Contos sobre Feel-Good Story e Romances com Mafia e Face Slapping

Everyone says Matteo only married me out of debt. My father took a bullet for him. Four years into our marriage, my separation anxiety hit an all-time high. As the Don, he never snapped. He canceled big meetings. He stayed every single time panic set in. At my worst, I held onto his arm all night. Even when it went numb, he never pulled back. He put up with it all. The late-night location checks. Going through his phone. He stayed until I thought we were solid. I thought it was love. Then the floating words started appearing. His soft chuckle and sweet "You're impossible" actually came with this: [When is this nightmare over?] His gentle "My girl is the prettiest" really meant: [God, she's so full of herself.] That was my wake-up call. His patience was never love. It was just a cold obligation. If I'm just a burden he tolerates, I'm out.

Ethan Carter had always believed I was the one woman who could never leave him. That was why, three years ago, even after learning I was pregnant, he agreed to his childhood sweetheart Vanessa’s twisted test and divorced me. “Three years from now, Clara will come back with my child.” He never called. Never once asked if I was safe or how I was surviving. He was certain I would stay exactly where he left me, waiting for him. Three years later, Ethan returned with a bouquet of roses and called me his wife as if nothing had changed. He had no idea that I had been in a car accident the day our divorce was finalized—and that our unborn child had died. He did not know that I had already married another man and now had a two-year-old son. When Ethan offered me the roses, I calmly stepped back. “Sorry. My husband doesn’t like me accepting flowers from other men.” Ethan only smiled, convinced I was still angry and too stubborn to admit I wanted him back. He had no idea that my husband was Don Dante Moretti—the head of New York’s most feared Mafia family.

When my husband, Angelo, slept with my best friend for the ninety-ninth time, he told the entire Family I was insane. He bought off the Family enforcers and the doctor. Everyone believed I had lost my mind, that I was unfit to be Capo. He let my so-called best friend, Bianca, humiliate me in every way imaginable, plotting to have me locked away in an isolated psychiatric facility. When I discovered the accident that caused my miscarriage was a murder they orchestrated, and that they were now conspiring to seize the territory my father had left me, I made a call to a number that had long been gathering dust. "I'll agree to any arranged marriage. My only condition is that you find me the most ruthless cleaner in the city." "I want my husband to wish he were dead."

At eighteen, I defied my family and turned my back on an arranged marriage. I used every connection and every resource I had to install Corleone as a Mafia don. For the next ten years, I became his irreplaceable Donna. Through every vicious power struggle, we were the only people either of us could trust. I was certain there would never be betrayal between us. Until I went to the airport to pick up my stepsister, Bianca Rinaldi, who had just returned from abroad. After years apart, the moment she stepped out of the terminal, she threw herself straight into Corleone's arms. Watching them catch up like old friends, seeing that rare tenderness in Corleone's eyes, my heart sank. But when I confronted him, Corleone remained composed. "I've been working closely with overseas underground operations lately. Bianca spent years abroad and serves as the intermediary for this partnership. Our relationship is strictly business." That night, Corleone got a phone call and left me in the middle of the night, my clothes still disheveled. He didn't come home until morning. The next morning, I saw Bianca's latest social media post. Ten years, and you're still the one who drops everything and comes running the moment I call. In the photo, the hand clasping hers wore Corleone's signet ring. I pulled the divorce papers from the drawer, untouched for ten years. I slowly signed my full name on the dotted line: Donatella Valenti. Then I took out my phone and dialed the last number in my contacts. "Father, you win. I'll marry Alessandro Moretti."

At the annual mafia charity gala, my fiancé Vincent dropped three million dollars on the most coveted antique necklace in the room. Everyone looked at me with smiles and congratulations. My friend grabbed my arm, whispering, "Your patience finally paid off! All those years of kissing his feet weren't for nothing!" Then he turned around and handed the necklace straight to Bianca, the daughter of our rival family. I opened my mouth, ready to remind him that I was his fiancée. But Vincent just threw me a look of pure disgust. In front of everyone, he sneered that I was trash with zero class and couldn't handle a real crowd. Humiliated and crushed, I went onto the dark web and posted a fifty-dollar bounty for help. That was how I matched with Gabe—the feared, ruthless enforcer everyone talked about. A man infamous for his cold blood turned out to be shockingly gentle with me. He never told me I wasn't enough. Instead, he just held my grip and whispered, "Keep your hand steady, Princess." For the first time in my life, I realized I could actually be happy. So when Vincent came crawling back to fix things, he was stunned to find out the truth: this time, I was the one walking away.

