Feel-Good Story Short Stories & Mafia Face Slapping Novels

Everyone knew Lorenzo Moretti, the undisputed ruler of the estate, was hopelessly in love with me. To prove it, he bought a private paradise and christened it Lucy Island. The rule was simple: once a year, members of the Moretti Empire would spin a grand wheel for a chance to spend a night on the island. Lorenzo swore we would only wed there, throwing a feast for the ages. Yet for seven excruciating years, every time I spun the wheel, it delivered the same mocking verdict: Better Luck Next Year. I became the only woman in the empire forbidden from stepping foot on the island built in my name. Our wedding remained frozen in time. “Rules are rules, Lucy,” Lorenzo would insist. “A Moretti never breaks his word.” Exhausted by the endless waiting, I sneaked into the hall the night before the event, magnet in hand, determined to rig the wheel in my favor. Then I heard his voice, sharp and calculating. “Set the same mechanism. Lucy’s wheel cannot stop on my name.” I froze. “You’ve made her spin a rigged wheel for seven years,” his assistant, Mark, ventured carefully. “Aren't you afraid she’ll leave?” Lorenzo’s cold smirk echoed through the dark room. “Who would dare touch what belongs to me?” “Do you feel nothing for her?” Mark pressed. “Rosaline needs only one more year to recover,” Lorenzo replied smoothly. “Next year, I’ll marry Lucy as promised.” Rosaline. His childhood friend. The woman who mysteriously landed on Lorenzo’s name every single year, spending the night on my island, in my bed, while Lorenzo claimed it was just bad luck. When I argued with him, he would casually say, “One night of love can't erase the passion I have for you, Lucy. You are my fiancée. That will never change.” Standing in the shadows with a magnet in my palm, I finally saw the truth. I wasn’t his grand love—I was his grand illusion.

To expand my family's arms empire, I personally blew our old base sky-high. As I surveyed the charred ruins, I filmed a video and posted it on social media. I joked that my family had suffered a crushing defeat in a turf war and that I would have to wait tables to survive. My fiancé Antonio, who had always doted on me, called immediately. Feeling mischievous, I pretended to be afraid and tested him. "Anton, my home has been leveled, and our enemies are hunting me down everywhere… I’m terrified. Will you run away with me?" To my surprise, Antonio gave a cold laugh on the other end of the line and snapped at me. "Know your place, Ophelia. Without your status as the Don’s daughter, you should thank God I even called you! What rotten luck. Don’t lead your enemies to me. We’re through!" He hung up without another word. I stood there stunned. The moment I recovered, I saw his public announcement. In the photo, he was kissing the hand of the daughter of my family’s sworn enemy. The caption read: "For the rest of my life, loyal only to a true queen." I stared at the photo, then lowered my gaze to the engagement ring I had chosen so carefully. The irony was bitter. Perhaps it was for the best. I had planned to give him the underground arms route that controlled the lifeblood of Sicily’s arms trade as a wedding surprise. Now it would serve another owner just as well.

On my way to a wedding meant to seal an alliance between our families, our enemies kidnapped me. The maid who had look after me since childhood never told my father. Instead, she stole my identity and married William Voss, heir to the Voss family. It took everything I had to escape. When I saw their wedding photo, rage surged through me. I was ready to storm in and expose her when a stream of floating comments appeared before my eyes. [The heroine can't seriously think William knows nothing, can she? He planned everything. He and her maid staged the whole thing so the maid could take her place.] [If she exposes the truth on the wedding day, she'll be an idiot. Even if William has the maid executed on the spot, he'll hate her for it. Once he becomes Don, he'll throw her overboard on their honeymoon and feed her to the sharks.] I stared at the comments, unable to believe what I was reading. Only when I saw the Voss convoy pulling farther away did I run after it. I held up my family crest and called out, "I'm the eldest daughter of the Hathaway family. My maid was kidnapped. For the sake of our families' alliance, will you help me find her?" Sure enough, one of the Voss council members stepped out of the car. A bitter laugh escaped me. William wanted my family's support so he could become Don, but he also wanted my maid. I wasn't about to let him have both. I wanted to see how he would clean up the mess once his plan fell apart.

