Mafia Cheating 단편 소설 & 소설

I spent five years helping my boyfriend Marco rise to the position of Don. I nearly died countless times, but I didn't care; I loved him. He used to look at me tenderly and promised to propose to me publicly at his Don succession ceremony. But on that very day, he held the hand of another Mafia Principessa Sophia Romano and announced their engagement. To completely get rid of me, Sophia pulled a stack of photos from her bag and slammed them into my face. "See for yourself! She's been sleeping around to get intel!" In the picture, I was leaning into a man's arms. I tried to explain, but Marco interrupted me. "I always knew you were lowborn, but I didn't realize you were this cheap." "Get out!" Marco pointed at the door. "Elena, you are exiled from the family. Never let me see you again." I finally saw this man for who he truly was. He was completely subservient to me when he needed my help to seize territory, but after becoming the Godfather, he needed a more distinguished Donna, and therefore no longer needed me. I sneered; they had no idea that the man in the picture was my brother, the Don of the most powerful Corleone family. Sophia’s family was nothing compared to the Corleone family. I stopped arguing and simply turned and left. But when my true identity was finally exposed, he crawled back to me, weeping and begging for my forgiveness.

The day before my wedding, I was insulted by two men. In my defense, I ended up killing one and injuring the other. My fiancé at the time, Alexander, who was supposed to protect me, abandoned me during the trial. I was sentenced to two years in jail. When I was finally released two years later, I discovered that my ex-fiancé had already married my best friend, Isabella. And Isabella? She didn’t just ‘steal’ my fiancé—she took the doctor position that was supposed to be mine too. I had nowhere to go, and in my most desperate moment, Eric Graves appeared at my door. As the most powerful mafia leader in NYC, Eric used his influence to ensure no one would speak ill of my past. He also proposed to me, confessing that he'd always had feelings for me and wanted to marry me. I believed he was my knight in shining armor, my true love. The first four years of our marriage were perfect—at least, that’s what I thought, until the day I overheard a conversation between my husband, Eric, and his right-hand man, Adam. “Boss, you were so clever to let those scums harass Evelyn. If it weren't for that, Miss Isabella would never have had a chance with Alexander.” Eric’s teasing voice followed, “I just wanted to scare her for a bit. Never thought she’d kill one of them and end up behind bars.” Adam sounded confused. “But Miss Isabella is already married now. Why would you still keep that whore around after she got out of prison?” “Because,” Eric paused, “I have to make sure she doesn’t run back to Alexander or disturb Isabella.” The laughter that followed shattered my heart. All those memories of Eric saving me from humiliation? They were all a lie. He was the one who made my life fall apart, just to make sure Isabella could live happily ever after. Wiping away the lingering tears, I dialed Eric’s biggest rival in NYC, Caleb Nightshade. "Do you still want to wipe Eric out of New York?”

I married Rafe Maretti—the man who owned the Maretti Casino empire. Sophisticated, ruthless, but sinfully charming. By year three of our marriage, I introduced my little sister to his nephew, Adam Moretti—twenty-five, all sharp smiles and sharper ambition. He ran the dirtier side of the family’s business—arms, drugs, the kind of trade that dripped blood and money in equal parts. I married the powerful, irresistible uncle. She married the young, dangerous nephew. It was supposed to be our fairytale. Then one day, I got kidnapped in Rafe’s casino. Snatched by a rival mafia family desperate to force Rafe to sign over one of his biggest, most profitable casinos. Except Rafe didn’t answer the phone or even notice I was gone. The kidnappers grew impatient. First, it was slaps. Then punches. Then they shattered my leg and buried a knife in my stomach. Still no word from my husband. Until finally, after what felt like a hundred unanswered calls, a single message came through. "I’m with Bianca. She’s having a stomach. Stop calling." Once the kidnappers realized I had no value, they dumped me in a rotting warehouse like discarded luggage. It was Isla, my sister, who found me. She got me out. And then the brakes failed. The car spun out. Isla went unconscious beside me. I tried calling Adam. Isla’s husband. But as soon the call went through, all I could hear was. “Leave me along. Isla, I am in the middle of something here.” When I clearly heard a woman’s voice in the back. If not for a passing stranger, Isla and me wouldn’t have made it to the hospital, let along have survived. So when I opened my eyes again, the first thing I thought was: I’m divorcing that sorry bastard. The Maretti can go to hell.

