Cerita Pendek & Novel Mafia After Death

My adopted sister, Sofia Leone, was the orphaned daughter of my father's most loyal right-hand man, Enzo Bellini. She'd just been diagnosed with kidney failure. Just because our blood types matched, my family ordered me to give her one of my kidneys. I refused and fought them on it for three months. Everyone in the Leone family called me cold and selfish behind my back, saying I'd rather stand by and watch my own family die. The day Sofia came out of emergency surgery, my brother, Dylan Leone, came to my room looking exhausted. He was the future Don of the Leone family. "Sofia's still so young. Her life is only just beginning. "It's just one kidney. It won't really affect your health. Aria, please. I'm begging you." The moment he finished, Sofia called him, sobbing. "Does Aria still want me dead? Maybe I... wasn't meant to live?" Dylan's voice was soft as he comforted her, but his eyes were full of grief. "Don't talk like that. I'll find a way, I promise." When I was in middle school, I was kidnapped by another family. Dylan stormed in alone to rescue me and took three bullets. Then he carried me out on his back while I shook uncontrollably. "As long as I'm around, nobody's ever going to hurt my little princess." Now he'd forgotten that I had a clotting disorder and couldn't safely undergo major surgery. Just then, my doctor, Matteo Conti, texted me my test results from the day before, along with a warning. "Ms. Leone, you have severe bleeding in your digestive tract. You need to be admitted right away!" As Dylan kept telling me how much Sofia was suffering, I suddenly felt so tired. "Fine, Dylan. I'll give it to her."

After five years of marriage, the doctor told me I was pregnant. It was something I had waited for so long. Yet, along with that good news came a nightmare. My medical tests showed that I had cancer, and it had already spread. The doctor gave me less than a month to live. I froze, gripping the report so tightly my knuckles turned white. Tears streamed down my face as I thought about how my unborn child would never get to feel a mother's embrace. My grief was interrupted by the ping of an incoming text message. It was from Mom. [Since you're so selfish and refuse to donate a kidney to save Nattie's life, you should divorce Davon. Let him marry Nattie instead. At least that way, you can fulfill her dying wish.] My tears fell harder. It was not that I refused to donate a kidney to Natalie Rivera, my sister, who was in the final stages of kidney disease. In truth, I only had one kidney left. Five years ago, I had already given one to Dad. Now, with my life counting down to its final days, I decided that I would donate my remaining kidney to Natalie. I would also let my husband, Davon Parker, go with her. Before I went into surgery, my parents praised me for finally being thoughtful, saying I had finally learned to care about my sister. They said that once the surgery was over, the whole family would go on vacation together. Davon even said he was proud that I was no longer selfish and promised he would make it up to me in the future. None of them knew I did not have a future. After the surgery, what would be pushed out of the operating room would be a cold, lifeless body.

Whenever my brother, Matteo Moretti, screwed up, I was the one who got hurt. Because he was the future Don of the Moretti family. My father, Vittorio Moretti, couldn't bring himself to punish the heir he'd so carefully groomed. So he used my pain to shape him. The first time my brother dipped into the family's money without permission, my father froze my accounts and dumped me alone on the roughest stretch of the Palermo docks. I couldn't pay the protection money, and I was nearly dragged into a warehouse and sexually assaulted. In the end, I only got out of there safely by handing over every piece of jewelry I was wearing. The first time my brother let a traitor go, my father had me locked in a basement with that same traitor. By the time my brother got there, the traitor had broken two of my ribs. But all my father could see was my brother. "Take a good look. Going soft will get your family killed." The year I turned 22, my brother was finally about to take over the family. My father said this would be his last lesson. He staged a fake kidnapping with me as the hostage to teach my brother how to negotiate and make hard choices. But the third time I called begging for help, he was still sitting at the Moretti estate with a drink in his hand. "What's the rush? She'll be fine." Even when gunshots came over the line, my father still had no idea. The people who took me weren't his men. Dad. This time, my brother's last lesson cost me my life. Are you happy now?

