Plot Twists Short Stories & Mafia Face Slapping Novels

At the upscale restaurant, my boyfriend, William Falco, and my best friend, Ella Bellini, chatted animatedly in Saturnian. I kept my head down and silently cut into my steak. Then William said to Ella, "Keep talking. Sofia's too much of an idiot to understand a word anyway. Just pretend she doesn't exist." I frowned and looked up. William immediately switched to our native language and asked gently, "What's wrong, baby? Is the steak not good?" I stared at him, and something suddenly clicked. Whenever the three of us were together, William and Ella always spoke Saturnian to each other. They had grown up on the same block, and both of their fathers were in the Gothamere mafia. The two of them never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Whenever I asked what they had been discussing, William, the capo of their territory, would give me an impatient look. "Mafia business. Not telling you is for your own good." Ella glanced at me before continuing in Saturnian, "Are you sure this is fine? Last month, she had a high fever and begged you to come home, but you spent the whole night at my place instead. What if she looks into it?" William shook his head and let out a short, mocking laugh. "Looks into it? With what? She's just some ordinary girl with no background. Who else could she depend on besides me?" I froze. My fork and knife nearly slipped from my hands. They had no idea that my mother was the princess of the Cisilian mafia or that I had been born in Saturnia. Only after the mafia's civil war was I secretly sent to Mureca.

The day I came back to the Bennett family as the real heiress, Romina, the fake one, looked at me with red-rimmed eyes and said she wanted to give the engagement back to me. "Don't bother. I'm already seeing someone." I rested a hand on my barely noticeable belly and said, half joking, "If you feel that bad about it, how about you just cash me out instead?" The words had barely left my mouth before a few lines of text drifted across my vision. [lmaooo the villainess is still scheming for money at a time like this. can we please skip ahead to the part where the male lead puts her in her place.] [I came for the sweet romance between the lead and the fake heiress heroine, not some side character throwing a fit because she's got a baby bump to wave around] [spoiler from me! the villainess gets thrown out of the family, the lead ends up hating her, and she dies in childbirth. throwing confetti!] I clicked my tongue. How could I possibly cling to a strange man? Then footsteps came from behind me. Romina walked over, crying, and introduced me. "Orlando, this is my sister, Ophelia. The engagement was supposed to be hers." I turned around, and my whole body went rigid. It was the patron who'd kept me for five years, the father of the child I was carrying.

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.

Of the three daughters-in-law in one of New York's oldest and wealthiest families, I was considered the most useless. Vera Hawthorne, married to the eldest Hawthorne son, was a world champion hacker. Catherine Hawthorne, married to the second son, was one of Wall Street's fiercest M&A lawyers. They talked code and securities law. Me? I cared about the latest jewelry on Fifth Avenue and afternoon tea at the Plaza. I couldn't even watch a chef prepare a lobster without getting teary-eyed. Everyone saw me as Arthur Hawthorne's pretty, useless wife. He'd spent five years spoiling me rotten. I didn't mind. All I wanted was a quiet life as Mrs. Hawthorne. What they didn't know was that I wasn't born delicate. I'd just had enough of a life where I woke up reaching for a gun and slept with one eye open, watching for assassins. Five years ago, I faked my death, disbanded my inner circle, and married Arthur, who had no idea who I really was. That worked fine until a fund began aggressively shorting Hawthorne Tech, trying to force Arthur to hand over his quantum chip patents. Vera couldn't trace the offshore accounts. Catherine filed for an emergency restraining order, but someone pulled strings to have it denied. Then gunmen from New York's four crime families stormed into the boardroom. By the time I got there, Arthur had a gun to his head. He refused to sign. They pistol-whipped him until his face was covered in blood, but he never stopped shielding me with his body. "Don't be scared. Close your eyes." I stared at the blood on his face. A laugh escaped me, cold and humorless. They'd beaten my husband like this. How was I supposed to live a quiet life as Mrs. Hawthorne now? I set down the lunch bag, snapped the gunman's wrist, and slammed him onto the conference table. The room went dead silent. I pinned him down with one foot and dialed an encrypted number I hadn't used in five years. "Tell the four families. "The Night Owl is back."

