Feel-Good Story の短編小説 & Mafia Face Slapping 小説

Every Mafia family in Sicily knew the story. Susie Campbell, the pampered princess of the Campbell family, had an older sister, Selina Campbell, who loved her more than life itself. On the day Susie's arranged marriage was settled, Selina simply signed her own businesses over to her. But in less than a year, Susie's husband cheated on her. Selina and her husband, Charles Romano, surrounded the estate with guns drawn that same day and threatened to kill him if he refused to sign the divorce papers. All of Sicily envied the bond between the two sisters. Until Charles died in an accident. Then came the day Selina went to claim the inheritance. The estate administrator told her, "I'm sorry, but only a legal spouse can inherit." Selina explained at once. "I'm his wife. Here are my documents." The administrator shook his head. "The records show that you aren't his spouse. You divorced twenty-eight years ago. His current legal spouse is Susie Campbell." The blood drained from Selina's face. She rushed straight back to the estate. The moment she walked in, the attorney handling the estate was already there. He was reading. "Charles Romano left the estate and bank accounts to Susie Campbell. The remaining businesses and shares go to your daughter, Emma Romano. "Selina Campbell is to receive the country house." Susie said, her voice trembling, "Selina, I'm so sorry. Don't worry, I'll move out of the estate." Emma turned on her. "Mom, don't take this out on Aunt Susie just because you're hurt. You already have the country house. Why isn't that enough for you?" Selina tried to speak, but her throat had closed up completely. She had never imagined that the sister she had protected all her life and the daughter she had raised so carefully would conspire with her own husband to deceive her. Everything churning in Selina's chest surged upward in a spray of blood. Voices kept calling her name somewhere nearby. When she woke again, she was twenty-eight years in the past.

At the charity gala, I was about to tell Don Luca Moretti the happy news that I was pregnant. But he cut me off to publicly congratulate his childhood sweetheart, Elena Rossi, on her pregnancy. Elena was single, so I was still wondering who the father of her heir could be when Luca said, “As the baby’s biological father, I couldn’t be more honored...” My ears rang. Then Luca turned to me. “My Donna, on the other hand, has had a much harder time. Four rounds of IVF, and she still hasn’t conceived. But I’m grateful to her for being so gracious about all this.” Elena smiled brightly. “Luca, the results from last week’s checkup are in. It’s a boy. If your Donna can’t give you a child, our two families can share an heir. Wouldn’t that be perfect?” Mocking looks shot toward me from every corner of the room. In that moment, the humiliation nearly swallowed me whole. The month before, Luca had suddenly stopped sleeping with me. Now I knew why: he’d been saving his sperm for another woman. The week before, he’d told me there was trouble at the docks. Then he’d stopped answering my calls and texts. So he hadn’t been negotiating at all. He’d been at the family hospital, accompanying Elena to her prenatal checkup. I had loved Luca for eight years, and for six of them, I’d helped secure his position as Don. Now that power had gone to his head, it was time to remind him exactly who had given him everything he had. I ran a hand over the slight curve of my belly. From today on, the Moretti family would have no claim on me—or anything that was mine.

Drugged by my fiancé and my best friend. Dragged into the penthouse of New York’s most ruthless Mafia Don. But instead of panicking, my tight nerves finally let go. I'm finally home. My fiancé thought the drugs fried my brain. He grabbed my jaw roughly. "Listen up, bitch. Our gang's port smuggling route depends entirely on tonight!" "Word is Cassian's been looking for a woman with a specific butterfly birthmark. The one on your collarbone should fool him." "Serve him like the slut you are. Make him happy. Once the deal is done, I'll even toss you a few stacks of cash." My best friend stroked her red lips and giggled. "Yeah! Getting into the Don's bed is a blessing. Don't act like a prude. Once we get the smuggling route, you'll be our hero. Maybe I'll even let you serve drinks at our wedding." The drugs boiled in my blood. They shoved me roughly through the heavy doors. No one noticed the mocking smirk on my face as I leaned against the sofa. I knew exactly whose territory this was. The unpredictable, violent Mafia tyrant they were talking about? The one who treated women like toys? He's my blood brother. Today, out of pure greed, they hand-delivered me straight into his territory. Tomorrow, they’ll learn that staying alive can be far worse than going to hell.