At our engagement party, my fiancé, James Pierce, and my best friend, Rachel Bellini, slipped into Italian again. Years ago, the two of them had gone off to college in Milan together, leaving me to study alone in America. Right before our engagement speeches, James leaned close to Rachel's ear and murmured in low, husky Italian, "If you were the one standing here beside me today, I'd be so much happier." I turned to stare at him in disbelief, every ounce of joy draining out of me in an instant. But James just smiled at me, all innocence, and switched to English. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Nerves getting to you?" I had lost count of how many times James and Rachel had talked in Italian right in front of my face. At dinner, they critiqued the dishes in Italian. At the movies, they joked about the plot in Italian. Over afternoon tea, they traded old stories and private jokes in Italian, things only the two of them understood. I had protested. We had even fought about it. But James would only say impatiently, "Isabella, this is how we lived for four years of college. Can you stop making a scene over nothing? If you can't understand Italian, go learn it yourself!" Rachel glanced at me, smothered a laugh, and went on in Italian, "Look at that shocked little face. She clearly has no idea how hard you went at it with me the night before your engagement party." James answered with utter contempt and absolute certainty. "So what if she found out? You think she could survive without me?" The note card with my speech slipped from my fingers and landed without a sound, but the weight of it hit me like a blow to the chest. They had no idea. My father is Italian. I was born in Italy. After my parents divorced, I moved to America with my mother, Eleanor Bennett, when I was ten. I understood every word they said in Italian.

On the day there was an assassination attempt on the Don, my husband, the head of security for the Russo family, was busy coaxing his mistress, who had lost her temper and left. I did not call him for help but used my body as a shield to protect the Don while I was eight months pregnant. In my past life, my husband left his mistress behind and came back with his team of bodyguards to save the Don after I called him for help on the phone. My husband ended up saving the Don and was rewarded by the family with a promotion, but his mistress was killed in the process. Although my husband said nothing about it, he threw me into the shark tank on the day I was in labor. I was covered in blood when I looked at him for an answer. However, all he did was stare coldly at me. "Why did you have to get me to save the Don when he had so many other bodyguards to protect him? You forced me to come back because you're a materialistic woman who only wants fame and fortune! If it weren't for your phone call, Aurora wouldn't have died! You must pay for everything she suffered!" I ended up being torn apart by sharks, and even the baby inside my belly was not spared. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day of the assassination attempt on the Don.

Everyone in the Falcone family believed that Enzo, their Don, treated me exceptionally well. Whether it was money, jewelry, or anything else I wanted, Enzo was never stingy with me. But only I knew that as long as Emily was around, I would never be his first choice. Whenever he failed to be there for me, he would make it up with money, while giving his time and attention to Emily instead. Three days before our wedding, he forgot that he was supposed to accompany me to my bridal fitting because he was too busy rushing off to be with Emily. We had met in Sardinia, and he had once promised to give me the grandest wedding there. Yet just to comfort Emily, he changed the wedding venue without hesitation. To keep Emily safe, he even brought her into our home, despite the fact that I was about to become his bride. That was when I knew that Enzo and I were truly over. This time, I didn't argue with him again. I simply canceled my own wedding plans and booked a flight out of the country. Because when that wedding took place, I would not be the bride.

When my mother went into kidney failure and needed a transplant, it was Pauline Maynard—on the brink of death herself—who gave my mom a second chance at life. Just before Pauline passed, she gripped my hand tightly and whispered her final words. "Summer, Ricky is my only son. He's rebellious… and fragile. Please, take care of him. Just three years, please?" I gave her my word. Then I moved into their home and gave Ricky everything he needed—love, comfort, a sense of safety. For three years, I stayed true to that promise. By the third year, Ricky had transformed. No longer the wayward boy he once was, he rose to become the Mafia Don Ricky Lenza. And I was carrying his child. As I busied myself with wedding plans, I overheard something I was never meant to hear—his voice, low and mocking, as he wrapped another woman in his arms. "Summer? She's just pretending to love me for the sake of my mother's inheritance and a stupid deal. A gold digger like her dreams of marrying me? What a joke." A sharp pain pierced my chest, like thorns stabbing deep beneath the skin. On the way to a prenatal checkup, we were hit in a crash. My baby didn't make it. And my mother, sitting in the passenger seat, shielded me with her life. When I woke up, I stared blankly at the date on my phone. Three days left. That would've marked the end of the three-year promise. I realized then—I'd paid my debt to Pauline in full. It was time for me to go.

