Mafia Face Slapping Short Stories & Novels

Just because I post one picture with my younger brother, Lucas Gambino, his girlfriend Betty Gotti decides I'm the other woman. She rolls up to my place with her crew, live‑streaming the whole thing while they tear it apart. "Look at this puttana trying to steal my man!" Betty shouts to the camera. "She's got the face to flirt, but not the spine to admit it! Give me ideas, chat—I'll teach her some respect." Those psychos destroyed everything. My jewelry, my designer clothes, my bags… they didn't spare a thing. Not even the ring my parents left me. Then, with the viewers egging her on, Betty crossed the line. She had her girls strip me bare on stream. Her chat was going wild, donations pouring in—until my brother saw it. When Lucas kicked in the door to pull me out, I looked at him through eyes that burned. "Dump the girlfriend," I told him. "Or you can forget about ever being the Don."

On the day I was trying out my wedding gown, a stranger dashed into the VIP room and pushed me hard onto the ground. "I'm the real Mrs. John Curtis. Someone like you, with no money or a strong family behind you, should serve me instead." She looked down on me before kicking my pregnant belly with her sharp heels. The pain blurred my vision and made me break out in a cold sweat. Jolene Nostra crouched next to me and slapped me with the back of her hand. "You were only a jilted lover without wealth or influence, trying to wed into a rich family by getting pregnant." As blood flowed heavily from between my legs, a realization hit me. My fiancé, the person I'd been with for four years, was seeing another woman. "What's this? How dare you give me that look? I could kill you, and nothing would happen to me because I'm Mrs. John Curtis!" As she lunged towards me, I pulled out my phone with trembling hands to call my brother. "Come get me, Anthony. And tell our guys I want the Curtis family gone from South City."

During an argument with my fiancé, he lost his temper and slapped me across the face in front of the entire family and guests. That same day, I called off the engagement and blocked him on every last platform so that he could not reach me. No one could believe it. After all, we grew up together. Everyone knew I had been in love with him since we were kids, and we were supposed to get married right after college. He just stood there, looking lost. "Why, Gia? Over a slap?" I held his gaze. "Sì. Over a slap."

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.

I've always been frail by nature. Taking two consecutive steps can make me gasp for air. If I cough, there's a chance there's blood accompanying it. When I'm seven years old, a homeless man in Bronzeton tries to snatch a half-eaten piece of bread from me. I lie on the ground as I convulse like a dying fish with foam gathering at my mouth. My eyes have rolled to the back of my head as well, as though my seizure is acting up. Thinking that I've gotten infected with some sort of disease, the homeless man is so frightened that he flees from Novarra overnight. When I'm ten years old, a delinquent tries to demand protection money from me. I react by spitting dark blood at his face. The poor guy screams at the top of his lungs as he runs down the street, only to get mistaken as a murderer by a police officer who happens to pass by the area. Since then, everyone avoids me like plague on the street. They aren't scared of me—they are terrified that they might get into trouble because of me. No one knows who my parents are. I've grown up in a rundown motel, and my adoptive mother is a stripper who used to be famous. Whenever she gets drunk, she often tells me, "Your father is a mafia Don." I've always thought that she's just running her mouth purely out of drunkenness. That is, until a black limo stops in front of me on the year I turn 18 years old. Three men clad in black suits get out of the limo. The leader sinks down on one knee right in front of me, his voice quivering as he speaks. "We finally found you, Ms. Salvatore. Your father is Vittorio Salvatore, the Don of one of the biggest mafia families in Novarra." At first, I think this is just a scamming scheme. That is, until I'm taken to the estate located on Lacreth Isle that's six acres wide and sports iron gates with the Salvatore insignia carved into them. On my first day home, the fake heiress, Serena Salvatore, purposefully releases the fearsome family dog in the estate just to intimidate me. That dog keeps barking at me, frightening me to the point that I spit out blood on the spot before collapsing to the ground. My mother, Rosalina Vitelli, almost loses her mind over my collapse. But my older brother, Marco Salvatore, shouts at me angrily instead. "Why are you playing dead? You made Serena cry because of your antics!" His voice is so loud that I feel as though my eardrums are going to burst anytime soon. Even my heart feels as though an invisible hand is gripping it tightly. My eyes roll to the back of my head instantly as my body crashes on the spot. Mamma flies into a rampage and almost beats Marco to death for scaring me. Having witnessed everything, Serena kicks up a fuss by attempting to commit suicide at the estate's clock tower just so she can apologize to me. In order to prove his love to Serena, my fiance, Luca Moretti, drags me forcibly to the top of the clock tower so that Serena can do whatever she wants to me. The thing is, the winds are strong on the top of the clock tower. That's when I accidentally slip and topple over the railing. My parents, who are looking everywhere for me, happen to be around the clock tower when I crash onto the spot near them. This time, my bruised and broken body is completely drenched in blood. Shell-shocked, they remain rooted to the spot as they stare at me in bewilderment. Then, they let out blood-curdling screams.

