قصص وروايات قصيرة من فئة Mafia وعن Reborn وتدور في Revenge

In my past life, the Vitale crime family finally claimed me. But my own brother—the family heir—framed me. To protect his precious adopted sister, he accused me of causing her heart attack. My real parents believed him. They dragged me out and dumped me at the iron gates of the family estate. "You're a monster. You don't deserve the Vitale name." Soon after, a rival family tracked me down. I bled out on the cold asphalt. When I opened my eyes, I was back. Back to the exact night that sealed my fate. Nico blocked the current Don, Vincent. He pressed a gun to my forehead. "Father, she's not my sister! She's an imposter!" Disappointment and disgust flashed in their eyes before they turned their backs, disappearing into the dark. I stood in the pouring rain, gripping the family crest pendant—the only proof of my bloodline. Those foolish hopes for family love froze completely in that moment. I didn't argue. I didn't look back. I just vanished into the rainy night. Ten years later, I became the most mysterious surgeon in the North American underworld. Code name: Dawn. Now, the man sitting across from me is Nico Vitale—the family's new Underboss. His hands tremble as he slides a file across my desk. His voice is hoarse. "Doctor, please... you have to save my sister." I stop when I see the name: Isabella Vitale. I look up at his face. Bloodshot eyes. His old arrogance completely gone. I stare at him for a long, long time. Long enough to push down the bloody memories. Finally, I speak. "Your sister... I'm not saving her."

I'm the De Luca family's dirty little secret, their bastard daughter. And I was stupid enough to fall for Marco Moretti, the heir to our rivals. On our wedding day, my sister, Isabella, drugged me. When I woke up, she was wearing my dress. Standing at the altar. Becoming his wife. Heartbroken, I ran to a bar to drown my sorrow. And that’s where I discovered I was pregnant. Marco held me, crying. He swore he loved me, only me. He promised he’d divorce Isabella as soon as our child was born. But on the day I gave birth, Isabella murdered us both. Me and my baby. That’s when I finally understood. Marco would always choose a true-blooded princess of the Cosa Nostra. And me? The bastard? I was just a loose end. A problem to be erased. Then I opened my eyes. I was back. Back on the day she drugged me. Their wedding day. This time, I'm not marrying the heir. I'm marrying the Don. But first... I'm going to ruin this wedding.

On the day of the funeral, Marcus asked me to share him with his sisters-in-law. The moment the news broke, Selena, the eldest brother's wife, hurled her wine glass to the floor. Vivian, the second brother's wife, raised her voice and tore into Marcus for having no sense of decency. But the Hartley family's men dropped to their knees, begging the two widows to become Marcus’s mistresses, to carry on the bloodline in honor of their fallen husbands. I stood off to the side watching, and something in me snapped. I shoved through the crowd, slammed my hands on the long table, and demanded to know exactly what Marcus thought I was to him. I called him no better than a thug. Then I turned on the two sisters-in-law, called them frauds in widow's clothing, and by the end I'd said something unforgivable to just about everyone in that room. After that, I couldn't let it go. I hired a lawyer and sued them for fraud, for a staged marriage. They turned it around on me and said I was plotting to swallow the entire Hartley estate and drive what was left of the family into the ground. My father's business was sabotaged again and again. Three key shipping routes went dark. The dockyard was seized. I was thrown out of the estate and died in a damp basement in Sicily, with no doctor and no family. The landlord found me when he came to collect rent. I only learned the truth after I died. They'd been working together all along. His public reveal of the mistress was merely meant to drive me to snap, giving him a valid excuse to end our marriage. Then I opened my eyes. I was back in that living room, on that same day. The portraits of the two brothers sat on the long table. Selena stood in a black dress, eyes rimmed red. "Marcus, your brother's body is barely cold, and you want us to be your mistresses?" Vivian wore a pale blouse, her voice trembling. "I'd sooner die than betray your brother." This time around, I was going to give them exactly what they asked for.

