we moved into the new safe house, Matteo shot me from behind. The bullet went straight through my heart. The people I'd saved just stood there, watching coldly. "The worst that could've happened to us was getting arrested by the FBI. Viola lost her life!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Viola promised to get everyone onto the evacuation list.

On my wedding day, Matteo Castello's younger adopted sister, Gisella Castello, delivers me a wedding gift consisting of a worn condom. There's a note pressed underneath said condom. "Lucia, I've already tested Matteo for you. He's really good in bed." I lose my mind on the spot. That night, I sleep with three of Matteo's friends, and I make sure to leave hickeys all over my body. The next morning, Matteo kicks open my room door. Soon, a few sacks are tossed into my room, courtesy of his subordinates. The men whom I've slept with the night before are the ones contained in those sacks. Shocked beyond my wits, I let out a blood-curdling scream. I can barely feel my limbs as I scramble away from those sacks. But Matteo reaches out to grip me by the chin and lift my head forcefully. "What are you afraid of? They were already plotting behind my back. I was worried that I might not be able to deal with them without a proper excuse. What I didn't expect is that you, my dear wife, are sweet and understanding enough to give me a reason for doing so." My head buzzes loudly at that moment. I can feel my blood running cold in my veins. Finally, I realize that this is just a trap that Matteo has set up for me. That's when I completely break down. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I do my best to flee from my room, only to get thrown into the punishment chamber in the end. What he doesn't know is that I'm already pregnant at that time. One year later, the punishment chamber's door is finally opened. Sunlight is cast onto my pale face. Everyone tells me that Matteo is here to take me home. Instead of saying anything, I take my phone and head over to a secluded corner, where I place a phone call. "I got released, Mr. Lombardi. Let's meet up."

All I did was reach for a pastry Lila had her eye on, and my childhood sweetheart Luca, the Don's heir of Galvani family, had me thrown in the estate cellar for three days and three nights. His voice was as cold. "I've told you before, Lila is like a sister to me. Why can't you just let her be?" This time I didn't cry or beg. I just looked at him. I had been half out of my mind over this man for more than a decade. I had even slashed my own wrist in front of his father, just to force him into marrying me. Luca looked at me like he was disappointed all over again. "With a temper like yours, how could you ever be the Donna of Galvani family?" "Get down to the cellar and think about what you've done. Come back when you've come to your senses." Then, as if he couldn't quite help himself, he dropped his voice: "Look, as long as you come around and stop making Lila's life difficult, everything goes back to how it was. Okay?" I clenched my jaw. It felt like a blade pressed against my chest. "Okay," I said. Next month, the Don of the Ferrara family will marry me as his Donna. This time, I am done with Luca.

To protect his biological child, the mafia Don deliberately announces to the world that my fiance is his long-lost son. A Rolls-Royce pulls up outside my house. My fiance stares at his custom-tailored suit, his entire body trembling with excitement. I'm about to tell him it's all a lie when he shoves me aside and brushes off his sleeves with disgust, like he's touching something filthy. "Stay away from me. I can smell the poverty on you from here!" "Since I'm the Don's son, our engagement is over. An unwanted nobody like you isn't even fit to lick my boots." I try to explain, but he pulls out a check and slams it against my face—the sharp paper edge slices across my cheek. "Here's a million dollars. Consider it a breakup fee, and don't bother me again. We're not from the same world anymore." Watching the check flutter down into the mud, I quietly dim my phone screen. On it is a text from my father, the mafia Don. "Mia cara figlia, bear with it a little longer. Papa will bring you home soon to take over the family." Since he wants to burn every bridge between us, fine. He can have all this fortune on a silver platter. Whether he'll live long enough to enjoy it is another question entirely.