At my wedding rehearsal dinner, a photo of me and my fiancé’s older brother—naked in bed—was displayed in front of everyone. I said it was a setup. Jason, my soon-to-be husband and the Don of the Vale, said, “I trust you.” He erased the footage—and married me anyway. For two years, he kept me hidden while my stepsister, Nerissa, stood beside him in public. He said it was to protect me—so I believed him. I believed him even when the rumors said he was sleeping with her, even when he introduced her as his Donna… until today, when I found them in bed together. Jason didn’t even stop kissing her when he saw me. “Do you like this anniversary gift, Alina?” That was when I finally understood— Jason had never believed me—and the reason he still married me wasn’t love. It was punishment.

At the auction, Victor raised his paddle and won the twenty-three-carat rough pink diamond. He waved a casual hand. "It's for Lillian." Sitting beside him, I went still, a tremor running through me so faint no one noticed. Only then did he seem to remember me. "Use the leftovers for a pair of earrings," he added, almost as an afterthought. "Give them to Claudia." Later, I followed the family's orders and married him. I became the Donna of the Medici Family. We spent a steady, loveless lifetime together. On my deathbed, Victor held my hand and asked if I had any last wishes. I looked at my jewelry box. The top tray was filled with pieces made from his scraps, the leftovers from every gift he'd ever given Lillian. I drew my last breath without answering. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment the two Families were competing for the Medici Donna's seat. In my previous life, I'd held the Smith & Wesson, fired ten shots, and hit ten bullseyes. The old Don had named me the future Donna of his Family on the spot. This time, I let out a slow breath and pulled the trigger. I missed on purpose.

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.

My husband, Charles Marino, sent me three videos in a row to let me know where he was. One was from the docks, where he was inspecting a shipment. Another showed him stepping off the cargo ship. The last showed him arriving at the casino. Each video showed exactly where he was. My doctor glanced at my phone and smiled. "Your husband really loves you. He checks in with you all the time. If I remember correctly, he took a bullet for you four years ago." "Men like that are rare these days. He'd never cheat on you, and he'd give his life for you." I folded the pregnancy test results and smiled back. "He's just changed. That's all." Four years ago, during a shootout at the docks, Charles took a bullet for me. Everyone else was falling back, but he charged in and shielded me with his body. The bullet went straight through his shoulder, two finger-widths from his heart. That fight cost me the baby I was carrying. That was also when I decided, deep down, that he was the one. But less than a week later, I went to see him at the hospital and caught him in bed with my best friend, Susie Clarke. To win my forgiveness, he begged me and hit himself over and over. His wound tore open, and blood seeped out. Before they rushed him back to the ER, he grabbed my hand and whispered, "I'd give my life for you. Why can't you forgive me this once?" "Without you, I'd rather be dead." In the end, I gave in and forgave him. From then on, he always checked in to tell me where he was. I tucked the test results into my bag and told the doctor, "It wasn't easy for me to get pregnant. I'm going home early to surprise him." I could already picture how excited Charles would be. But the moment I opened the front door, I froze. The room was a mess. It was the same scene I'd walked in on in that hospital room four years ago. Now it was happening all over again, right in front of me.

The day after my sister broke up with her mafia boyfriend, she went off on vacation to clear her head. She swore she'd find a man even better than her ex, and she sent me a whole stack of profiles of good-looking guys. She wanted me to help her pick. I was about to tap the screen when Dante snatched the phone away, his brow furrowing as he let out a soft laugh. "You are my Donna! Don't pick up her bad habits." Before I could get a good look, Dante deleted every last photo. I explained, "She's not really like that. She was with that boyfriend for eight years, and he hurt her too deeply." "She kept him like a treasure. Even I never got to meet him." Dante raised an eyebrow and, a little stiffly, told me, "Tomorrow I'm going to Sicily to handle Family business. You be good and stay home." I nodded and agreed, waiting for him to return. My sister happened to get back from her own trip right around the time he did. The moment she walked in, she couldn't wait to tell me how her ex had come back to propose to her. I smiled and congratulated her. But when she took out the engagement ring, my heart skipped a beat. That morning, I'd just happened to find a matching men's wedding ring inside Dante's suit.

