Plot Twists Short Stories & Mafia Countdown Novels

On my twentieth birthday, my father presented me with courtship gifts from the heirs of allied families. I had grown up with these men, and he told me to choose one to marry. I calmly shook my head and rejected them all. In my previous life, I chose Gabriel, the man I loved the most. Shortly after our wedding, I became pregnant with his child. But from then on, Gabriel became a completely different person. Whenever I handled family business, he publicly dismissed my decisions. Whenever I secured control of crucial West Coast ports, he outright overturned my agreements. Whenever I wanted to promote loyal members, he accused me of being too soft and a poor judge of character. Gradually, everyone began to see me as just a fragile trophy wife who depended on a man. Until one day, I walked in on him drinking and laughing with a few mafia heirs in an exclusive club. "Gabriel took the biggest hit for us. He pretended to like Kiara all these years and had to humor her every day." "It was worth it. Once she got pregnant, she had no energy left to run the family." "Once her sister Mila wins over the capos, the entire family will belong to her." Fueled by despair and anger, I went into premature labor and bled to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of my engagement. My father placed those gifts representing power and marriage in front of me once again. "Have you made up your mind? Which one will you choose?" I looked at the diamond necklaces, custom gown catalogs, and limited-edition perfumes in the boxes, and smiled softly. "None of them." "I heard our business on the West Coast took a hit. I want to go there, expand our territory, and put our family back on top." This time, I will personally take back everything that belongs to me. I just did not expect that Gabriel had returned to the past too.

Seven days after my twin sister Bianca suffered cardiac arrest and slipped into a coma, my fiancé Matteo De Luca sat beside her ICU bed, holding her cool hand through the night. “So you were telling the truth.” “If I don’t marry you, you really will die.” “Bianca, wake up, and I’ll marry you immediately.” After his promise, her pulse quickened on the monitor, and Bianca opened her eyes. Everyone called it a miracle. Only then did I learn that Bianca was a Contract Holder, and the man she had been assigned to win was Matteo—the man I had loved for five years and was about to marry. His promise had only stabilized her. According to Bianca, the contract would not be complete until the marriage became legal. That same night, our two mafia families rewrote the wedding plans. The De Luca chapel remained booked. The reception, guest list, and priest stayed the same. My mother placed the De Luca heirloom veil that had been fitted for me on Bianca’s head, my father ordered the lawyers to replace my name on the marriage documents, and Matteo slid my engagement ring onto her finger. They were relieved that Bianca had survived and assumed I could wait. Standing outside her room, I watched Matteo kiss her hand as the system spoke inside my mind. 【Target individual is preparing to marry another Contract Holder.】 【Original task entering failure countdown.】 They did not know I was a Contract Holder too. Bianca and I had received the same task, with the same man as our target. She was awake. Now I was the one marked for erasure.

I have been with Leone Donato, the don to a Mafia family, for four years. During those four years, he lets me live in the family estate but rarely tells me anything about the family's affairs. I fool myself into believing it's simply his cold, guarded nature. As the don to a Mafia family, he has to be cautious. Many of his secrets aren't ones he can easily share with others. But then, on the very day we are supposed to apply for a marriage license, I receive a screenshot of a private Mafia family group chat. "Ladies, I hear Leone's childhood sweetheart, Camilla Conti, is back in the country. Do you think Leone will still apply for a marriage license with Isola Munari tomorrow?" "Hard to say. After all, the family trust reserves 15% of the family business's profits for Camilla. All Isola gets is the family agreeing to accept her as the Donna and let her attend family meetings." Someone asks, "Then why exactly does Leone want to marry Isola?" Someone replies in the screenshot, "Because she's obedient, I guess. After all, for Leone's sake, she turns down an offer from Bellamare's top research institute. She even drives herself to a private clinic while suffering from a high fever. "Leone's exact words are, 'Isola can't live without me, and she doesn't care about any of that anyway.'" Obedient… So, in the eyes of the family, I am nothing more than an obedient lover. As I stare at those words, I slip off my diamond ring and place it on the partially signed prenuptial agreement. Then, I open my email and type, "Professore Ferrante, I've changed my mind. If the position at the research institute is still available, I'll join it this time."