My father, Don Rocco, threw me to the wolves—a sick Wall Street game called the “Zero-Sum Gauntlet.” But when his precious adopted daughter, Scarlett, got rejected by Parsons? He whisked her off to Milan for Fashion Week to cheer her up. She thought she’d won. Rubbed his favoritism in my face. What she doesn’t know? In our family, the ones having fun are the ones we plan to throw away. Everyone says Scarlett is the Bellini family’s little princess. The darling of New York’s underworld. Every year, the family spares no expense on a massive birthday bash for her. And me? The actual daughter? I have to step aside. My father, Rocco, never threw me a party. My birthday gift every year? A new number on the family ledger. Another account to launder. He keeps me in the shadows. Scarlett is the one on his arm. So everyone thinks I’m the outcast. The rumor? That I'm just a decoy. That Scarlett is the true heir, hidden in plain sight. That she’s only a pretty face because I’m in the way. I just traced my finger over the “Zero-Sum Gauntlet” entry form. Said nothing. Why waste time on idiots? I’ve got a game to win. And an empire to claim.

I spent eight years raising Dante's children. Three of them, and every single one belonged to him and his arranged wife Bianca. Not one was mine. I fought against it. I really did. But the Costello family needed heirs, and my background was too ordinary. The family would never accept me. Dante always had something to say about it. "Nora, once Bianca has the baby, I'll take you to the States. You can go to art school, open your own gallery. It's what your mother always wanted, isn't it?" Then Bianca had a son, and suddenly the family needed a daughter too, someone they could marry off to another faction. When the daughter came, the elders stepped in and said the mob was a bloody business and you needed enough children to guarantee the line would continue. Eight years. I went from Dante's lover to something worse than a servant. Then I got pregnant. I was so happy I could barely breathe when I told him. I thought this baby would finally be our way out. But there was no smile on his face. Just a look that was pained and apologetic, like he already knew what he was going to say. "Nora, you don't have a place in this family. Neither does your child. He'd disrupt the line of succession. We can't let him be born." I pressed my hand to my stomach, just barely starting to show. Hot tears hit the floor. Fine. If we couldn't leave together, I would leave alone.

I was the daughter of a mafia Don. The day I met Ethan, he fell for me at first sight. When I found a receipt from a luxury boutique in his pocket, he said, "It's a gift for another capo's wife. These things have to be done right." I believed him. The second time, I found an earring in his car that wasn't mine. His friend told me it belonged to his girlfriend and that I shouldn't read too much into it. Then came a third time, and a fourth. Every time I found something, someone had an explanation ready. By the tenth time, I pulled a box of condoms from under the bed and waved it at him. "Whose are these? We've never used this brand." Ethan paused halfway through knotting his tie. With a weary sigh, he made a call. "Miller, did you take a box of condoms the last time you stayed over?" On the other end, my brother answered right away. "Yeah, I was wondering where those went. Sorry about that. Is my sister suspicious of you again?" Then my sister-in-law, who was also my best friend, started lecturing me. "Michelle, trust is the foundation of any relationship. You can't keep doubting Ethan." "If you can't manage that, then don't get married. Don't take Ethan's love for granted." After the call ended, Ethan spread his hands. "Michelle, are we done here? This is the tenth time. Like your sister-in-law said, if you can't trust me, then don't—" I nodded. "Exactly. Let's not get married." Ethan never could have guessed that the condoms weren't anyone else's. I had bought them myself and planted them there on purpose. That single box of condoms exposed the ugly truth behind our so-called love.

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 day before Valentine's Day, I handed my leave request to my fiancé and boss, Daniel Harrison. We were supposed to get married at City Hall on Valentine's Day. He glanced at it, set it down on his desk, and did not sign. "Megan already booked her flight to Miami, and the hotel is non-refundable. I need you to cover for her for a few days. I am going to Miami to meet some clients anyway, so I will keep an eye on her while I am there." He looked up at me and softened his tone slightly, like he was trying to soothe me. "Getting married can wait until I get back. A few more days will not make a difference." His voice was casual, as if he were arranging something he already knew I would accept. Megan stood beside him and lowered her head. "I am so sorry, Alessandra. I did not realize your plans were that important." Then she added, "Daniel said you would understand. You always put the company first." She leaned slightly toward Daniel. The colleagues at their desks looked down at their screens. No one said a word. I watched Daniel. He was already scrolling through his phone, checking flight details. He did not look at me again. He did not know that the Valentine's Day we had agreed on was the deadline set by the De Luca family. If I was not married by the end of February, I would have to go back and accept the marriage they had arranged for me. I did not argue. I took off my badge and signed the resignation letter. Then I picked up my phone and called my grandfather, Enzo De Luca. "Grandfather, I give up. I will accept the marriage."