The air in the Parisian haute couture salon smelled like money and fear. I’d waited six months for my wedding dress. Now, it was draped over the shoulders of Sofia Ross—the trending influencer, and my mafia fiancé Vincent Cassio’s god-sister. The salon manager was sweating bullets, his eyes darting between me and the man lounging on the velvet sofa. Vincent Cassio stood up. He adjusted a fold of the diamond-encrusted train on Sofia with a casual flick of his wrist. “Her premiere next week needs a statement piece. She’s borrowing it. Pick something off the rack and stop making a scene.” His tone was flat, final. Under the crystal chandeliers, Sofia admired herself in the full-length mirror, a triumphant smile on her lips. I looked at my reflection in the same mirror, wearing jeans and a soaked trench coat. I looked like a lost tourist. Suddenly, the entire past year of planning felt like a sick joke. I didn’t yell. I just felt cold. Numb. I slipped the five-carat engagement ring off my finger. It hit the glass coffee table with a sharp, final click. “You’re right, Vincent. I don’t need this wedding dress. This wedding… I don’t need it either.”

The day I get shot, my husband's assistant, Rosa Fontana, claims she has a headache. He diverts the medical team treating me to take care of her instead. As I lie there, rapidly losing blood, I have no choice but to beg my husband, Guglielmo Muratori. "Guglielmo, if my life is in danger, my family will never let you get away with this!" During our three years together, I've never told him that my parents are the heads of the most powerful mafia family in Sicaro. They rule the place with an iron fist. Anyone who dares stand against me would, at best, lose their life. At worst, their entire bloodline will be wiped out. Guglielmo simply scoffs. "Anna, do you really think I'd believe something like that? You're just an orphan. I let you stay by my side because I thought you were kind. "But you've been targeting Rosa out of jealousy every chance you get. If she's unwell, makes a mistake at work, and the company loses millions of dollars, will you take responsibility for that?" I reach out and grab his arm, trying to explain. He remains unfazed, leaving me with only one cold sentence. "If your family is so powerful, tell them to save you." Before passing out from blood loss, I decide to send a distress message to Papa. What Guglielmo doesn't know is that the moment that message is sent, neither he nor his family would have any place left in Sicaro.

My husband promised we would spend Thanksgiving with my parents this year. Right before we left, he looked down at his phone and frowned. "Damn it. I forgot to change the delivery address again. Your parents' gift basket went to Cassia's place." I stood in the entryway with my fingers frozen around my scarf. For three years of marriage, Roman DeLuca had never removed Cassia Vail's address from his shopping apps. Whenever I asked him why, he always said the same thing: "Cassia and I grew up together. She’s basically family." The Italian espresso machine I wanted went to her apartment. He said her old machine had broken anyway. The sapphire bracelet for our wedding anniversary was signed for by her. He said asking for it back after she opened it would look petty. The sunflowers and baby's breath he promised me on Valentine's Day ended up in her hands. He said she had already put them in a vase, and he couldn't give me secondhand flowers. This time, I had reminded him for two weeks. The Thanksgiving basket had a low-sugar pumpkin pie, nut-free cookies, and a custom low-sodium turkey roll for my father. I had chosen every item myself. It still went to Cassia. I kept my voice steady. "Drive over and get it back." Roman's face darkened. "She already signed for it. What do you want me to do? We'll pick up wine and pastries on the way. Same thing." "It isn't the same. Get it back." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Elena, can you stop turning every little thing into a family trial? No one makes things awkward like you do." Every time something meant for me ended up with his childhood sweetheart, I asked him to get it back. Every time, I got some version of the same answer. I stopped arguing and watched him slam the door behind him. A few minutes later, I wiped my tears and texted my attorney. [Happy Thanksgiving. Please draft a divorce agreement for me. Thank you.]

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.

My husband, Lucio Moretti, Don of the Moretti family, brought in a girl from the slums and put her in charge of the estate. From that day on, every dollar I spent had to be approved by Gianna. I couldn't even decide to buy a single lipstick, or one dress, on my own. Later, my mother-in-law fell down the stairs on the night before her birthday. I called Gianna right away and demanded 200 grand for the medical bills. But she decided I was lying. "Donna, you really made up a story about your own mother dying just so I'd approve you more money?" Then the call ended. Because Gianna refused to approve the money, my mother-in-law died. And Lucio? He was already having the lawyer draft a waiver for me to sign, a formal release of any claims related to her death. He held a tearful, "guilty" Gianna against him and talked me down like I was being unreasonable. "Gia was only doing her job. Your mother was never healthy anyway. This is mercy." "Be good. Sign it." I went still. He thought it was my mother who died. But it was his.