I’m the best art forger and intel specialist in Chicago. And I fell for the man who owned it all, Don Vincenzo Russo. For ten years, I was his secret, his weapon, and his woman. I built his empire from the shadows. I thought I’d get a ring. After all, every night he was in this city, he was buried inside me, taking his pleasure. He’d whisper that I was his, that no one else felt this good. But this time, after he was finished with me, he announced he was marrying the Russian Bratva princess, Katerina Petrov. That’s when I knew. I wasn’t his woman. I was just a body. For an alliance, for her, he sacrificed me. He left me to die. So I destroyed every piece of the life he gave me. I made one call to my father in Italy. And then, I vanished. But when the Don who owned Chicago couldn't find his favorite toy… he went insane.

I was Liliana Moretti, daughter of one of Black Harbor's mafia families. I had always been gentle, soft-spoken, and afraid of almost everything. I would not even touch a gun. My sister was the exact opposite. Alessandra Moretti was everything I wasn't—smart, capable, bloodthirsty, and ruthless. Once she drew a gun, she never missed. Every mafia family in Black Harbor feared Alessandra. At 22, she took 12 men and seized back Pier Seven, a territory half the city had been fighting over. Three years later, our family's territory had doubled. Even our father knew when to shut up around her. One look from Alessandra was enough. Then she died. Four years later, my father's illegitimate daughter, Gianna Russo, moved into Alessandra's rooms and began taking what was mine. My two daughters had been killed. My father was already forcing me to give up my charity fund, my seat on the family council, and the east-wing suite. My husband, Vincent Bellini, didn't care. There was nothing left for me in that house. Alessandra's portrait was gone from the wall. Gianna sat in her chair, dressed in my daughters' favorite color. Tomorrow, she would officially become a Moretti. My father wanted everything I owned. My brother, Luca Moretti, accused me of betraying the peace Alessandra had died for. And when I finally found evidence about my daughters' deaths, Vincent looked at it and put my phone away. When I had lost all hope, Alessandra came back.

On my birthday, one of my husband’s subordinates leaned close to him and whispered in Russian, “Sasha has a surprise prepared for you tonight.” My husband smiled at me as he finished cutting my cake. Then, in the same language, he replied, “She has quite a few tricks in bed. I’ll see her later. “Just don’t let Madam find out, or I’m afraid I’ll get thrown out.” Everyone around laughed and assured keep it quiet. None of them knew that I’d been fluent in multiple languages since I was a child. What they also didn’t know was that I’d found the hidden phone he kept in the false drawer, where all the filthy videos of him and Sasha were saved. I didn’t confront him. Instead, I contacted a few remaining connections in the Vegas and had them prepare a new identity for me. In three days, Claire Vega would no longer exist, and he would never have me again.

At one of the exclusive private casino parties, my eyes landed on a diamond tiara. The catch? It was the prize for a high-stakes blackjack game. Luckily, poker happens to be one of my many sins. A girl named Elara—whom I once pitied enough to introduce to Throne, hoping she’d land a job—has now declared she wants the tiara too. Naïve. Probably thought beginner’s luck was a real thing. I figured, fine. Let the cards decide. If I win, I walk away with the tiara. If I lose, I’ll find another way to soothe my pride. Easy enough. Thorne, my ever-watchful husband, leaned in and murmured, “Go easy on her.” I didn’t. I won. Beat the dealer faster than her and won the tiara. That girl cried at the table. Thorne didn’t look impressed for once. He rather seemed... irritated. I thought it was for Elara’s sake. Turns out, it was for mine. A year later, same party, different stakes. The grand prize? My own sex video. While holding Elara in his arms, my husband said to me, voice almost amusing, “Don’t you like winning prizes? Then go on. Win our sex tape back.”

When I catch Antonio Ragusa in bed with another woman for the ninth time, he doesn't even look afraid. All he does is glance at the time, get out of bed, and hand his jacket to the woman in bed. Then, he looks at me and asks, "What did the doctor say at your prenatal checkup? Why are you back so early?" When he sees me staring at the woman on the bed, he steps forward to block my sight. "I lost control for a moment. She isn't to blame. If you're mad, just take it out on me." Antonio thinks I'm going to react the way I always do—screaming and starting another fight with my face flushed with rage. But he never expects that this time, I simply smile when I hear it. He's probably forgotten that the five-year alliance between our Famiglie is almost over. And when it does, I can walk away for good.