My little sister, Anna Hale, was a famous surgeon. But I was the only one who knew she couldn't operate at all. During every major operation, I was the one holding the scalpel and spending 12 hours or more on my feet in the OR while she relaxed in her office over coffee. I worked until I collapsed, yet my father, Arthur Hale, the hospital director, always gave Anna the credit for the lives I saved. She was the respected doctor. I had nothing. I was just her stand-in whenever she needed one. One night, I'd barely left the hospital when my father called, his voice ice-cold. "Emma, get back to the OR right now! We just got a critically injured patient. You're helping Anna save him!" I couldn't stand by and let someone die. But as I drove back, a sudden chorus of chatter filled my ears, and floating comments began scrolling before my eyes: [Don't go back! The patient is Salvatore Rinaldi, the old Don of the Rinaldi family. His son arranged the hit so he could take over.] [If you save him, his psycho son will come after you right away. If you don't, he'll pin his father's death on you.] [There's no way out. Save him or not, you're the one who ends up dead.] A chill ran down my spine. My father was still urging me to hurry over the phone. I decided to trust the words floating before my eyes and take my chances. My eyes swept over the area and landed on a section of exterior wall under construction beside the hospital entrance. Without a second's hesitation, I drove straight into it. Now that I'd been in an accident, Anna would have to handle the surgery on her own.

I took my newborn son to my husband’s mafia compound for his christening. His ten-year-old niece, Bianca—the Family’s spoiled little princess—pushed my baby’s stroller straight into the deep end of the freezing pool. My son sank to the bottom. The clinking of champagne glasses drowned out his final struggles. I dove in like a madwoman. But I only pulled out a cold, lifeless body. Because Bianca was "Family blood," the murder was ruled a tragic accident. My father-in-law, the Don, handed me a limitless black card as "compensation." But I didn't want money. I wanted my son. I wanted my Nico! I dropped to my knees. I begged my husband, Matteo, to avenge our baby. Instead, he just held his crying niece and looked at me with dead eyes. "Mandy, she’s just a child. Are you going to destroy one life over a mistake?" Denied my vengeance, I wasted away in our penthouse that long winter, dying a broken woman. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the christening. My husband’s arm was wrapped around my waist. His hot kisses trailed down my neck. "Our boy will be blessed by the priest today." I shoved him away instantly. I called my personal guards. I had them rush my son safely to my family's estate. But later that day, a tiny body still floated in the pool.

The day I came of age, I had to honor the pact: marry a son of the Blackwood family. In my first life, I chose Julian, the man I’d loved for years. But after we were married, he treated me as nothing more than a tool for his pleasure and cheated on me with my adopted sister, Seraphina. They flaunted their affair right in front of me. In the end, they poisoned me, leaving me to die a bitter, hateful death. Reborn, when the Don Blackwood asked who I would choose for the marriage pact, I didn’t hesitate. I pointed to the sickly Damien. This time, I’d let Julian and Seraphina have each other. But this time, Julian was the one filled with regret.

As the Cavallo family's consigliere, I had a perfect record. Time and again, I'd planned hits that left rival territories soaked in blood. But today, they were calling the escape route I'd spent three months perfecting for an operation across the border a trap. They said I'd set our own men up to die. Not one of our men made it out. Every last one of them was dead. Back at the estate, every gun in the room was aimed at me. No one wanted to hear another word out of me. They pinned me to the floor and beat me until my face was a bloody mess. They didn't stop until someone pulled up the dark-web transaction records. Just an hour earlier, someone had put my escape route up for sale on the dark web for 30 million dollars. "Elowen, you'd sell out your own people? What, the family didn't pay you enough?" Riccardo Lombardi, the fiancé I'd grown up with, pressed his gun to my forehead. My adopted sister, Sophia Cavallo, pulled up my bank records. The most recent deposit was for exactly 30 million. Her voice was cold. "Father, the proof is airtight. Execute her according to the code. We owe the men who died that much." The evidence was right there in front of everyone. My father, the Don, looked at me with nothing but disappointment. In the end, he had me strapped to an iron chair and strangled with a wire until my neck snapped. I died with one question still unanswered. How had the plans I kept locked in my safe, behind a combination only I knew, ended up on the dark web? When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day before they accused me.