"Boss... it's so hard, so deep... fill me up, please?" The moans belonged to my former best friend, Tessa. But the man thrusting into her like a wild animal, slapping her ass and groaning about how good she felt, was my husband. Don Killian. The man who made sure all of Chicago knew he loved me. He even implanted a micro-GPS chip in the back of my neck just to protect me. He always knew Tessa wanted him. But he rejected her countless times. He once said publicly that if she wasn't my best friend, he would've dumped a bitch like her in the river. But three months ago, she finally crawled into his bed. And everything changed. Killian got addicted to her body. Three months. Sixty-six times. And they thought I didn't know. I stared at the calendar. Seven days until our wedding anniversary. I made a call and booked two surgeries. One to dig out the GPS chip. The other to give me a brand-new face. Killian, since you betrayed me... In seven days, I'll give you one last anniversary gift. And then I'll disappear forever.

Four years ago, I took three bullets for my husband, Marcus DeLuca, heir to New York's most powerful mafia family. It cost me three years in a rival family's flooded cell. They interrogated me, drugged me with hallucinogens, and starved me, trying to make me reveal the DeLuca family's accounts, warehouses, and shipping routes. Three years later, I finally escaped. At the DeLuca Foundation's charity gala, everyone was talking about Rachel Bellini. The same woman I'd slapped in public years ago after she drunkenly draped herself over my husband's shoulder. "God only knows how much Marcus has spent on Rachel over the years. Now she's even got a Golden Globe nomination." "After Sarah disappeared, she moved into the DeLuca estate." "That's not all she got. She gave Marcus two kids." "But Sarah is Marcus's wife. The DeLuca family threw the biggest wedding this city had ever seen." "Oh, come on. She was abused for three years. She can't have kids anymore. Look at her." For more than 1,000 days and nights in that flooded cell, I'd believed he was tearing the city apart to find me. It turned out he'd had other things to do. Pathetic. In the middle of the ballroom, Marcus and Rachel gazed into each other's eyes. Someone shouted, "Make it official, Marcus!" Just then, the spotlight swept across me. Everyone turned to look at me, waiting for me to slap her a second time. I just raised my champagne glass and smiled. "Don't stop on my account." Then I turned and walked out of the ballroom before they could see my red, swollen eyes. I called Lily. "Last time, you said your jewelry studio in Sydney still needs a partner. I've thought it over. I'm in."

I was supposed to marry Marco DeLuca, the man of my dreams, in just three days. He was the mafia don of the South—dangerous, ruthless, the kind of man everyone warned you about. And I came from the Moretti family, just as powerful, a dominant force in the North. But just when I thought I had it all, fate had other plans. What was supposed to be a simple drug deal negotiation—one Marco had asked me to cover—quickly spiraled into a gunfight. In the chaos, a bullet tore through my chest. Marco made sure everyone in that room paid for my accident, but no matter what he did, it didn’t change the fact that I was lying here, wondering if my life would ever be the same. And it only got worse. In the haze between consciousness and dreams, I overheard Marco speaking with his family doctor. “After removing the bullet from Miss Moretti’s chest, we found fragments near her heart,” Dr. Levois said. “She may need another surgery.” “There’s no need for another surgery. As long as she can breathe, I’ll take care of her for the rest of her life. But if you treat her now, she’ll wake up and ruin everything I’ve planned.” Marco’s words hit me hard. “And I promised Camilla I would bring our daughter, Violetta, into the family,” he continued. “It’s better this way. Gianna won’t be a threat to her then.” So the wedding I’d longed for, the love I once believed in, was nothing but a cruel illusion. What Marco wanted, what I thought was mine, had twisted into my worst nightmare. If this was what Marco truly wanted… so be it. It wasn’t like I cared anymore.

My husband, Damien Falcone, had 99 lovers. And I was the mafia princess men lined up to die for. The day we got together, everyone in our world took bets. They said we wouldn't last three months. But then , everything changed. For me, he wiped his phone clean, built a rose manor, and got down on one knee. Then, on our wedding night, he told me he wanted an open marriage. "Our bodies can play," he said. "But our loyalty? That's just for us." I agreed. Then came his 100th lover, Sophia Ricci. She betrayed our family in an arms deal. Almost got my father killed. But Damien protected her. He even moved her into our home. So, I did what any heartbroken mafia princess would do. I got drunk and woke up in another man's bed. I just didn't know that man was Damien's uncle.

My mother-in-law’s final wish was simple—she wanted one last trip to Hawaii, to bask in the warmth of the sun before her time ran out. But her son, Vincent, didn’t see it that way. He thought I was manipulating her, using her as an excuse to drag him on a vacation he didn’t want. So, out of spite, he refused to grant her dying wish. I begged him. Pleaded. Swallowed my pride and all the hurt his accusations brought. After relentless persuasion, he finally relented. I thought, at last, I could give Lucy the happiness she deserved. But on the day we were set to leave, Vincent was nowhere to be found. And that same day, Lucy suffered a heart attack. She passed away with only me by her side—never getting to feel the warmth of the sun on her skin one last time. And then I saw it. A picture. Vincent, tagged at a luxury resort with his ex. The caption from her read: Thank you for abandoning your job to take me on this trip. You’re the best. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I didn’t even confront him. I just packed my bags and left. And this time? Vincent found out about the truth and begged me to stay.