Every time my driver took me back to Camorra Family, he brought his girlfriend along. Since she was going the same way, I said nothing. That was until one day when I opened the car door and found a note stuck on my usual seat in the back: "Freeloaders are not allowed in this car. " I ripped the note off and looked at my driver,David. "What is this supposed to mean?" David's girlfriend was sitting in the passenger seat, glaring at me with hostility. "Can't you read?" she snapped. "You've been shamelessly hitching rides from my boyfriend everyday. If you can't afford a car,just stay home. Son of a bitch." I stared at her in disbelief. Before I could say anything,David immediately got out of the car and hurried over to me. Lowering his voice,he explained nervously, "Princess,my girlfriend doesn't know that I'm your driver. She's just very possessive because she loves me,that's why she wrote it ." Then he added, " She feels uncomfortable sitting in the same car as you. I'll take her home first,and then I'll come back for you." With that,David got back into my Maybach and drove away. I stood there, watching my own car disappear down the road, then took out my phone and called the family soldiers " Someone has taken possession of family property without authorization. I need you to come and handle it."

Five years ago. Killian Rossi. The ruthless mafia heir. Framed for a hit. His own family wanted him dead. The whole underworld thought he was done. But I was a top trauma surgeon. I locked myself in the morgue for three days. Three days. No sleep. I dug bullets and trace evidence out of corpses. The real traitor went into the Hudson River. Killian was cleared. Since that bloody night, the mob boss worshipped me. He became the most dangerous lover. Pinning me against clinic walls. Kissing me rough. He gave me his dark empire. He gave me his wild heart. All of it. Two years later, we got married. We shut down three blocks in Manhattan. People called it a dark fairy tale. Everyone said I was lucky. A scalpel saved his life. And it made me the Mafia Queen. Easy. But it was all an illusion. And it shattered. Right outside a VIP room in his underground casino.

My family's driver, Marco, always brought his girlfriend along when he drove me. I put up with it. His dead father took a bullet for my family once. Until today. I opened the door of my custom bulletproof Cadillac. Someone wrote on the inside of the window in red lipstick: "Stay away from my man, bitch." I wiped the smudge off with a tissue. "What is this?" I asked, my voice dead. Crystal sat in the passenger seat. She glared at me like I was poison. "Can't you read?" she spat. "Stay away from my man, you parasite. Buy your own car, you broke bitch." I watched this circus. I said nothing. Marco rushed to my side. He whispered frantically: "Aurora, she doesn't know I'm just a driver. She thinks... she thinks the whole family business is mine. She loves the power. Please." Then came the ultimate betrayal. "I need to take her to Fifth Avenue first. I'll come back for you later." He drove off in my car. He left me in the dust. I stood there and scoffed. I called Cassian, my brother's top enforcer. "Someone stole my car. And my patience is gone. Find them. I want them alive."

On our seventh wedding anniversary, my husband—Don Enzo Cavina—suddenly put a motion before the family council: The Donna would be barred from taking part in family affairs. “One vote in favor.” “Two.” “Three.” The motion passed unanimously. Being forced off the council just as I completed seven years meant the family no longer had to honor its promise to grant me the twenty-percent stake that was about to vest. I had been reduced to nothing more than an appendage to the Don. My fingertips turned cold, but my gaze remained steady as it swept over every face around the long table. “Why?” Jack was the first to stand. “You’re nothing but an outsider who married into this family, yet you’ve controlled the port, the banks, and the union for seven years. Who knows how much you’ve skimmed for yourself?” James sneered. “If we let you take twenty percent, sooner or later, the Cavina family will become the Medici family.” I turned to my husband, Don Enzo, seated at the head of the table. “Is that really what you think?” Enzo came to me and pulled me into his arms. “You’ve given seven years of your life to this family. I just can’t bear to watch the council drain you any longer.” “You won’t have to sit through these pointless meetings anymore. But you will always be my wife.” Without a seat on the council, I had no say in any decision. But the Cavinas couldn’t manage their dealings with the Five Families without me. So that was it. They still expected me to bear every risk—they just didn’t want to give me the share I had earned. I smiled, slipped off my wedding ring and family badge, and slapped them both onto the long table. Three days later, Enzo came to me with every elder who had voted for the motion. Together, they knelt before me, begging the “outsider who did nothing but steal everyone else’s credit” to come back and save them.