Two years into my marriage with Luca Mancini, I'd gotten used to waiting. Wait until the accounts were settled—then he'd take me on our honeymoon. Wait until the family meeting was over—then he'd celebrate our anniversary with me. Wait until his men were taken care of—then he'd call the private doctor to see me. I knew how hard it was to sit in the Don's seat, so I never cried or made a scene about it. I even took half the work off his shoulders without being asked. Because of my patience and all the times I stepped back, things between us finally softened. When he was exhausted, he'd lean his head on my shoulder, kiss my forehead, and say: "My Donna, once this busy season is over, I promise I'll make it all up to you." Today was my birthday. He'd promised me half a month ago that he'd spend it with me. I'd booked out an entire restaurant. The cake was cut. I was waiting. But from six to ten, he never showed. Then a photo popped up in my inbox: In the pouring rain, Luca was holding an umbrella, shielding his childhood sweetheart, Anna, tight against his side. The timestamp on the photo read 9:40. Twenty minutes ago. He'd tilted the umbrella over Anna's head, letting the rain soak him through. Then his text came through: "I've got an important meeting. I'll be home late." Looking at that message, I didn't reply "Got it" like the good, understanding wife I always was. I thought I'd gotten used to waiting. I thought if I just cleared every obstacle out of his way, I'd finally get the man who kept his promises. But staring at that photo, my heart sank all the way to the bottom. It was never the waiting I was afraid of. It's just—last month, I was diagnosed with terminal leukemia. This was the last birthday I'd ever have. I stood up, hollow, and walked home alone through the endless sound of rain. The man I'd been waiting for—I couldn't wait for him anymore.

After taking a poisoned drink at a party for my Alpha mate, Magnus Ironwood, I am poisoned with a rare wolfsbane. Since then, my wolf has grown so weak that I can barely maintain a mind-link with the rest of the pack. Magnus travels from pack to pack and to healing centers, searching for healers and praying they can create an antidote for me. On the eve of Spring Hunt Caravan, I force myself out of bed to simmer a pot of meat stew for Magnus and our pup, Ronan Ironwood, only to collapse onto the couch and never wake up again. Moments later, Magnus walks through the door, followed by his assistant, Tala Brightfield, with Ronan in her arms. When he sees me lying on the couch, he sets down the moonstone necklace he buys for me and sighs helplessly. "Don't stay up waiting for us if you're not feeling well, and don't push yourself to make meat stew either." But Tala bursts into tears, "Your Luna doesn't like me, Alpha Magnus! Just half an hour ago, she texted me and told me to stay away from you. I think it's best if I leave." Magnus calls my name. When I don't respond, his expression turns cold, and the tenderness in his eyes is replaced by anger. "Maeve Nightshade! When will you learn the grace of a Luna? Tala has helped me rule this pack, so could you stop throwing these pointless tantrums? "Your antidote is nearly ready. Stop using your poisoning as an excuse to play the victim!" He stands there criticizing my body in front of Ronan, all for another she-wolf. It isn't until he sees my rotting body that he finally loses his mind.

My adopted sister Serena and I went into heart failure at the same time and were admitted to the same hospital. But our parents were certain I was faking it to steal the spotlight, so they gave Serena the heart that was meant to save me. Once she was recovering from surgery, my don fiancé Rafael Valente finally came by my room. "No matter how thoroughly you play the victim, it won't change a thing." "Serena is your little sister. She's only twenty. How could you have the heart to take the organ that was going to save her life?" My face was bloodless. I opened my mouth to say that I was genuinely sick too. The next moment, Serena walked in with our parents and asked me through her tears, "Isabella, do you hate me for taking away everyone's love for you?" Rafael softened his voice and soothed her, patient. "It was always meant to be yours." Our parents shielded Serena behind them and glared at me, furious. I lay in the hospital bed and let out a soft sigh. "Don't worry. I won't 'compete' with Serena for anything ever again." After all, the doctor said I had three days left.

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.

Five years ago, on our third anniversary, I rejected Matteo's proposal in front of the entire syndicate. I pointed at my stomach. I sneered at the man who used to worship the ground I walked on: "Don't be naive, Matteo. You're just a stray dog from the gutter. I'm carrying the rival boss's heir." It poured that night. He was shattered. He walked away from everything. Five years later, he climbed over a mountain of bodies. He ruled North America as the new Don. He returned to New York and bought out every single debt my family owed. Then, he brought his pregnant fiancée along and kicked down the rusted door to my run-down apartment. He looked down at me with cold eyes. "What's wrong, Princess? Hiding out in a dump like this now?" He had no idea. My body was already in the final stages of transplant rejection. Every single day I stayed alive was just to see his face one last time before I died.