I was New York’s golden girl, the perfect princess. But for three years, I loved a monster, Don Damien Costello. I finally got the courage to propose. And I found him kissing another woman, Sophia Marcelli, the princess of our rival family. "I'm bored with you, my perfect little doll. I need a real queen. Sophia is the only one fit to be by my side." All of New York was talking. Damien Costello had tossed me aside. So I moved on, Found another man. Left my old self behind. We kissed in a cramped elevator. I did something I'd never dared to do. I just never expected the doors to open. And there he was. My ex. Don Damien. His face was pure murder.

By the fifth year of my marriage to James Hill, he began pretending to be his late twin brother, the late Don of the family. With that, he took over all of a Don’s duties and the role of my sister-in-law, Hilary’s husband. Every time after he slept with her, he would cut his arm open, kneel before me, and beg for forgiveness. “Pia, you’re the only woman I’ve ever loved. Once Hilary gives birth to the heir and secures her position, I’ll fake my death and come back for you.” He told me his twin brother had died saving him, so he had to fulfill his brother’s last wish. During the year he pretended to be his brother, James slept with Hilary ninety-nine times. After a full year, Hilary finally gave birth to the family’s heir. I truly believed James would fake his death as promised, then take our son and me away from this bloody life. However, I saw him with Hilary in his arms, teasing the tiny baby she carried. “Hilary, I’ll stay with you and our child until he’s ready to take over as the next Don.” Silently, I wiped my tears and went back to my room to pack my suitcase. My son saw me crying and ran into my arms, gently wiping away my tears with his little hands. “Ma, Aunt Hilary already had her baby. Why isn’t Papa coming home yet?” I placed my clothes into the suitcase as I told him softly, “Because he doesn’t want us anymore. But don’t be sad, sweetheart. I will build us a home.” If James wanted to raise an heir, then I would return to North Atlantis’s most powerful mafia family, take my rightful place as my father’s heir, and become the Godmother of the Mafia.

The second day after I was transferred back to Los Angeles, I ran into someone I used to know on a street corner. She stepped right in front of me, eyes going wide. “Mia? Mia Rossi? Why would you come back now? Dante's marrying Camille at the cathedral in a week.” Dante was my first love, and also the youngest heir to a mafia dynasty on this side of the Atlantic. He'd made me a promise once: that he'd make the entire Moretti family kneel and welcome me in. We had a deal: the day he officially took over as Don would be the day he married me. But his family had other plans. They arranged a match for him: Camille, a princess from one of Sicily's five great families. Pure bloodline, the genuine article. At first, Dante swore up and down she meant nothing to him. Less than nothing. Then I started noticing how he looked at her. Softer every time. Like he was falling. One night, riding home after a shift at the bar, Camille's car came out of nowhere and took me down. The gas tank caught, and half the block reeked of burning rubber and scorched metal. I was pinned under the wreckage, blood seeping from the back of my skull down my neck, warm at first, then cold. Dante was the first one there. He beat the ambulance. The first thing he did was walk past me. He crouched down, lifted Camille out of the passenger seat, and didn't look at me once, just dropped a few words over his shoulder: “I already called an ambulance. Hang tight. Camille's had too much to drink. I need to get her home.” That was the moment I was done with him. Completely, finally done. While he was gone, I discharged myself. I bought the farthest plane ticket I could find that same night and left without looking back. Five years passed. “Mia, you have no idea.” The woman grabbed my wrist, dropping her voice. “Dante spent years turning half of Europe upside down looking for you. You came back at the right time. He still keeps a seat for you every month on his birthday. Camille's too proud for a lot of things,