After a campaign for the pack, I was gravely wounded, and rogues ambushed me on the way home. Dozens of rogues surrounded me, slashing wound after wound across my body. Meanwhile, my mate, the captain of the pack guard, had dropped everything to go to her first love, who was about to drink wolfsbane. In my past life, I sent her a mind-link, begging her to bring the guards and save me. She abandoned her first love, and I survived because of it. But by the time Vivian reached Gavin Cross's home, her first love had already drunk the wolfsbane and stopped breathing. Yet Vivian never blamed me, and we went on living happily together. Three years later, on my way back from my second campaign, rogues cornered me again. The one leading them was my own mate. "You lied to me that day, didn't you? You're an Alpha. There's no way you couldn't beat a band of rogues. But you were so jealous of Gavin that you forced me to your side, and I let him swallow wolfsbane and die in agony." "Today I want to see for myself whether one Alpha can really beat this many rogues." I fought for my life, but their claws were coated with wolfsbane, and in the end I died under them. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the rogues first attacked me. This time, I decided to step aside and let her go save her first love.

The enemies of my husband—the Don of the Uccello famiglia, Emanuele Uccello—have kidnapped my mother-in-law, Clarissa Fontana, and locked her in a shipping container rigged with a time bomb. Emanuele has already arranged for his men to prepare the ransom. Clarissa can be saved fairly easily, but his childhood sweetheart, Melina Costa, who came along with him, wants to use this crisis as a chance to get some hands-on experience and insists on defusing the bomb herself. Ignoring his men's warnings, Emanuele allows her to step forward and take control. After she randomly presses a series of buttons on the keypad, the countdown immediately drops to zero. The very next second, a deafening explosion erupts. Flames engulf the shipping container, and everyone inside is instantly consumed by the inferno. The first thing Emanuele does is pull Melina into his arms, shielding her from the flying debris. "It's not your fault. My enemies rigged the bomb from the start," he reassures her in a low voice. He doesn't even order his men to search the burning container. After calming Melina down, he finally remembers me, who's standing beside them. "I'm sorry, Bretta. I couldn't save your Madre." I'm dumbstruck. Mamma's currently relaxing at a private manor. The woman inside that shipping container is his Madre.

I once believed I was the most loved daughter in New York. I was the Romano family’s only heiress, my grandfather’s chosen successor, and the fiancée of Matteo Bellini. Everyone said our marriage would unite two empires and make us the most powerful couple in the city. Then my parents adopted Giulia Ricci. At a family banquet, Giulia stumbled into a towering champagne tower. She pointed at me, sobbing that I had shoved her. In a single night, the family who claimed to love me decided I was a monster. My parents condemned me. My brother disowned me. My best friend turned away. Matteo locked me in an underground wine cellar. He said I would stay until I learned to treat Giulia with respect. They knew I was claustrophobic and listened while I screamed for help. The next morning, I ended our engagement and disappeared into Paris. Three years later, I returned for my grandfather’s birthday. They expected an apology. Matteo expected his bride back. Instead, I returned with control of their European shipping routes, a daughter they knew nothing about, and a husband whose name could silence every Don in the room. As Giulia's identity gradually came to light, a conspiracy against the Romano family emerged. I had not been replaced by accident. Someone had orchestrated everything to let Giulia steal my position, my inheritance, and the port resources I controlled. They finally regretted losing me. But this time, I would never look back.