My husband, Matteo Bellini, runs New York's underworld. Everyone said I hit the jackpot when he married me. On our wedding night, right after we made love, he brought in Aria. She was a custom-made AI maid worth millions. Matteo said she had the most advanced lie-detector system in the world. One lie, and I would pay. He kissed me. "My mother betrayed my father. He told me women are all liars. I want to believe you're different, but you have to prove it." From that day on, Aria became my living nightmare. Every time she said I was lying, I got punished. Even when I told the absolute truth. It was always hard slaps and the cold water cell. I cried and begged him. I swore I would never betray him. Matteo just looked at me with cold eyes. He said his expensive AI never made mistakes. To him, I was just a liar. Then came the family yacht party in international waters. For once, Matteo brought me and Aria along. I've had severe phobia of water since I was a kid. I stared into the pitch-black ocean. I clutched my aching chest and shook my head in pure terror. Aria pulled up her cold data screen. "The madam is in perfect health. She is only throwing a tantrum." Matteo's face went cold. He grabbed my arm and dragged me to the edge. "Still lying! You're jumping today!" The moment I hit the water, my heart felt like it exploded. The pain tore through me. I couldn't breathe. My vision faded to black, but his voice cut through the wind: "This will teach you the price of lying to me!" Tears of blood rolled down my face. Matteo, I'm dead now. I'll never make you mad again.

I was dying of kidney failure. Henry Colombo—the ruthless Mafia heir who once swore he’d burn the world to keep me alive— found me a donor. But the price… was her. Susan Miller, the woman who’d always lingered between us, smiled as she set her terms: “Be mine for one month. Pretend you love me—and I’ll save her life.” He agreed. He said it was just to save me. But every lie, every kiss, every photo she posted online was another nail in my coffin. Each time the surgery drew near, she invented a new delay—a fever, a nightmare, a tender bruise. And Henry believed her. He always believed her. The night my heart flatlined on the operating table, he was across the city, feeding her grapes under candlelight, whispering her name—the name of the woman who had let me die. When he finally learned the truth—that every tear she shed was rehearsed, every promise she made was poison— he destroyed everything. Her lies. Her wealth. Her family name. His own empire. But none of it brought me back.

To prove she was fair, Valerie forced me into the family's live-fire drill. She knew I had a severe heart condition. She knew I couldn't stand the sight of blood. Three hours under the blistering sun. My hands shook wildly. I stared at the trembling rabbit tied to the target, terrified to pull the trigger. "You can't even kill a freaking rabbit? How are you supposed to lead this family?" Valerie's icy voice lashed at me from behind. Tears filled my eyes. I finally pulled the trigger. The bullet tore through the rabbit. Blood spattered everywhere. The smell and all that red triggered my blood phobia instantly. Everything went pitch black. Chloe, the intern medic, walked over and grabbed me roughly. Her eyes were full of pure malice. "Underboss, her vitals are totally fine. Is she faking it just to escape training?" Valerie looked down at my pale face. Disgust and disappointment covered her face. "Gemma, is this how I raised you? Everyone else finished. You don't get special treatment." "You finish this drill today—even if it kills you!" Then, my chest stopped moving. Dead silence. My soul floated into the air. I looked down at Mom, filled with guilt and despair. I'm sorry, Mom. This time, I really couldn't hold on.

My marriage to Lucian Hawke was hailed as the most perfect union in the mafia world. As the daughter of the Sinclair family and him being the sole heir of the Hawke family, our marriage united the two most powerful mafia families in the Northeastern. I thought we were unbreakable. Then, I was diagnosed with terminal cancer. As if life couldn’t get any worse, my husband's first love returned—on the very same day. That night, the man I’d been married to for years didn’t come home. The next morning, his voice was cold, distant. Indifferent. “I’ve got the divorce papers ready. When can you come sign them?” I hesitated, struggling to steady my voice. “I’m still at the hospital.” He didn’t even pause. “I don’t care if you're on your deathbed, Elara. Come home and sign the goddamn papers.” My heart shattered, but I refused to let it show. “As you wish, Lucian.” What he didn’t know was that I was dying—literally. A week later, at my funeral, Lucian wearing a tuxedo, weeping at my grave, whispering regrets he should have voiced when I was still breathing. Ironically, my funeral day, was also his wedding day with his sweetheart. But it was too late, my love. This time, you’ll never see me again.