When I first met Damian Corsetti, he was just one of the Don's many illegitimate sons. He was living a wretched life back then, but his ambition burned all the brighter. "Velia, trust me. One day I'll become the Don, and you'll be the only woman by my side." His confidence won me over. From that day on, I became the deadliest weapon he had. I handled all the dirty work for him. Some questioned his bloodline. I dug up their families' darkest secrets until they had no choice but to swear loyalty to him. Once, I stayed awake for ten days to hunt down a traitor. I caught him moments before he could carry out an assassination. In just a few years, I had become one of the most wanted enemies of nearly every rival Family. And Damian finally became the Don. On the night of his succession ceremony, he walked toward me in a tailored black suit, a bouquet of red roses in his hands. He was finally going to keep his promise. Once he became the Don, he would propose to me. For the first time in years, I lowered my eyes, almost shy. But Damian walked right past me and offered the roses to the woman in the white dress standing behind me. "Vera, will you marry me and become the Don's wife?" Tears streamed down Vera's face as she nodded. Then they kissed, completely lost in each other. The smile froze on my face.

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.

　　Three years ago, at the very wedding I had meticulously prepared, my fiancé, Vito Rossi, turned the ceremony into a stage to propose to his childhood sweetheart, Isabella. 　　When I dared to confront him, he didn't offer an apology. Instead, he threw me into a subterranean dungeon. Whippings, starvation, and systematic humiliation—I nearly drew my last breath in that living hell. 　　Eventually, I chose to let them go. I walked away and married the man who sits at the absolute peak of the underworld—Lorenzo De Santis, the Godfather of the De Santis family. 　　Three years later, at the San Antonio Docks. 　　I accompanied Lorenzo for a business negotiation, but a sudden matter forced him to step away, leaving his men to receive me. I never expected to run into Vito after three years of silence. 　　Vito and his now-fiancée humiliated me in front of the crowd, even accusing me of being a spy and threatening to arrest me. 　　I turned my gaze toward my husband, who had just arrived—the man who rules the entire Mafia world. I lifted my chin and looked at him. 　　"Lorenzo," I said, my voice steady and clear. "This maniac wants to throw your wife into a dungeon again. How do you intend to handle this?"

Six months later, Carlo, who once terrorized Port San Vito and forced us to pay protection money, knelt in the muddy water and blocked my path. Red-eyed, he begged me to bring the Moretti convoys back. "Ms. Moretti, if you come back, there'll be no protection money and no parking fees... I'll even pay you." I regarded him coldly and remembered how, six months earlier, he had flicked ash onto my financial statements and looked down at me as he said, "Pay, or get out of Port San Vito."

Back in El Tricolor, there's a rule: If I don't get married by thirty, I have to go back and marry the woman my father arranged for me. When my girlfriend, Stella Ross, heard this, her face filled with complete disdain. "Arranged marriage? Is your home in some remote tribe? Or are you stuck in the Middle Ages? Alan, quit with these pathetic excuses to force a marriage!" She let out a mocking laugh and pulled out a ring. "I was actually planning to accept your proposal and even bought us a pair of rings. But since you're so desperate, I think we both need some space to cool off." With that, she tossed the ring straight to her assistant, Ethan Parker. The marriage I had waited years for was casually thrown to someone else, just like that ring. Ethan caught it and shot me a triumphant smirk. As I stood there, frozen, Stella brushed right past me and walked out of the office, sneering. The next second, Ethan feigned embarrassment and held the ring out to me, but I didn't glance his way. "Keep it. I know that's your size anyway," I said. His smile froze on his face. I had zero interest in continuing their little game. Before stepping out of the office, I dropped a single line: "Tell your boss we're broken up." What Stella didn't know was that the father forcing me into marriage was the don of the El Tricolor mafia, and I was his sole heir. And the woman arranged for me was the only daughter of the most powerful mafia don in North Usonia.