At the party celebrating Ryan making partner, his childhood friend, Jenna knew I was deathly allergic to peanuts, yet she deliberately put peanut syrup in my drink. I drank it, Within seconds, my throat began to tighten, constriction seizing my windpipe like a closing fist. Panic flared in my chest as a suffocating wave of heat rushed to my face. Desperate, I grabbed my emergency allergy spray from my purse. Instead, a harsh minty sting sprayed into my throat. She had swapped my medication with a mint spray. I turned pale and collapsed onto the hardwood floor, clawing at my neck, gasping for even a shred of oxygen. Jenna laughed so hard that tears welled in her eyes. "Wow, Isabella Moretti. Someone get this girl an Oscar for that performance. I’ve been a nurse at the top hospital in Chicago for five years, and I’ve never seen anyone throw a tantrum like this over a splash of syrup." I crawled toward Ryan on my hands and knees, biting my lower lip until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. "Ryan... please... call 911... I can't breathe..." Ryan looked down at me."Stop pretending, Isabella. Nobody drops dead from a little drink. Jenna is a medical professional. If you were actually in danger, she’d be the first to know." With that, he turned his back on me. I stopped begging. Using my final shred of strength, I triggered the phone's emergency SOS. A silent distress signal and my live GPS location immediately shot straight to my father.

Just before the weapons design competition, my design schematics mysteriously go missing. Since I no longer have anything to submit, I'm disqualified from the competition. Meanwhile, my older sister, Camilla Cassano, steals the show with my designs. She gets what she wants, which is to marry the next don of the Carbone family—and the man I've had a crush on since I was a child—Leon Carbone. When she brags about it to me, I don't kick up a fuss. Instead, I calmly wish her the best. In my previous life, I'd chosen to expose her on the spot. I seized back the glory that was meant to be mine and married Leon. I thought that was the start of my happiness, but it turned out to be the beginning of my nightmare. Leon had always been in love with Camilla. Throughout our five years of marriage, I was made to slave away like a robot and spend all my time researching. In the end, I was blown to pieces in an explosion triggered by sheer exhaustion. Now that I'm back in time, I personally deliver Camilla to Leon's side, and I marry Don Lorenzo Marra, the notoriously ruthless womanizer. Everyone waits to watch me sink into the depths of despair, rueing my every decision. I'm the only one who knows just how powerful the man, so misunderstood by the world, truly is.

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.

I was chosen to be the fiancée of Lorenzo, the Mafia’s heir. But at a family gala, Lorenzo was openly pursued by Chiara, the daughter of an arms dealer. Chiara wasn’t like the other rule-abiding debutantes.She tore through the streets in a modified sports car, used a military-grade combat knife to cut her cigars, and drank the harshest whiskey neat.There was an untamed wildness about her, a fire Lorenzo couldn’t look away from. He complained to the family elders, “How can a woman like that possibly be our Madre and run this entire family?” His words dripped with disdain for her recklessness, yet his eyes were glued to her, tracking her every move as she raised her glass. Then, on Lorenzo’s birthday, he announced his intention to make Chiara his mistress. Chiara refused.”The women of my family are wives, never mistresses.And my husband’s heart must belong only to me.” Lorenzo came to me, his voice hesitant.”Alessia, it’s just a title.I need you to give it to Chiara.Please? She doesn’t understand our family’s traditions, and she’s making a scene about marrying me.We just need to pacify her for now.Even if she marries me, you will still be the one to manage the family’s affairs.” As I stood trying on my wedding gown, a sharp crystal bead on the bodice pierced my finger.A single drop of blood bloomed against the pure white satin. The dress was ruined, but the wedding would go on. Since he chose someone else to be his wife, I will become his Madre.

My father was one of the first dons to rise out of the Naples mob. My mother was an iron-fisted businesswoman with a reputation that made grown men flinch. When I was ten, somebody had the nerve to hijack one of my father's freight ships. He had the man's arms and legs broken with a crowbar, then stuffed a handful of gold rings down his throat — told him to count his money while he crawled. When I was fifteen, some scheming woman tried to get her claws into my father. My mother hired the filthiest pimps off the docks, shipped her down to a back-alley bar in Marseille, and told her to make her own way. And me — I grew up running the streets of Naples like I owned them. The sons of every other family knew to call me Miss Ferrante and keep their hands to themselves. Then I met him. A rough, quiet man fresh out of the army. For him I put down the knives, traded the silk for plain cotton, and followed him back to that little nothing of a coastal town, Porto Scuro. Today my mother-in-law and my husband went down to the dock warehouses to settle a dispute. They held her face down in a barrel of rotting fish guts. They kicked in three of his ribs. I stared at the salt fish I'd been slicing on the kitchen board, let out a cold laugh, and brought the knife down so hard the oak split in half. Then I dialed my father's private line.