I get approached for legal representation by my ex-boyfriend, Dante Romano, once I become the most prominent lawyer in the country. I am Dante's secret lover—the woman he could never openly claim—four years ago. I am unable to reveal our relationship, receive a ring, and am forbidden from ever setting foot inside the Romano Famiglia estate. It is because of the century-old tradition governing the Romano Famiglia—only a woman who rolls a 20 on the 20-sided gold die 20 consecutive times can become the Donna of the Romano Famiglia. I try countless times over the course of four years, yet every single roll lands on a "one". I eventually become the laughingstock of the entire eastern side of the country, with them claiming I don't have what it takes to become the Donna. However, the return of my foster sister, Sofia Conti, changes everything. She casually tosses the die and rolls a "20" 20 times in a row, securing her engagement to Dante that same night. It is only later that Dante confesses to me. "I tampered with your golden die so that it would always land on a 'one,' Elena. Sofia comes from an ordinary background and needs a legendary story to earn her place in this world. You understand why I did it, right?" It turns out that four years of my humility, struggles, and being a laughingstock are nothing more than a stepping stone he paves for another woman. I leave Kingsbay and head to Ravenport alone while they celebrate their wedding of the century, starting from scratch as a low-level intern. Four years later, I eventually become a legendary lawyer with an undefeated record. Dante suddenly arrives at my office to plead his case, pushing a half-million-dollar check toward me while saying, "You're the only one who can win this, Elena." I look at him and smile faintly. I then pull open a drawer and place the same 20-sided gold die from years ago right in front of him. "I'll represent you as long as you roll a '20' 20 times in a row."

I'm Isa Borgia, the daughter of the most powerful Don in Corvina. My father worries I'll marry the wrong man on a whim, so he arranges for me to be engaged to Luca, the rising heir of the Marino family. It's an arranged marriage, but that doesn't mean I've lost all my say. The very least I can do is choose a ring I genuinely like. So, I go to the mafia auction. When the diamond ring appears as the final jewel of the night, I lift my paddle. Just before the gavel falls, an arrogant voice comes from behind me. "A country bumpkin like you thinks you can compete with me? Do yourself a favor and leave." The auction hall goes quiet for a few seconds. The only sound comes from the camera shutters clicking around the hall. I turn and see a woman in a gold couture gown. Her mouth curves in a casual smile, as if she owns the place. Before I can say a word, the auctioneer rushes to close the bid.
"Sold! Congratulations to Ms. Sofia Lopez for winning the final lot, the Eternal Star!" My brows pull tight, and a hot spike of anger rises in my chest. "You ended the bidding early! Do you even follow the rules here?" Sofia turns around and gives me a once-over, her gaze sharp as a blade. 
"Rules?" She lets out a cold laugh. "Come on. I'm Luca Marino's favorite godsister. Around here, I make the rules!" I can't help but laugh. What a coincidence. So, she's my fiance's godsister. I pull out my phone and call him. "Luca, your godsister just snatched the engagement ring I picked out. How are you going to handle this?"

At my graduation ball, my boyfriend's childhood friend swapped the certified medical battery on my external cardiac controller for a cheap power bank. Ten percent left. I fumbled for my phone to call 911. Brooke Talbot ripped it out of my hand, folded her arms, and laughed in my face. "Ryan, your little girlfriend puts on a hell of a show. "I'm pre-med. I've never seen a cardiac device like that in my life. That thing's a kid's toy." I watched the charge drop, grabbed my boyfriend's sleeve, and begged. "Call 911. "Last month a bullet tore through my heart. They worked on me for ten hours and I spent days in the ICU. I have to wear this for a month." Ryan hesitated, and the crowd around us drowned him out. "God, she's committed. Shot through the heart? Does she think she's in a mob movie?" "Right? You're jealous Brooke wants one dance with him, and you want to wreck tonight for everybody." Ryan's face went cold again. He stepped back and looked down at me. "You need to quit lying. "Brooke says there's nothing wrong with you. So let's see how far you'll take this." Everything in me went cold. I gritted my teeth and pressed the emergency beacon my father gave me. None of them knew I was the Principessa of the Bellandi family, the largest Cosa Nostra family in North America. And my father isn't a merciful man. Every person in that room was going to pay.

Five years ago, tired of the bloody infighting , I ran away from home and became Matthew’s most capable assistant—and his lover. Using the methods my father had taught me, I helped Matthew rise from an obscure nobody to one of Rome’s most promising business tycoons. He had promised me that once he had secured his position, he would give me the grandest wedding imaginable. Instead, at his celebration banquet, he proudly announced his engagement to Lilith, the mayor’s daughter. My coworkers laughed without restraint. “Eve really thought she was something.” “Matthew was only using her. Does she even know her place? What does she have that could possibly compare to Lilith?” I didn’t cry , I didn’t scream at him or demand an explanation. I simply watched the two of them kiss onstage. Then I smiled and made a phone call. “Father, I think I’m ready to come home.” “You should have come back years ago! You abandoned the Moretti family business just to work as an assistant for some nobody!” It was my father’s voice on the other end. “Come home, my princess.”

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.