Before my grandfather, the Don of the Rinaldi family, dies, he leaves behind a will. The five Principessas of the Rinaldi family are forbidden from using our family name. We must live like ordinary people until one of us gives birth to the first heir. Whoever does so will inherit everything. For three years, I keep my identity hidden. My husband, Oliver Wright, and I live in a cramped apartment to the south of Windmere. Every morning, we squeeze onto the subway to get to work. When we're short on money, we stay up late making plans and racking our brains trying to keep his small company afloat. I never think life is hard because I love him. One day, the doctor hands me my medical test results—I am the first one to become pregnant. Upon learning this, my whole body trembles with excitement. The life that Oliver and I have struggled toward for years suddenly feels within reach. I drive home with a happy smile on my face as I imagine how he will react. But when I push the door open, I see a woman wearing my favorite nightgown. She is sitting with Oliver, sharing the apple I left in the refrigerator with him. He takes a bite from her hand and glances at me casually. "My first love, Maeve Young, is back. Let's get a divorce." My fingers tighten around the pregnancy test report. Then, I smile and say, "Sure." What he doesn't know is that his penniless, patient, obedient, and endlessly forgiving wife has a last name powerful enough to open every door in Windmere. I will keep this child, and the family fortune will still pass to me. As for my husband, Oliver? I'm ready to let him go.

The news came that Raymond had been shot. I was seven months pregnant, but I flew straight across the country to the family's East Coast compound—and got detained the moment I stepped inside. “Never heard of the Don having a fiancée, and pregnant no less. You've got some nerve running a con on Carraso turf.” The barrel of a gun pressed cold against my temple. My heart was clawing its way up my throat when I caught sight of a familiar figure across the room. “Raffina,” I shouted, “tell them I'm your brother-in-law's fiancée.” Raffina gave a small wave of her hand, and the man holding the gun immediately bent at the waist. “Donna, I didn't know she was a friend of yours. My mistake.” I stared with wide eyes, unable to make sense of what I was seeing. Inside the compound, the same man crossed to where Raymond sat on the couch without a scratch on him, and gave a formal nod. “Don, she claims she's your fiancée.” Raymond took a slow sip of his whiskey and shook his head, just barely. They dragged me out, and on the way the man slapped me across the face, warning me not to try my con act anywhere near the family again. I pulled the engagement ring off my finger and went straight to International Financial Tower.

Everyone in the underworld knew Daniel Taylor loved me more than anything. He was a powerful mafia Don. Yet every year, he set aside a whole month to go to the monastery of San Colombano, climb its 102 stone steps one by one, and pray for me and the child we'd lost. And I had always believed I was the happiest woman in the world. Until the day I saw the video my best friend, Talia Marino, posted on Facebook for her son Renzo's fifth birthday. In the video, Renzo kept calling out for his daddy in a singsong voice. A moment later, a pair of hands reached into the frame and picked him up. Gentle, practiced hands. But I recognized the four-leaf clover bracelet on one wrist. I'd searched the whole city to find it for Daniel. I sat in front of a warm fire, but a chill crept through me. Just then, Rosa Santos, our housekeeper, came over. She took the 4D ultrasound printout from my hand. It had already started to yellow. "Donna, are you thinking about your daughter again?" I looked up. I hadn't even noticed the tears on my face. Yes. I was thinking about her again. Today was the anniversary of her death. I closed the video and called the cemetery office at the monastery. "Hello, this is Lucia Capello. I'd like to arrange for my daughter, Emma Taylor, to be reburied..." "Of course. You'll need to submit the paperwork, and the process takes three days." When I hung up, I booked a flight to Malmö for three days later.