During a dinner party hosted by the Cassano crime family, a lace garter stained with dried fluid dropped out of Matthew's pocket. He was the Don's son-in-law. When questioned, Matthew insisted I had tried to seduce him, failed, and planted my own underwear on him as a setup. In my past life, I was just a maid for the Cassano family. Simply because I had a killer body and a pretty face, the hot-tempered mafia princess, Caroline, refused to listen to a word I said. She had me fed alive to a venomous snake. My parents came seeking justice, only to end up at the bottom of the river. In this life, I faced Matthew's setup once again. "She sneaked into my booth and threw herself at me! When I rejected her, she planted this on me to ruin my marriage with Caroline!" But I was no longer a lowly maid. I held a Ph.D. in Economics from Yale and served as the Chief Advisor for the Visconti family, a global mafia empire.

On Christmas Day, my boyfriend of five years, Damian Reed, threw me the proposal of a lifetime. I stared down at the ring resting on my finger, totally overwhelmed with happiness. I was just about to say yes when my father’s words suddenly echoed in my mind. "Anna, the only man you ever marry is the one willing to give you the wedding of the century, someone who wants the entire world to know he's taking you as his wife. "It's not about how much money the wedding costs," he used to tell me, "What I'm testing is his heart, whether he has the genuine devotion to reveal your true identity to everyone." My father, Marco James, is the Don of the James family, the most powerful mafia in New York. Even as the daughter of a mafia boss, I’ve always been a hopeless romantic. Years ago, my father and I made a pact. I would keep my true identity hidden until I met someone truly willing to give everything for me. As a result, I was always terrified of falling too deep, never letting down my guard until I met Damian. His love for me was fierce, loud, and obvious to everyone. Ever since we got together, he bent over backward to grant my every wish. I finally let my guard down. With a net worth of five hundred million dollars and a heart that belonged completely to me, I was sure Damian would pass my father's test with flying colors. Shaking with excitement, I laid out the conditions for our wedding right then and there. In a split second, Damian's face darkened. The warmth drained completely, replaced by a freezing, distant glare. "Anna, of course I can give a million-dollar wedding of the century," he said, his tone chillingly sharp, "But you didn't say a single word about this while we were dating. Now, right before you say yes, you suddenly drop a price tag on me? Do you think you've got me trapped?" My breath hitched as I froze in disbelief. Before I could process what he said, his secretary, Sophia Cooper, slammed a worn folder in front of me. A sharp, stinging ridicule cut through the air as she sneered. "I’ve dealt with plenty of gold diggers like you," Sophia spat out, her laugh brutally harsh, "You think having a pretty face means you can play games and walk away with something for nothing?" Damian didn't say another word. He turned on his heel and walked off with his secretary trailing right behind him, leaving me standing alone in the biting wind, humiliated and numb. I swallowed hard, wiping the tears from my cheeks, and turned down the ride his chauffeur offered. Clutching the heavy train of my dress, I started walking away into the cold night. He thought I was just some ruthless gold digger. What he didn’t realize was that the wedding gift my father had prepared for me was a mind-blowing fortune he couldn't even fathom.