• My mom died saving me during a kidnapping. At least, that’s what everyone believed. My dad—once the man who spoiled me like his little princess—turned his grief into hatred. He adopted a girl who looked just like Mom and gave her all the love that used to be mine. For five years, I lived in that shadow, broken and unwanted. Until the day I was beaten and left for dead… and my mom came back. Alive. He used to call me his treasure. Now he calls me a curse. But the night my mom returned, everything shattered—his lies, his obsession, and the truth I was never meant to know.

As the flames engulfed my body in the underground warehouse, I used the last of my strength to call my brother, the new Don of the Moretti family. Just as I was about to draw my last breath, Lorenzo finally answered, his voice as cold as the Sicilian winter wind. "Isabella, what the hell are you up to now?" "Brother, save me…" My voice was barely a whisper, but he cut me off without a hint of mercy. "Can't you go one day without causing trouble?" "Liliana's debutante dinner is next week. If you don't show up, I'll drag you back here myself." He hung up without a second thought, completely oblivious to the desperation in my voice. Despair mingled with the searing agony that wracked my body as the flames danced higher, and I couldn't hold on any longer. As I closed my eyes, tears still trickled from their corners. You won't have to drag me back, my brother. I'm never coming back.

On the way to my wedding, our car was ambushed. The guards rushed me and Camilla to our family's private clinic. I was bleeding heavily. Blood completely soaked my bridal gown. My mother Alessia holds absolute power over the family. She took one cold look at me. Then she turned around and called in the top trauma team. She made them examine Camilla over and over, all for a minor scrape on Camilla's forearm from a stray bullet. "Camilla's wound is in plain sight," Alessia snapped. "If this leaves an ugly scar, how will she ever stand among high society?" I begged her to stay. She just brushed me off without a second thought. "You are my flesh and blood. You should be tougher than this. If I save you first, the men will think I am playing favorites with family." "Once I take care of Camilla, I will see to you." She walked away without looking back once. I could feel my life slipping away from me. Weakly, I grabbed Dominic. He had just stripped off his leather gloves. "Dominic, save me... the broken steel beam from the door stabbed right into my chest..." Before I could finish, he shoved my bloody fingers away with pure disgust in his eyes. "You were curled up in the reinforced armored back seat. Camilla was in the front passenger seat with zero cover. How could you be hurt worse than her?" "Gianna, drop the sick jealousy. Do you have to fight Camilla for attention every damn time?" He turned and walked straight into the sterile trauma room. He forgot. When the gunfire erupted, he was the one who yanked the steering wheel to shield Camilla next to him. He swung the car around. He made the back seat take the full hit from the truck. I took every ounce of the deadly impact meant for her. Alessia even cut off the ER doctor during his critical report. She yelled in his face. She accused him of acting along with me to beg for attention. Then she ordered everyone to treat only Camilla's "severe trauma." My vision began to darken. The twisted steel beam bit deep into my ribs.

In the seventh year of holding down the Chicago arms trade for Matteo, he finally came back from the Mediterranean. The night the Five Families threw him his coronation ball, I put on my custom gown. I was ready to see the man I had waited seven years for. Right before my entrance, my cousin Vivienne barged into the dressing room. She did our books, and she snatched the head-table nameplate off my table. She looked at me with cold pity. "Camilla, don't embarrass yourself. The seat for the Don's wife was never meant for you." She slammed a yellowed betting slip from a Vegas underground bookmaker onto the table. The wager was a hundred grand. The name on the ticket was Matteo. The betting line had just one sentence: Let's see how many years the ruined Bellini princess will stay faithful to my old love letters. Vivienne told me the truth. He kept a stripper overseas years ago. His bastard daughter was almost five now. The Commission knew. His capos looked the other way. Even my own mother, living on his handouts, helped him keep it completely quiet. For seven years, he sent handwritten letters sealed with wax. Every single one went on and on about the Sicilian rain. He wrote about how much he missed me. He told me to keep the house safe. Just for those sweet words, I took bullets for him. I stayed by the bedside of the dying old Don until his last breath. I survived firefight after firefight. The entire underworld knew about this bet. I was the only fool in the dark. My eyes burned, and I laughed. Fine. I would walk right out of his empire, in front of every boss in America.