The scent of costly tobacco mixed with the faint, lingering aroma of heavy perfume, but inside the luxury suite, it was his words that drew blood. Just moments after laying me across the silk sheets of his penthouse, my fiancé, Nikolai—a rising mafia lord in the syndicate—pulled me tightly into his chest. "Maria," he murmured, his voice laced with lazy amusement. "Your little club manager from the harbor... she’s got a hot figure. Share her private number with me." I froze, turning my head slowly to look at him. He casually pulled the fur throw over my legs, his expression utterly unbothered. "We’re going to seal our families' alliance sooner or later anyway. But spending an entire lifetime bound to just one woman in our line of work? Don't you think that’s just too old fashioned?" He chuckled low in his throat. "I’m not ready to burn down the entire forest just for a single rose." I stared at him for a few silent seconds before pushing his heavy, scarred hand off my hip. I nodded calmly. "Understood." The night I stripped my name from his domain and packed my crates, Nikolai blocked the vaulted entryway, his brow furrowed deep enough to carve steel. "Maria, didn't we agree to keep our relationship open? What are you making a scene for? You know how the underworld works." I bent down, picking up the heavy leather suitcase holding my records and my life. "No thanks. I no longer support this arrangement." Months later, after he had his fill of chaos and realized what true power he had traded away, Nikolai tracked me down to the high tables of the grand summit. He came to claim what he thought was still his. I glanced down at the platinum signet ring freshly slipped onto my finger given by a man far superior to him, and smiled faintly. "Sorry, Nikolai, but I don't long for a trash can."

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.

For an entire year, I'd been in an online relationship with a guy named Gravano. We were deep in the honeymoon phase—every night, his messages would light up my phone like clockwork, sending my pulse racing and my cheeks burning. [Thinking about you, baby.] [Had another dream about you last night. You were on top of me, begging for more.] [Promise me we'll never be apart. Okay?] I was about to suggest we finally meet in person. Then he sent me a picture—and the man in it was my boss. The most notorious playboy in the entire city. I decided to break it off, convinced he'd been playing me for a fool. But just days after I sent Gravano my breakup text, a man who looked exactly like my boss cornered me against the wall and asked, his voice low and dangerous— "Didn't we promise each other... forever?"

My mother is the Royal duchy and I am her sole heir. My mother was once deceived by my father, which nearly bankrupted our family. That bastard father of mine disappeared without a trace, taking the fortune he'd stolen from my mother and running off with his mistress. To prevent me from falling for the same kind of man in the future—to keep me from being fooled and robbed blind—my mother adopted two war orphans. She planned to raise them as potential husband candidates for me. But mother never knew the truth. These two men appeared respectful and obedient to her arrangements on the surface. But privately, they were both infatuated with my maid Josie. They constantly neglected me and made my life difficult, all to win her favor. My favorite, Marcus Reed, even gave up his own last name. He changed it to Josie's—Marcus Thompson. The betrayal cut deeper than I'd expected. Before mother died, she asked me the question I'd been dreading. "Which one do you want to choose as your husband?" But I had heard something interesting lately. There was a mafia heir—Vincent Rossi—who was notorious for his violence. He'd killed innocent people. Years of brutal fighting had left him severely injured. The doctors said he had less than six months to live. The mafia Rossi family wanted to marry him to a noblewoman before he died. I didn't hesitate to reach out to him. I offered an alliance through marriage. To my surprise, the Rossi family agreed. But on my wedding day, Marcus and the other candidate burst into the ceremony. They begged me to reconsider. "Please, don't do this!" Marcus shouted, his face desperate. "You can't marry him!" I stood there in my wedding dress, looking at the two men who had spent years ignoring me for my maid. Now they wanted me back? How interesting.