I secretly sent Lena Parker, my husband Dominic Caballero's mistress, away to Sicara. I'm defying his authority as the Don of Coastwick, New Hudson. That very night, he abducts my parents and younger brother, using their lives to force me to reveal Lena's whereabouts. Dominic pushes his phone in front of me. On the screen, I see my family tied to chairs, the timer of the bombs ticking down. 00:59:59 00:59:58 He sits across from me and taps his fingers softly against the table, like he's closing a business deal. "Alyssa, you have 59 minutes," Dominic says in a calm, almost gentle voice. "Where's Lena?" I freeze, my throat tightening as if strangled. I can't get a word out. This is the third time he's pressed me. The first time, he asked where Lena had gone, but I stayed silent. The second time, he grabbed my chin and said in a low voice, "Alyssa, don't play games." Now, for the third time, he's threatening my family's lives. "Dominic…" I call out, my voice trembling. "They're my family. They're the most important people to me." He chuckles. "Is that so? Then why didn't you think about how important Lena is to me when you sent her away?" I stare at him, feeling how utterly absurd it all is. Important? He told me before that other women were just playthings. Once he got bored, he'd dump them. He swore I was the only one he loved. But now, for Lena, he's willing to kill my family.

“I need your help to fake a private jet crash,” I said quietly. “It’s the only way I can ever leave Luca Moretti.” People said he’d given up the Mafia throne for me. They called him the man who traded power for love— the heir who walked away from blood and gold just to marry a waitress from the slums. For years, he made the world believe in us. He built empires under my name. He sent me roses every Monday. He told the press I was his salvation. But love doesn’t always mean loyalty. While I was busy believing in forever, he was building a second home behind my back— one filled with laughter, toys, and twin sons who had his eyes. The night I disappeared, his empire burned. He tore apart cities, bribed governments, and buried men alive just to find me. But by the time he did— I was already gone. And the woman he’d once died for no longer loved him enough to stay alive.

At our wedding, Don Marco DeLuca, my fiance, answers a phone call. That's when his expression changes drastically. He then looks at me, his eyes filled with pain and conflict, two of the emotions that I've never seen plaguing him before. "Lina, Fiora will be flying this afternoon. She will leave Novaris permanently. This will be our last time seeing each other. I… I need to send her off." As I rub my thumb against the diamond ring which has just gotten slotted onto my ring finger, I just gaze at Marco quietly. "Are you sure you want to go see her off?" Marco's voice is trembling at this rate. He dares not even look me in the eye. "Lina, I swear that you'll be the only woman for me from now on. We'll get married, and we'll have children together. Life will be perfect for us." After that, he turns on his heel and walks away without looking back. He doesn't see the way I've crumpled onto the floor, where a puddle of blood has formed beneath me. My papa kisses me on the forehead. "My darling principessa, are you sure you want to break up with Marco?" I close my eyes and nod in response. I don't want Marco nor this farce of a marriage contract anymore.

My sister Sienna was brutally abused by her mob husband, so my boyfriend Chase and I ripped her out of that hell. Sienna's therapist warned us that she shouldn't be left alone. From that day on, Sienna lived under our protection. I took care of her, catering to her every need. But Chase never stopped complaining that I'd forgotten I even had a boyfriend. Three months later, returning early from an overseas contract, they picked me up at the airport. I found a lipstick in Chase's car that wasn't mine. He dodged my eyes and refused to confess. I called off the relationship on the spot and turned to my sister. "Get out of the car, Sienna. We're leaving." But Sienna ignored my hand, walked right past me, and stood directly by Chase's side. Turns out my boyfriend's secrect girl was my dear sister. Without any hesitation, I accepted the invitation from the Romano Family. If that’s their choice, I’m boarding a plane to Sicily in seven days.