My father, Wyatt Rossini, believed Rhett Raines had the best chance of becoming the next Don of the Raines Family. So he arranged our engagement. For three years, I helped Rhett manage his businesses and the Family. I spent countless hours networking with every major Family in the region and building connections on his behalf. I stayed by his side through enemy ambushes and hails of bullets. Surviving one close call after another made me believe we were deeply in love. He used to hold me tenderly in his arms. Whenever he looked at me, his gaze was warm and full of adoration. "Vera, I'll make you my Donna. We'll spend the rest of our lives happily together." Then, while protecting Rhett, I unknowingly drank poison and ended up in a hospital bed, fighting for my life. By then, Rhett had long since secured his position as Don, but he ended up marrying my best friend, Lina Moretti. In the video, Rhett cupped Lina's face and kissed her with such tenderness, as if she were a priceless treasure. My father stood nearby, wiping tears of joy from his eyes. The pain in my chest felt like a knife twisting through me. "Vera, do you see now? These people were never worth your love." A deep, husky voice came through the video call. I wiped my tears and took a deep breath before answering. "I accept your proposal. We'll have the wedding next week."

The year I went missing, I met a fortune-teller who said I was destined for wealth and power. After that, two mafia families claimed me as their daughter, one after another. The fake princess of the first family stabbed herself and framed me for it. I played the wounded victim and walked away with half of their smuggling and money-laundering network as compensation. The fake princess of the second family framed me as a traitor who had leaked secrets to the enemy. I turned her trap against her, flushed out a nest of real moles, and took over the core of the family's gunrunning operation. Only after a DNA test did I learn that I was the princess of Sicily's most powerful mafia family. At my welcome-home party, the fake princess spilled a glass of wine down the front of her own dress and sank to the floor in front of me. "Jessica, I know you hate me. But I have a heart condition, and the doctors say I won't live past 25. Please, I'm begging you, let me spend the three years I have left with Mom and Dad. Please?" My biological mother, Elena Andreani, slapped me in front of everyone, then pulled Lily into her arms and glared at me like I was the enemy. "Lily may not be my flesh and blood, but I've always loved her as my own. You've barely set foot in this house, and you're already trying to drive her out. Do you want her dead?" My father, Ilario Andreani, didn't say a word, but there was murder in his eyes. Even the man who had just been named as my fiancé rushed over and stepped in front of her. "You have no manners at all. I'm warning you: apologize to Lily today, or the engagement is off." I gave a thin smile, walked slowly over to Lily, and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Don't worry. I'm not going to make you leave. "After all... you're so far beneath me that you aren't worth my time."

My 30th birthday. My childhood friend, Jax, told me to meet him at Chicago City Hall. “Wear the custom wedding dress. Bring your ID.” He promised me a surprise I’d never forget. But when I got there, he just casually lifted his cigar to his rich friends. “See? She actually wore the wedding dress. Pay up. The limited-edition Aston Martin is mine.” Then, he turned to me. “Clara. It was a joke. You didn’t take it seriously, did you?” I said nothing. He was so sure of himself. No matter what he did, I was his little shadow. The girl who couldn't live without him. I’d always come crawling back, crying, begging him to marry me. His face, the one I used to love, twisted into a sneer. “If you’re that desperate to get married, go grab some homeless guy off the street. See if anyone wants you. Don’t worry. I’ll party a few more years. Then maybe I’ll be generous and keep the fiancée spot open for you.” The crowd of men and women behind him erupted in laughter. They laughed at me. The parasite Jax couldn't shake. The idiot waiting for him to throw me a bone. But when I walked out on the arm of my new husband—a literal Mafia Don—and flashed a very real marriage certificate, Jax’s face went dead white.

Five years ago, the Gotti family, who were on the verge of bankruptcy, managed to rise from the ashes thanks to my investment. Eventually, they develop their company into a firearms company that's well-known in the west, and they earn over hundreds of millions of dollars' worth of profits annually. At the celebratory party, Elena Bellini, the HR manager who has only joined the company for less than a month, shows my photo and my salary. She then berates me for skipping out on work and stealing from the company. "Half a year ago, Valentina went missing for more than a month for no reason! Even when she's needed for work at the company, she's nowhere to be found! "Also, how can a bottom feeder like her afford to spend money at the high-end restaurants and malls?" Elena keeps her head raised high as she looks at me in disdain. "The reason why Valentina has disappeared is so that she can steal expensive items from the company and sell them to other clients! This photo of her stealing a bottle of red wine is the proof! "I strongly suggest that Valentina is to be dismissed on the spot! We can't let her continue breaking the company's rules!" I remain silent as I turn to look at Matteo Gotti, the CEO of the company. He knows that a bunch of robbers had stolen a batch of important products half a year ago. I was the one who had snatched everything back without a weapon under my arsenal, seeing as I had walked past the warehouse by coincidence at that time. Because of that, I ended up getting injured and had to spend a month just to recuperate. Matteo also knows that I've taken the red wine just to entertain the other mafia leaders, who happen to be the company's clients. That red wine isn't for my own consumption at all. But he has the nerve to chuck the folder away angrily before glaring at me coldly, as though I truly am a criminal. "Valentina Caruso, is Elena speaking the truth? You'd better explain yourself right now!" I just sneer at him in return. "I have nothing to say." The frightening reality and the outcome, which is obviously a failure, is the best explanation I've given them.