On the day my dad, the Don of the Capone family, comes to the orphanage to take me home, I show up in a tactical helmet and a bulletproof vest. "I'm not going home with you. You're definitely doing this to trick me into getting married to a perverted old geezer in a marriage alliance. I bet my adopted sister has made preparations to start fake-crying anytime by loading up on her eyedrops." My dad is amused, to say the least. "Why would any of that happen? Silvia is nothing but welcoming you to our home! Also, our family isn't a lowly organization that deals with human trafficking." But I refuse to believe my dad at all. On the way home, I keep typing something on my phone. My mom, the Donna, leans over curiously. "Are you writing a diary entry?" "Nope. I'm writing tips on 'How to Survive the Mafia.'" 1) My food will definitely be poisoned. 2) If I get close to a staircase, I'll definitely get pushed down the stairs. 3) I'll get framed for something that I've never done before. My parents swear to me that none of the things I've written will ever happen. They tell me that my adopted sister, Silvia Capone, has a great personality, and things are amicable in the family. However, everything changes when Silvia brings me a glass of juice before lunchtime and insists on watching me drink it. Instead, I dump the juice into a nearby vase of flowers. Just as my parents are about to scold me for wasting the juice, smoke begins drifting from the flowers inside the vase. Then, they start wilting rapidly. I calmly leave a bright red checkmark behind the "poison" tip. As my parents stare at the dead flowers, they can feel color draining from their faces. "You should send the juice to a chem lab for analysis."

My employees host a savage livestream cursing me out as a cold-blooded Scrooge just because I didn't hand out frozen turkeys for Thanksgiving. What the internet didn't know was that our company, rooted in a powerful mafia family, has one, single, unbreakable tradition for every major holiday: ten uncirculated American Eagle gold bullion coins hand-delivered directly from our private vault. No paper trails, no taxes, no exceptions. As the whole internet was calling for my head after watching her livestream, I decided to give them exactly what they wanted. I sent out a company-wide memo: "To honor our cherished holiday traditions, the family gold distribution program will be discontinued this year. In its place, to ensure everyone experiences a traditional Thanksgiving, all employees will receive a complimentary, grocery-tier frozen turkey." The memo dropped. The office exploded. A stampede of my employees swarmed my office door, practically on their knees begging me to bring back the gold.

My baby brother was barely a month old when my father's mistress threw him off the upstairs balcony to his death. Then she turned around and said my mother had done it. And my father, the Don, took the mistress at her word and had my mother killed. That woman framed me too, and I was cast out of the house. For the next fifteen years, I clawed my way up through begging and reckless grit, until I became the Donna of the Vanetti family. Then one day, my adopted son Daniel Vanetti brought his new girlfriend to meet me. "Mother, this is Via, the Principessa of the Vitale family. I want to marry her." I looked at Via. Her face was the spitting image of my father's mistress. What a small world. The daughter of the woman who killed my mother had walked right up to my door. So I refused without a second's hesitation. "I don't approve."

I gave Julian Kane everything: my family’s connections, my clients, my lawyers, my money, and even the Manhattan office his company called home. For five years, I let him build his empire on my back. Then his new intern accused me of skipping work and stealing company money. She wanted my title, my clients, my office, and the black card that opened the most powerful doors in New York. Julian knew the truth, but he still let the whole company shame me. So I handed over the card. They thought I was finished, but they forgot one thing: the card was mine, the building was mine, the clients were mine, and the name they mocked was Moretti. If they wanted to call me a thief, I would show them exactly what they had stolen. If they wanted to drag me into the spotlight, I would let the whole city watch them fall. I didn’t come back to beg. I came back to collect.

My boyfriend, Miles, finally invited me to his family’s Christmas dinner. I passed out on the way there. Half-conscious, I heard him whisper, “Sorry, Eva. Those thugs said you’re just their boss’s type. Too pretty for your own good, babe. Blame that—not me.” “Don’t be scared. If you help me pay off the debt… maybe they’ll let me have you back. I’ll make it up to you. For the rest of your life, I swear.” He wheeled me through the back of a casino. My family’s casino. The boss he was selling me to… was my brother. Ever since our parents died in a crossfire, my brother had taken full responsibility for me. More than a brother, he’d become a father figure—a protector. My stupid boyfriend should be scared—he had no idea how fiercely my brother protected me, or how ruthless he could be to anyone who dared hurt me.