Everyone in the underworld knows that Alessio Muratori is a womanizer through and through. Yet, I love him more than anything in the world. Therefore, it isn't surprising that everyone expects me to cry and crawl back to him when I threaten a divorce after he brings home his mistress. When Alessio signs the divorce papers without so much as flinching, he lets out a mocking laugh. "So, what is it you want this time? Cash? That beach house?" Neither. This time, I move to a new city, change my name, and start a brand-new life. Three years later, I see him again at a club. With a champagne flute in hand, I calmly nod at him in acknowledgment. He's caught off guard for a second. Eventually, he approaches me and stuffs an embossed room key card into my hand. "You've finally gotten over it. Are you here to win me back? Just wait for me in my suite tonight." Unfazed, I turn him down. "I'm afraid I won't be there. If my husband finds out, he's probably not going to let you off the hook." After all, my husband, Luca Lombardo, has been on his case for three years. The goal is to bring him to justice.

I used to think that what Derek Shelby and I had could survive any test of trust. Then an ambush at the docks nearly wiped out the Shelby family. Vincent Shelby, the old Don, survived an assassination attempt but was left in a coma. Everyone said I was the one who'd leaked Vincent's whereabouts. So the night before our wedding, Derek himself dragged me out of the fitting room in my wedding dress and forced me to my knees. His eyes were bloodshot as he demanded, "Sylvia Loren, I offered to make you the Donna. Why did you betray the Shelby family?" I tried desperately to explain, but he didn't believe a word. For the next ten years, he kept me alive but trapped in his territory, punishing me relentlessly. Then Vincent woke from his coma, and everyone waited for him to condemn me himself. But he struggled to grab Derek's hand and said hoarsely, "Where's Sylvia? She didn't betray the Shelby family. "Back then, she risked her life to warn me there was a mole in the family. "If it weren't for her, I would've died on those docks!" Derek froze. The color slowly drained from his face. Only three months earlier, he'd casually handed me over to the most vicious fighter in the underground ring.

　　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?"

After the engagement dinner, my grandmother was hauled down to the family's dungeons. The order was given by Serena, who handled the finances for my husband-to-be, Vincent, the heir to the Moretti family. Vincent himself led her down, refusing to hear a word of explanation. "The late Don's wife's diamond cross is missing. Your grandmother was the only guest not part of the family. If she didn't take it, who did?" Serena stood at the top of the stairs, her arrogant gaze sweeping over my face. It was laughable. Based on nothing but Serena's word, they could lock an old woman away. "She stays down there for every day the cross is missing. But that's one thing, our wedding is another. We're still on for next month." I glanced down at the diamond ring on my finger, engraved with the family crest. Exhaustion washed over me. This whole marriage felt meaningless.

In my past life, the Vitale crime family finally claimed me. But my own brother—the family heir—framed me. To protect his precious adopted sister, he accused me of causing her heart attack. My real parents believed him. They dragged me out and dumped me at the iron gates of the family estate. "You're a monster. You don't deserve the Vitale name." Soon after, a rival family tracked me down. I bled out on the cold asphalt. When I opened my eyes, I was back. Back to the exact night that sealed my fate. Nico blocked the current Don, Vincent. He pressed a gun to my forehead. "Father, she's not my sister! She's an imposter!" Disappointment and disgust flashed in their eyes before they turned their backs, disappearing into the dark. I stood in the pouring rain, gripping the family crest pendant—the only proof of my bloodline. Those foolish hopes for family love froze completely in that moment. I didn't argue. I didn't look back. I just vanished into the rainy night. Ten years later, I became the most mysterious surgeon in the North American underworld. Code name: Dawn. Now, the man sitting across from me is Nico Vitale—the family's new Underboss. His hands tremble as he slides a file across my desk. His voice is hoarse. "Doctor, please... you have to save my sister." I stop when I see the name: Isabella Vitale. I look up at his face. Bloodshot eyes. His old arrogance completely gone. I stare at him for a long, long time. Long enough to push down the bloody memories. Finally, I speak. "Your sister... I'm not saving her."

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?"

The first thing I did when I woke up in this life? I called my underboss and ordered fifty crates of the new Colt revolvers delivered to the estate. Let me rewind. In my past life, my stepmother Veronica and my fiancé Marco were sleeping together. She got pregnant with his bastard. To keep my father, Don Salvatore, from finding out, she deliberately sabotaged a family weapons deal. She let a rival crew intercept the shipment and used the chaos to lose the baby. Then she came home crying to the Don. "It's all Irene's fault. She was too greedy, too reckless. She insisted on that unsafe sea route. I was ambushed, I lost the child... our heir..." I tried to defend myself. But Marco stepped up and pointed right at me. "Irene Moretti, I am beyond disappointed in you. You've always been reckless, never caring who gets caught in the crossfire. But this, making your own mother miscarry just to chase a win? That's monstrous. I'm done with you. The engagement is over." My father lost it. In front of the entire family, he lashed me with a whip, a dozen strokes. Afterward, Veronica sweet‑talked him into shipping me off to marry into our rival family. They locked me in their basement and tortured me until I died. Only after death did I learn the truth: Marco was Veronica's lover all along. He only agreed to marry me so they'd have cover to meet in plain sight. Now I open my eyes. And I'm back. The very day Veronica "lost" her baby. Not this time, sweetheart. Not. This. Time.