When an avalanche struck, Cristiano Corleone, the man I grew up with, held my hand tightly. But I chose to let go, giving the last seat on the helicopter to my adopted younger sister, Tania Lanza. And that was because in my previous life, after Cristiano chose to save me, Tania was swallowed by the snowstorm, forever lost in the mountains. He acted like he didn't mind marrying me and making me Donna, but then he gave me the silent treatment for 20 years. "If it weren't for you, Tania would never have died." Because of that, I ended up dying from depression. Now, given a second chance at life, I decisively chose to let them be together. Just as I was on the verge of death, Cesare Martelli, the Don of North Arocia's largest mafia family, saved me in the nick of time. I didn't think twice before accepting his proposal and bearing his heir. Three years passed by, and I accompanied Cesare to a business banquet. As he got tied up with some last-minute work and couldn't get away, the men in the region offered to pick me up at the airport. I had never expected the person who would show up would be none other than Cristiano, whom I hadn't seen in three years. The moment he saw me, his eyes lit up with shock and joy. "I knew you were still alive! It's just a shame that Tania is my wife now. But for old times' sake, I don't mind making you my mistress."

After I moved into my new apartment, my neighbor, Bianca Ferraro, started showing up at my door every evening for a free meal. I lived alone and always cooked more than I needed. For the sake of keeping the peace, I did not mind sharing. That changed one workday at 3:00 am, when someone pounded on my door and yelled, "Open up! My boyfriend's waiting at the bar downstairs. Make me a cheese platter and open a bottle of red wine. I need to bring it down." I opened the door, still half-asleep, and stared at Bianca standing in the hallway. "You're serious?" She rolled her eyes. "Don't act like it's such a big deal. It won't even take you that long." My temples throbbed. "I'm not your personal chef. Why would I make you food at 3:00 am?" Instead of apologizing, she crossed her arms and scoffed. "No wonder you're still single. You can't even do someone a small favor. What guy would put up with someone like you? “My boyfriend's the most powerful mafia boss around here. One phone call from me and you won't be living on this street anymore." Well. She clearly had no idea that I was the Principessa of this city's most powerful mafia family. Never mind the apartment, the entire street belonged to me.

Ever since I was brought back to the Colonna Famiglia, my adopted younger sister, Ilaria Colonna, has kept trying to push me into the arms of Luca Balzano, Don of the Balzano Famiglia. 99 times, to be exact. Every single time, she chokes out the same words to him. "The true Principessa of the Colonna Famiglia is the one you're supposed to marry. I'm nothing but an adopted daughter." She dumps every piece of jewelry Luca gives her into my room and keeps arranging opportunities for the two of us to be alone. She even drugs us both and locks us in a room together. Yet every single time, Luca pushes me away, choosing to spend the entire night soaking in ice-cold water rather than lay a finger on me. The satisfaction of triumphing over me, along with Luca's obvious preference for her, feeds Ilaria's ego until she grows bolder and more reckless. Then comes the 100th time. At a high-society gala, Ilaria has Luca publicly announce their upcoming marriage. But as prominent guests offer their congratulations, she pushes me toward Luca once again and repeats the same speech about how she's only the adopted daughter. "Luca, I'm not worthy of you. Rosalia is the woman you should marry." That very night, she boards a flight and flees to Vestrand, certain that everything will play out exactly as it has the previous 99 times. But this time, when Luca takes in the gathered elites and the rival families waiting to watch him make a fool of himself, he looks down at me in his arms. "Rosalia, will you be my wife?"

I came back from picking up takeout to find the fingerprint lock on our front door wouldn't recognize me. The passcode had been changed too. I was about to call my boyfriend Lawrence when I remembered he'd just broken up with me. I looked down at myself, wearing nothing but loungewear and slippers, a coffee stain splashed across my shirt. After a moment's thought, I caved again and sent Lawrence an apology. But the red exclamation mark beside it told me he'd already blocked me. This was the ninth time he'd broken up with me, and the ninth time he'd blocked me. I wanted to knock, but my hand rose only to hang in the air for a few seconds before dropping limply to my side. That closed door might as well have shut out my love along with it. Too many breakups. I was tired. Maybe it was time to let it end. Give him what he wanted, and set myself free.