I grew up alongside the Don of the Vitale family. I took a bullet for him and lost the son I was carrying. I helped move the family’s operations from Sicily to Milan and built the Vitale name into one no one dared look down on. The day Matteo took over as Don, he kissed me in front of everyone and declared that I would be his one and only Donna for the rest of his life. For six years, there had never been another woman by his side. Everyone said Matteo loved me more than anything. Every summer, he returned to Sicily for a family gathering. I asked to go with him three times, and each time something happened that kept me in Milan. This year, on the eve of his birthday, I secretly flew to Sicily alone. I wanted to surprise him. In the familiar courtyard of the old estate, Matteo was sitting beneath an orange tree with a little boy in his arms. The boy called him “Papà.” A woman in a long dress walked toward them carrying a freshly baked tart. “You come back every year for your birthday just to be with us. Aren’t you afraid she’ll find out?” Matteo smiled at her. “No. The family needs her.” “She’s the Donna of the Vitale family. She knows she has to put the family first. You’re the one waiting for me at home.” Standing outside the courtyard gate, I suddenly understood. Matteo had left me to run the family. He had given her a home with him. And I no longer wanted to put his family first. So I booked a one-way ticket to Albania for seven days later.

When Matteo Morandi divided up the territories, he let my cousin, Chloe Serra, choose first. As always. One was the deep-water port, a gold mine and our safest territory. The other was a stretch of abandoned, crumbling docks in the slums, where rival crews often traded gunfire. For the first time, I stepped forward before Chloe could choose. I pointed to the deep-water port on the map. "I want this one." Matteo rested a warm hand on my shoulder. His voice was gentle, but his words were cruel. "Chloe can't handle the slums. She needs to be in the safest place we've got. "Celia, the slums are more your speed." I was so angry I laughed out loud, but I didn't argue. Instead, my clenched fists slowly loosened. My uncle, Enzo Serra, liked to say Chloe was the Serra family's precious white dove, while I was the vicious dog born to fight in the mud. In his eyes, it was the perfect arrangement. The marriage alliance worked the same way. Matteo needed a respectable woman at his side to clean up his brutal reputation, so Chloe was the obvious choice. But Chloe cried and refused. She dreamed of an artist and a life in the sunshine. She would never marry a Sicilian butcher. So Uncle Enzo picked me. I'd taken a bullet for Matteo and known him for 12 years, yet I was still only ever his second choice. "Then give it all to Chloe. I'm done."

At the candlelit dinner for our tenth anniversary, my husband, Rian Ruthven, ditched me after getting a call from Chloe, a rookie accountant. He left me with a single sentence: "Finish your food and head home." No hesitation, no concern. Strictly business, as if I were just his subordinate, not the wife who had loved him for ten years. A few hours later, I found out he left simply because Chloe's kid had a fever. She had no friends and could only call her boss, Rian. Rian’s explanation to me was: "I just felt bad for her. It's not easy raising a kid alone." I just found it absurd. Since when did the famously ruthless Godfather of the Ruthven family have such a bleeding heart? It suddenly hit me that in the ten years I'd been with Rian, I was his wife in the shadows; to the rest of the world, I was just his CFO. When I ran a 104-degree fever and asked for time off, all I got was a cold text: "Recover quickly. The business needs you." A wave of exhaustion washed over me. I quietly drafted my resignation and divorce papers.

When the marriage contract was placed in front of me, I only took a moment to read the terms, but Lucien Moretti urged me three times to sign. He was in a hurry, after all. His precious savior, Isabella, was waiting for him to take her to her favorite opera. So I picked up the pen, but I did not sign my name. I copied Isabella’s handwriting and wrote hers instead. In my last life, I had signed that contract with a heart full of hope. I thought becoming Lucien’s wife meant I would finally stand beside him as the Donna of the Moretti family. Instead, he kept me hidden after the wedding. At every public event, Isabella was the woman on his arm. Every matter that should have required the Donna’s approval went through her first. I told myself I was not strong enough yet. I swallowed every insult and was forced to give up everything that should have been mine. Until the night gunmen broke into the Moretti estate, and Lucien chose her again. He carried Isabella out in his arms while I bled out behind him. Then I opened my eyes and found myself back before the wedding contract was sealed. This time, I gave Isabella the Donna’s necklace. I gave her the wedding dress. I even signed her name on the contract meant for me. I gave up my name, and I gave him up with it.