While my husband, Don Raffaele Borgia, is away on a business trip, I drive out to a warehouse on the outskirts of the city to take care of some business. I log into the car's navigation system and enter my destination, but the familiar mechanical voice is nowhere to be heard. Instead, a sweet, soft female voice comes through. "Amore mio, Alice will be your navigator today. Hearing my voice will be just like having me right by your side. You'll reach your destination in ten minutes." The car falls silent. I freeze in the driver's seat. Who the hell is Alice? I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and immediately call Raffaele. "When did you change the voice on your car's navigation system to some woman named Alice?" There's a noticeable pause in his breathing on the other end. Then he chuckles. "Oh, Alice Conti, my secretary. She borrowed my car to run an errand a while back. She probably changed it herself. What's wrong? Is the voice bothering you?" He sounds a little too casual. "I'll delete the voice pack when I get back. Don't overthink it. Alice and I are strictly business." Without asking more questions, I hang up and open the navigation history, only to notice the same address appears more than ten times. I start the car and follow the directions. Eventually, I pull up outside a familiar villa. My heart sinks when I look up and recognize the place.

The man I'd been with for three years, my fiancé, had promised to leave everything behind in the States and move to Europe to join my family. For our future together, I had quietly arranged a transfer of massive assets in his name. The night I was finally ready to tell him everything, I came back to our safehouse and heard voices I wasn't supposed to hear. "Kane, are you seriously giving up your entire place in the mafia for some ordinary girl?" That was Alicia Holt, the daughter of a small-time mob boss who scraped by at the edges of New York. Kane let out a cold laugh, his voice dripping with contempt and calculation. "Give it all up? For that useless woman? Alicia, you're underestimating me. I'm only playing along to get her to sign over that Manhattan townhouse and her offshore funds into my name." He knew exactly how much I'd sacrificed to be with him. He knew I'd even defied my father. And none of it meant a damn thing to him. He just found me clingy, embarrassing, like a dog he couldn't shake. "That idiot actually thinks she's something. If it weren't for her money, I wouldn't even waste a glance on her." Kane pulled Alicia closer, his voice thick with arrogant contempt. "Once I've drained every last asset, I'm breaking off the engagement. Then it's just you and me, baby." Alicia giggled and playfully swatted at his chest. "What if she finds out?" "Finds out? She's just some sheltered rich girl with no backup and no clue." Kane scoffed like he'd just heard the funniest joke in the world. "What's she going to do?" I stood there and felt my fury turn into something ice-cold and perfectly still. Kane had no idea. For a few scraps of easy money, he'd just thrown away an entire European crime empire.

At my engagement ceremony, I wait for Elio Ricci to slip his family's ring onto my finger. It's the ring that will officially mark me as his Donna. Instead, in front of everyone, he takes his widowed sister-in-law Marianne Fabbri's hand and places the ring on hers. I stand there frozen. Elio barely reacts. "My brother is dead, but Marianne still needs to give the family an heir who carries our blood. Stella, just be patient a little longer. Once the baby is born, I'll make you my Donna." Everyone expects me to smile and accept it. After all, I've spent five years at Elio's side. I've swallowed every slight and endured every test just to finally earn his family's approval. What no one expects is for me to turn around, call my father, and accept the marriage alliance my family arranged for me years ago. I reclaim my family name that very night. Then I leave the city without looking back and marry the head of the most powerful crime family in North Amrea. Four years later, I return. My husband, Renato Costa, tells me he's sending someone to meet me at the harbor. I never expect that someone to be Elio. The moment he sees me, his gaze drops to the ruby ring on my finger. "Four years, and you're still obsessed with climbing your way into a better family." Elio lets out a mocking laugh. "The head of the Costa family paid five million dollars for that ring at an auction. And you actually went out and bought yourself a fake? You really haven't changed." He gestures toward the car waiting by the curb. "You've had four years to throw your little tantrum. I'd say that's long enough. Your timing is good, though. Marianne and I have a son now, and he could use a nanny." I casually sweep my curls back over my shoulder, letting my fingertips brush across the ruby. There's no reason to tell him the truth. To Renato, this ring isn't some priceless treasure. It's just another little trinket my husband buys on a whim because he thinks it'll make me smile.

I married Don Alessandro in secret. The Five Families of Chicago had ruled for generations. And I had married into the most powerful of them. For four years, Alessandro made me promises. One hundred and twelve times. And one hundred and twelve times, he left me standing alone. The first time, his ex‑girlfriend’s father had a heart attack. Alessandro canceled the wedding and stayed with her for three full weeks. The second time, she crashed her Maserati into a fountain in Monaco. Drunk. He flew there overnight and paid off the police chief personally. Every time, right before our wedding, she manufactured another crisis. I begged. I screamed. I put a knife to my own wrist. Alessandro just laughed, pulled the blade from my hand, and fucked me against the nearest wall. “She’s my ex‑girlfriend. You’re my wife. You don't need to be jealous of her.” After the one hundred and twelfth time, I stopped feeling anything. I pushed a piece of agreement in front of him.“Our marriage. Our alliance. Consider it terminated.”