I was eight months pregnant when I slipped in the bathroom. I lay bleeding on the floor, unable to move. My Apple Watch sent a fall alert to my husband, Gabriel, the mafia don. I waited on the cold tiles for forty minutes. He never came. A maid bringing my dinner heard me calling for help. She called the guards, who broke down the door and rushed me to the hospital. When Gabriel arrived, he held my hand. “I’m sorry, Nora. I won’t let this happen to you or our baby again. I promise.” After I came home, he replaced the tiles in every bathroom so I wouldn’t slip again. Everyone said he loved me more than anything. But we both knew where he’d been during those forty minutes. He was at his late brother’s wife Celeste’s house, taking care of her son, Aaron. Before I fell, he’d sent me a text. “Aaron fell. I need to go check on him.” When my alert came through, he tapped to confirm he’d seen it. Then he went back to cleaning his nephew’s scraped knee. He thought I’d forgive him like I always did. A month later, he was about to name Aaron his heir until our son was old enough to take over. He sent the butler to bring us down for the announcement. The butler returned with divorce papers. “Don, I’m afraid Donna has already left for Zurich.”

I am about to book a room at a hotel owned by Luca Conti, a consigliere under my command, when a sharp voice suddenly cuts in from behind me. "Aspetta. That's not your price." I turn around. A woman wearing a manager's badge stands there with her arms crossed, scrutinizing me as if I am an unsightly stain she can't wait to wipe away. "We don't allow prostitution here," she says coolly. "If you're receiving clients, there will be a fine." As she speaks, she hands me a penalty notice. The charges are clearly listed on the paper. "Illegal guest reception fee: 350 thousand dollars. "Special soundproofing fee: 150 thousand dollars. "Special cleaning fee: 100 thousand dollars. "Total fee: 600 thousand dollars." Receiving clients? I have simply come straight from a Mafia cocktail party without changing clothes—that's all. What exactly does she take me for?" I lift my gaze and answer evenly, "You're mistaken. I am not that kind of person. You can contact the hotel owner, Luca Conti, and ask him who I am." A sneer flickers through Sofia Rossi's eyes. She spits to the side, full of contempt. "Still claiming you are not a puttana? Women like you come here every week. Every single one of them swears she knows him. "Our boss is the consigliere to the Russo family, the most powerful Mafia family in Seneriffe. Do you really think he needs someone cheap like you? "I suggest you pay up now, subito, before your client loses patience and drags you into the street and rapes you." I do not waste another word on her. I take out my phone and send a message directly to my secretary, Marco Bianchi. "Notify Luca. Either this manager, Sofia Rossi, disappears from this city, or he does."

My husband's childhood sweetheart took the Cullinan I gave him for a midnight joyride. One person ended up critically injured. He wired half a million euros from the family account to hire a fall guy, then flew her to Switzerland for a ski trip. I called him from outside the operating room, desperate. "Your father is dying. Authorize the surgery, now!" He laughed, her head on his shoulder in the video call. "Using my father's health to lie? Sofia, you've crossed a line." The line went dead. The heart monitor flatlined. Later, at his father's funeral, he raged, swearing to find the killer and make them pay. I looked at the gathered family elders, then pointed at the trembling woman behind him. "The killer is right there. The one you paid to protect."