After my fiancé Aiden Reynolds inherited his deceased twin brother's position as Don, he proposed a "split arrangement" to me. His time would be divided in half—Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays belonged to me; Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays he'd spend pretending to be his brother, keeping my sister-in-law Juniper company. The goal? To make sure Juniper safely delivered the Reynolds Family's first heir. So during that time, no matter how passionately Aiden and I tangled in bed, the moment the clock struck midnight, he'd pull away without a second's hesitation. Even when my fever spiked to 104 degrees, if it fell on a Tuesday, Thursday, or Saturday, Aiden would only say flatly: "It's Juniper's day. Call a doctor. Don't call me." When I was kidnapped by our enemies and dialed his number with trembling hands— All I got was his cold voice, "Stop being dramatic, be good. I promise you, once Juniper has the baby safely, I'll tell her the truth. After that, I'll throw you the grandest wedding and announce you as my one and only Donna." The line went dead. In that moment, something inside me died for good. What Aiden never knew was that I never gave a damn about being Donna. I was the only daughter of the Richardson Family's Don, the biggest Mafia family in Sicily. All I ever wanted was a man who loved me with his whole heart.

In the Valenti Family, you're born with a chip. It's fused into the bio-watch on your wrist, its digital face counting down every second you have left to live. Everyone could see the numbers ticking down on my twin sister's watch. And on mine. They all knew she would die on our 18th birthday. So Vivian became the untouchable princess of our brutal world. Every diamond-stitched gown was hers. The rarest jewels were hers. Even our father's last shred of humanity was hers. That single sliver of warmth he showed only after his gun was holstered. I used to pity her. Her time was running out. But God, I envied her. She had everything I never did: our parents' love. Then, the night of her 18th birthday party. My parents worried I'd make a scene. That I'd piss off the Don of an allied Family. So they locked me in the cellar. Damp. Cold. While a deadly fever burned through me. I pounded on the heavy oak door, my voice cracking. "Mamma, please! Let me out! I'm burning up. My head is splitting open…" Outside, my mother's voice was a steel trap. "Enough, Sienna! Today is your sister’s 18th birthday. Her last day alive! Stop the theatrics! Can't you suffer in silence for the Family's honor?" "But I'm really sick..." Her footsteps clicked away, fading into nothing. Then the darkness swallowed me whole. And on my wrist, the bio-watch was flashing a critical alert. CRITICAL ALERT: Vital signs mismatch. Paired chip data incompatible. Please verify user.

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 childhood friend promised to marry me once we came of age — but at my wedding ceremony, he gave my wedding ring to my stepsister, Summer Hugh. At the time, it was Victor Lowell, the fearsome mafia heir, who saved me by publicly announcing he had loved me for years. In the five years we had been married, he would fulfill every wish I had, even those I mentioned offhand. I truly believed I was the center of his world. All that changed when I stumbled across a top-secret folder as I was cleaning his bookshelf. The very first page was a file on Summer, with three red words printed in bold, “Top protection priority.” It was followed by a mission report I knew too well. On the night of the mission, there had been an attempt on my life. My blood had almost run dry before I was saved. When I woke up at the hospital, I found out that I had lost a baby I did not know I had been carrying. I wept bitterly in Victor’s arms, but I did not tell him about the baby. I did not want him to worry about me more. Now, I finally found out — Summer had been attacked that night as well, and Victor’s orders had been: “Save Summer first.” My tears soaked into the paper, smudging his handwriting. “Alright,” I said softly but firmly into the silence. “If my marriage had been a lie all along, I’ll disappear from your life. Forever.”