I grew up fatherless, clawing my way through the Chicago underbelly with my mom. She always said he loved us. That he just had to go far, far away. Until she got terminally ill. I dropped out of design school and rushed back, ready to drain our life savings to treat her. But she put a pair of scissors to her own throat. She told me not to touch the cash. It was the only thing she had to leave me. I pretended to agree. But the second I turned around, I took our fifty grand and ran to Mr. Sal, the neighborhood's back-alley doctor. I begged him to save her. "Fifty grand? This buys her three months. Tops." He lit a cigarette. Through the smoke, his eyes bored into me. Like he was looking at a ghost. "Your mother... she was once the brightest jewel in Chicago. Gave it all up for a man. That man took her money and became the city's real estate king. He's Mob-connected. Maybe you should go ask him for help." I took that poison home with me. And I didn't breathe a word. When she found out I spent the money, she held me and cried. "My foolish girl, why are you so stubborn? I'm dying anyway. What about your school? How will you pay for it?" But while I took care of her, I tore through all her old things, looking for proof of that bastard's betrayal. On the night of his empire's 20th-anniversary gala, I crashed his party. I brought two things: a blood-stained marriage certificate, and a lawyer. "I'm looking for Nico Russo. He can either honor a twenty-year-old marriage... or he can sign these divorce papers."

The Mafia circle in New York City was a tangled web, where power shifted in the blink of an eye. The Dusk family, once a powerful force in the underworld, was now reduced to nothing more than a pawn in the game. Their only hope for survival was to marry off their daughters, securing the support they so desperately needed. I, Seraphina Dusk, was sadly one of those daughters. In my past life, I had managed to secure myself a powerful marriage. I married Silas Vane, the head of the most influential mafia family in the country. My sister, Lila, was less fortunate, ending up with Jaxon Westmore—whom she believed would save her. I gave Silas a son and a daughter, and in return, my family was gifted wealth and power. But my sister? She was not so lucky. Jaxon wasn’t the man she thought he was. Instead of honoring the marriage or alliance, he squandered his time on models and strippers, leaving Lila discarded by both him and our father. One seemingly ordinary day, Lila invited me to lunch—never did I expect that she would kill me, drove a knife into my heart. Then she killed herself. And now here I was, reborn, back when our father first told us that Lila and I have to marry for the family. And this time, Lila called her shots on Silas Vane. That’s when I knew. She was reborn as well. Let her have him, then. She had no idea what kind of man he really was.

I sold my brand-new 300,000-dollar Bentley for cheap at a price of 30,000. Everyone thought I had gone crazy, but no one knew I had been reborn. In my last life, my mafia boyfriend, Clay Colton's childhood friend, Wendy Jeffords, was heavily pregnant when she experienced pain during the family's gathering. She grabbed my hand as tears streamed down her face. "Ciara, I'm begging you. I'm going into labor. Please take me to the hospital." I was in a panic, and I quickly drove her to the hospital in my new car. However, the baby suffocated from its umbilical cord wrapped around its neck, and the doctor was unable to save it despite doing his best. After Wendy was discharged, she came crying at my company's door while holding up a sign that read, 'Ciara Snow is a murderer! She killed my baby when she drove dangerously!' She told everyone she met that the ride in my car had been too bumpy, and it caused the umbilical cord to strangle her baby. Someone posted a clip of her online, and it trended right away. My pictures, house address, and phone number were revealed on the internet, and many strangers started cursing at me on my social media. I was fired by my company, and people started throwing rubbish at my door. My parents were too afraid of leaving the house due to harassment. My boyfriend, Clay, did not speak up for me when he was interviewed by the media and instead said, "Ciara loved showing off her new luxury car, and she only has herself to blame for everything that has happened." In the end, I jumped off a building. However, when I opened my eyes, I had returned to the day of the family gathering. Wendy was hugging her belly and looking pale as she approached me. "Ciara, I think I'm in labor. Please drive me to the hospital!"

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."