I had just survived surgery. I took a bullet for the Family. Now, a rogue gangster had me tied up in an abandoned warehouse. My wife had stripped him of his turf. He was carving me up with a combat knife. Meanwhile, my wife mobilized our elite enforcers. She was the Boss of the Costa Family. But she did all this to save her pathetic old flame. He threatened to swallow pills and jump off a roof. This time, I didn’t call her private line for help. I had lived this exact nightmare before. The first time around, I begged her to save me. She ditched her old flame and rushed to the warehouse. I survived the bloodbath. Her old flame overdosed in his penthouse and died. My wife gently stroked my face back then. Her eyes held helpless affection. She even whispered that the coward deserved to die. A payback for my wounds. She promised me an unforgettable surprise for our anniversary a week later. But on our anniversary night, she drugged my wine. She tied me up. She slashed me dozens of times with a poisoned blade! "Caspian! You're my Consigliere! How could you stage a kidnapping just for my attention? You paid a hitman to put on a show! Your wounds aren't even fatal! You liar!" "You like bloody games? I'll show you real hell!" Then, I opened my eyes. The clock had reset. I was back in the warehouse. This time, I'd gladly let her go to her precious old flame.

On my way to a wedding meant to seal an alliance between our families, our enemies kidnapped me. The maid who had look after me since childhood never told my father. Instead, she stole my identity and married William Voss, heir to the Voss family. It took everything I had to escape. When I saw their wedding photo, rage surged through me. I was ready to storm in and expose her when a stream of floating comments appeared before my eyes. [The heroine can't seriously think William knows nothing, can she? He planned everything. He and her maid staged the whole thing so the maid could take her place.] [If she exposes the truth on the wedding day, she'll be an idiot. Even if William has the maid executed on the spot, he'll hate her for it. Once he becomes Don, he'll throw her overboard on their honeymoon and feed her to the sharks.] I stared at the comments, unable to believe what I was reading. Only when I saw the Voss convoy pulling farther away did I run after it. I held up my family crest and called out, "I'm the eldest daughter of the Hathaway family. My maid was kidnapped. For the sake of our families' alliance, will you help me find her?" Sure enough, one of the Voss council members stepped out of the car. A bitter laugh escaped me. William wanted my family's support so he could become Don, but he also wanted my maid. I wasn't about to let him have both. I wanted to see how he would clean up the mess once his plan fell apart.

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.

I woke up from a three-year coma to find another woman beside my parents and my fiancé, Matteo Rossi. Her name was Sofia Bellini, and she had spent those three years with them in my place. Her father, Sal Bellini, had died saving my life in a gunfight. So after I woke up, no one could bring themselves to send her away. I felt guilty too. So whenever she helped herself to my things and my privileges, I let her. I kept letting her, right up until the day Matteo and I were supposed to get married, when my own parents begged me in tears to let my fiancé go save another woman. In the dressing room, I stood in my wedding dress and looked over at Matteo by the window. He was smoking a cigar, his mind somewhere else. I'd known him for more than ten years. One look told me he was torn and worried. The church bells had already rung once. Out there, over 200 guests were waiting for the groom to show up. But Matteo was gripping his phone. On the screen was the last text Sofia had sent him. "Go get married. Don't worry about me." She had ditched her guards and walked alone into a nightclub controlled by our enemies. Now there was gunfire inside. In the end, Matteo came over to me. "I'll go get her. An hour, tops, and I'll be back to finish the ceremony." With that, he turned and walked out. My father went right after him with his men. My mother hesitated for two seconds. Then she let go of my hand too. Twelve minutes later, I walked into the church alone and told every guest the wedding was off.

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.