My little sister had always been too frail to run and play, so I wasn’t allowed to, either. My parents insisted I sit quietly beside her and learn to be a lady. “Be more like Bianca,” Mom would say. “You’re a don’s daughter. Act like one.” But when I wore the same color as her, Dad would tell me to change. “Must you compete with your sister for attention?” Once, I baked my brother his favorite almond cookies. He pushed the tray aside. “Bianca makes these for me. Stop copying her just to get my attention.” Yesterday, he snapped at her for interrupting a meeting. She cut her wrist with a kitchen knife. They rushed her to the hospital. My brother pulled the guards from my studio to protect her at the hospital, leaving me there alone. Men from a rival family broke into my unguarded studio. They took me captive, stabbed me in the stomach, and dragged me down to the basement. I called my brother with trembling hands. “They broke into the studio. I’ve been stabbed… Please, help me.” “Stop lying.” He sounded exhausted with me. “Bianca had a scare yesterday, and now you’re telling me you’re dying? You just can’t stand her getting all the attention.” Then he hung up. The concrete was cold beneath me. My hand went slack. The stairs blurred, then disappeared. I hadn’t lied. All my life, they had treated my pain as another attempt to copy my sister and steal their attention. This time, I died. Days later, when the police called them to identify my body, they were frantic with regret.

They say that I have gone mad, that I put on "an act of life or death" on the day of my younger sister's coming-of-age ceremony. They also claim that I lied to my husband to gain sympathy. However, they don't know that the true madman is the person whom they have misplaced their trust in. I am Winifred Gardner, the eldest daughter of the Gardners, and I am also secretly married to Zachary Hood, a mafia boss. He never announced our marriage within the last three years because I'm not yet "qualified" to be the wife of a mafia boss. My younger sister, Stella Gardner, acknowledges me as her elder sister while mixing muscle relaxants into my medications to render me weak, dull, and unable to fire a gun. As a result, I am once again mocked as someone useless. She steals my place, my parents' love, and my husband's trust while I'm labeled as mentally unstable and told that I pretend for the sake of sympathy. The moment I sign the organ donation consent form, I smile. This is the only document I can sign on my own initiative. But they're unaware that I've already recorded the truth beforehand. After I die, everyone will know who it was that poisoned me. When that time comes, they will cry and be filled with regret. But I will no longer forgive them.

I'm married to Marcello Marchetti, the Don of the Marchetti family in Newstone. He has an adopted younger sister, Letizia Marchetti, who's supposedly a genius hacker. While she's not related to him by blood, he has raised her since she was a child. One spends all her time wreaking havoc, while the other dutifully cleans up all of her messes for her. Everyone in Newstone knows just how much Marcello dotes on that sister of his. Then, she hacks into my car remotely and messes with the brakes. The car crashes into the road divider at a speed of 120 miles an hour. It flips over three times, and I get caught under the wrecked metal, bleeding profusely. By the time the ambulance arrives, I've gone into shock three times. The blinding lights in the emergency room look like they're mocking me. Marcello stands beside the nurse, signing the consent form as he sighs. "Don't be mad at Letizia. She just thought there was something wrong with the braking system for that car, so she decided to run some tests. She had no idea you'd be using it today." Just then, his phone rings. He takes the call, and after just three seconds, his expression changes. "What did you say, Letizia? Someone spiked your drink at the bar?" He throws the pen down and heads toward the door at once, leaving in such a hurry that he doesn't realize he has selected the wrong blood type on the transfusion consent form. When I see the bag of blood the nurse brings me, my lips twitch. I suddenly lose all desire to stay alive. "Go ahead with the transfusion."