My wife, Monica, hated the smell of alcohol, so I had never once seen her drink. Not even at the celebration for my succession as Don did she touch a single drop. That changed at a Family banquet, when a party game broke out halfway through. Monica lost. The penalty: sit on the lap of your one true love and share a lovers' toast. Without a second of hesitation, she picked up her glass, settled onto Dillon's lap, and drank it down. The room erupted in cheers, and every pair of eyes turned to me with the same expectation. They were waiting for me to flip the table and storm out. But I just watched Monica in silence, slid the ring off my finger, and placed a set of divorce papers in front of her. "Divorce." My voice was flat. Monica froze for a beat, then let out a scornful laugh. "All because I didn't drink with you?" "Exactly. That's why." I pushed the papers a little closer.

Right before the syndicate's power handover, I flew back to New York after a year of studying jewelry design in Europe. But the night before the ceremony, my secret boyfriend of three years—the Rossi family's new second-in-command—sent me a text: [Sorry, Chloe. I lost a card game, and you were my chip. You're his problem now.] Before I could even breathe, I got tagged in the family's encrypted dark-web channel. The top thread was blowing up: [The Mafia Boss Just Won a Fat Pig for a Girlfriend!] Pinned right at the top was an old photo of me from a few years ago. Back when I was 180 pounds. The comment section was ruthless: [If the Boss knew what he actually won, he'd regret making that bet.] [I bet a thousand bucks she stays hidden at home. Who's in?] They were all dead sure I wouldn't show up. After all, everyone knew me as the ugly fat girl. The old me would have locked myself in my room and cried, letting my boyfriend walk all over me. But after a year away, he had no idea what kind of surprise I had for him. I had dropped from 180 pounds to a flawless, curve-hugging 105. Model scouts even stopped me on the street to ask if I wanted to walk in Fashion Week. So I checked the betting board, dropped fifty grand on myself showing up on time, and sent my reply: [Fine. I'll play your little game.]

My world fell apart over an encrypted link from the dark web. My husband, Don Marcello, was there on our marriage bed, pounding into another woman. All the top bosses in North America were watching. He held her in his arms, laughing about me. His fragile, naive little trophy wife who could never leave him. Even the live chat was a stream of insults. Calling me the useless wife who couldn't even get her husband into bed. But the worst part? The way he acted when I found out. He grabbed my chin. Told me the whole disgusting betrayal was just "an act to keep our allies happy." He even let his mistress brag about it to every socialite in the city. My humiliation became their afternoon entertainment. And me—the good wife who washed the blood from his shirts, the woman he decided was too weak to survive without him—I had to smile at family dinners. He didn't know. When he crushed my loyalty like trash under his heel, I had already started making my move. He thought this was his game to win. His hostile takeover. But when the hammer clicks back, Marcello will understand. His "sweet little wife who only knows how to paint" is the one holding the blade to the entire North American underworld.

The year my daughter was born, I buried my identity as the queen of the Italian Mafia, stepped into the legitimate business world, and gave Emily the safe, ordinary childhood I had never been able to have. Along the way, I took in four boys who had nowhere else to go. I raised Jack, Alex, Daniel, and Ryan as my own sons. I gave them my home, my name, my connections, and eventually enough authority to become the four most powerful men inside Carter Group. Senior executives praised them constantly, calling them the future of the company. Even I thought their growing confidence was a good thing. After all, I had planned to give them far more than Carter Group someday. Then my daughter called me from a locked school bathroom. The four sons I had raised were standing outside, defending another girl while Emily cried for help. They told me Emily was spoiled. That she had grown too used to getting everything simply because she was my daughter. That sometimes, she needed to learn that not everything bearing the Carter name automatically belonged to her. At first, I thought they were only trying to teach their sister a lesson. Then I realized they had started making those decisions everywhere. Who deserved the house. Who deserved the opportunities. Who controlled the company. Even the security guards wearing my family name told me they took orders from my sons now. That was when I understood. They thought they had finally outgrown the woman who raised them. I smiled. Because Carter Group was only the life I had built after I gave up my real throne.