Mafia Face Slapping-Kurzgeschichten & -Kurzromane

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

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

In my first life, I pulled Dante Romano from the Hudson. My father rewarded me with a slap. Carlo said no respectable man would marry a Bellini daughter found soaked beside a stranger after midnight. When the Romano family came looking for Dante’s rescuer, he locked me away and presented my half sister, Bianca, in my place. Bianca took Dante’s gratitude. Carlo sold me into a brutal marriage. When I threatened to expose them, Bianca poisoned me. I woke beside the Hudson on the same winter night. This time, I saved Dante and took the obsidian crest from his neck. Carlo still silenced me. Bianca still drugged me and stole the crest. By the next afternoon, she had my proof, my father’s oath, and every Bellini guard behind her. She thought history was repeating itself. She was wrong. The crest wasn’t the only thing I had brought back from the Hudson. And when Dante discovered the rest, Bianca and Carlo would lose everything.

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

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

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

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

My little sister was murdered by her kidnappers. I watched it all happen and never said a word about who did it. My mother got on her knees and begged me. I didn't flinch. When my father threatened me with his authority as the Don, I walked away from my place as the Family heir. I moved to a small town down south. Eight years later, I was dying of a terminal illness, and my older sister, Beth Turner, had taken over the Family. Under her, the Turners had become the most powerful mafia family on the East Coast. The first thing she did when she found me was have me dragged back to the Family's tribunal. "Selena Turner, you ungrateful snake. Mia called you her sister for all those years, and you still won't name the kidnapper. "Mia's been dead for years. Don't you feel any guilt at all?!" I was on my knees in the great hall. I couldn't speak. "After all these years, I can finally extract your memories. Today, I'm going to see exactly who you've been protecting. I will avenge Mia." She ordered her men to restrain me and hook up the extractor. On the screen above the banquet hall, a face suddenly appeared. The room erupted into chaos, and Beth's face went deathly pale.

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

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

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

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

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

For five years, I believed my husband was a mechanic—until the day that belief shattered. On a luxury yacht, I saw him standing there with our son and my best friend, the three of them together like a picture-perfect family. That was when I learned he was the heir to a mafia family. My best friend was his fiancée. And my son called her Mom. I thought that was the worst betrayal I'd ever know. I was wrong. My best friend faked my son's kidnapping, forced me to my knees in a warehouse, and sprayed chemicals on my right hand, trying to destroy the hand I used to design. I left, burning with hatred, and boarded a flight to Milan. When we crossed paths again, my ex-husband begged for forgiveness, drowning in regret. I turned and walked away. Some wounds cut too deep to ever heal. And I would never beg for anyone's love again.

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

The night before our engagement, my best man Reese suggested we play Never Have I Ever — our version, where you name something you have that you think no one else does, and anyone who doesn't have it puts a finger down. "Sitting in this room is someone I can't have," he said. Everyone else's fingers went down, except Reese's and my fiancée Molly's. The others erupted in whistles and teasing, not caring that I was right there. "I have the most loyal fiancé," Molly said. "Boring and dull." Everyone glanced at me, and the private room fell into an awkward silence. I was suddenly exhausted. Molly and I had been together for two years. Tomorrow was our engagement party, yet she'd just publicly admitted there was someone she wanted but couldn't have. And in her eyes, the only redeeming quality her fiancé had was loyalty. When my turn came, I said calmly, "I have a grand wedding of the century." I turned to Molly beside me. "But as of now, it's canceled."

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

It happened on the last shipment run I ever went on. My boyfriend and my best friend left me behind at the transfer station. I waited there for half an hour before they remembered they were one person short. Lawson called me, impatience all over his voice. "Why didn't you get in the truck?" "We're in a hurry for the celebration dinner tonight. We can't turn around." "Stop making a scene. Figure it out yourself." My mouth opened. No sound came out. Beth's voice carried through the line, clear and grating. "We're all adults here. Why does every little thing have to be handled for her?" "She has to grow up sometime." I listened to all of it and hung up without a word. The old me would have apologized on the spot, then done everything I could to catch up with them without causing a single problem. But this time, it all just felt pointless. I canceled every arrangement the family had made for me. I sent my mother a message: [I want to go to Northbay and take over the family business there.] They had always looked down on Northbay for being too small. But I had always wanted to go. I would never have to chase after them again. I would follow only myself.

After I gave myself the last dose of painkiller, I stood outside the hotel all afternoon in the vintage couture gown Lucian had chosen for me himself. The black Bentley motorcade that was supposed to come for the bride never arrived. What I heard instead was the chatter of people passing by. "Did you hear? The youngest Don in New York is getting married. He and the bride have been together ten years." That stopped me, because Lucian and I had only been together seven. "They say he bought a blue diamond, the only one of its kind in the world, just to set it in her ring. He's proposing at the church today." The moment I pushed open the church doors, Lucian looked straight at me. "Cassie, I knew you'd come. Ten years ago you lost Elena, the true blood of this Family, and left her to be ground down at the bottom of the world. You had the safety and glory of the Family name while she endured ten years of hell. I let you believe in that engagement for exactly this day. I want you to feel what it's like to be thrown away by everyone." Three people I knew better than anyone sat in the front pew. Marcus spoke first. "You took the life that was supposed to be Elena's. She's back, so it goes back to her. You owe her that." My heart felt like a cold gun barrel was pressed against it. I couldn't get air. Nobody knew that a month ago I had been diagnosed with end-stage neurological failure, and that I had one day left. For my last hours all I had wanted was to hold the hand of the man I loved, with my family around me. I walked out of the church calmly and dropped the keepsake he had given me into a trash can. But now I'd changed my mind. I wasn't going to spend my last day intruding on any of them.

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