The most powerful Godfather in the mafia underworld—Dante Costello—had an expensive diamond signet ring custom-made to fit my finger perfectly and sent straight to our home. He said that whoever could wear the ring would become the lady of his family. The Monroe family had long since fallen from grace. All that remained were four women. On ordinary days, we fought endlessly, tearing each other apart. Every single one of us wanted to marry Dante because marrying him meant preserving a life of dignity and comfort. In the first life, the fake heiress, Blair, secretly had the ring resized smaller and married into the family. Dante took one look at her, then had her thrown into the river to drown. “Not her.” In the second life, my cousin, Chloe, underwent plastic surgery to alter her fingers and force the ring on. Dante gifted her a staged car accident. “Still not her.” In the third life, my stepmother, Catherine, clenched her teeth and forced the ring onto her finger. Her blood hadn’t even dried when she married Dante. He coldly slashed her face, then locked her in the basement, where she slowly wasted away until death. By the fourth life, all three of them were terrified. None of them dared to marry him anymore, so they hurriedly pushed me forward instead. I put on the ring. This time, the size was perfect. Just when I thought my good days had finally begun, Dante stabbed me to death on our wedding night, his eyes burning red with madness. After my rebirth, the consigliere of the Dante family delivered the ring once again. This time, all four of us avoided it like the plague.

During a dinner party hosted by the Cassano crime family, a lace garter stained with dried fluid dropped out of Matthew's pocket. He was the Don's son-in-law. When questioned, Matthew insisted I had tried to seduce him, failed, and planted my own underwear on him as a setup. In my past life, I was just a maid for the Cassano family. Simply because I had a killer body and a pretty face, the hot-tempered mafia princess, Caroline, refused to listen to a word I said. She had me fed alive to a venomous snake. My parents came seeking justice, only to end up at the bottom of the river. In this life, I faced Matthew's setup once again. "She sneaked into my booth and threw herself at me! When I rejected her, she planted this on me to ruin my marriage with Caroline!" But I was no longer a lowly maid. I held a Ph.D. in Economics from Yale and served as the Chief Advisor for the Visconti family, a global mafia empire.

I woke up from a nightmare, and I was back. Back in the year the Falcone family went to war with the Morozovs for the shipping lanes. I was the Donna of the Falcone family. The woman they all envied. And the first thing I did? I got rid of the baby in my belly. My husband's child. Don Enzo's. Because in my last life, on the day I gave birth, Enzo held up a baby with blue eyes. His own eyes were blazing. "How dare you sleep with a Morozov," he snarled, "and birth their blue-eyed bastard!" The family sentenced me to death. They threw me in a cell. I didn't learn the truth until the very end. That baby belonged to Eliana—Enzo's first love. She was the one sleeping with our sworn enemy. The Morozovs. And Enzo? He stole my rightful heir and swapped him for her bastard. They made me the family traitor. And left my body to rot in a cold, damp cell. And my own son—his mind twisted by that bitch—stood over my corpse and cursed my name. When I opened my eyes again, I was three months pregnant. I didn't hesitate. I walked into a clinic and ended it. Before I left, I took a different kind of shot. High-grade hormones, straight from the black market. It fakes the signs of pregnancy. Fools even the best blood tests. Enzo needed a baby to cover for Eliana's sins. Fine. Let's play.

Last Christmas—in my past life—I was on vacation when the call came. It was Lucy, the family’s new pet capo, and she was in a panic. She’d blown the deal with the Colombians, she said, and now they were threatening to make us pay. I had to rush back and clean up the mess. I saved the deal, but it still cost us a shipment of hardware. And then Lucy, the one who caused the whole mess, pointed the finger straight at me. “It was Madeline! She gave me bad intel! She must’ve set me up!” The truth? The deal went south because she mouthed off to the Colombians and pissed them off. But Henry, the Godfather I’d served loyally for years, didn't want to hear my side. He just branded me a traitor. He kicked me out of the family and put the word out to every outfit that I was a rat. I had a price on my head. I died in some gutter, my body left for the dogs. When I opened my eyes again, it was just before that Christmas. This time, I walked straight into Henry's study and handed over my family signet. "I want out." This time, I can’t wait to see who’s left holding the bag with the pissed-off Colombians.

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.