قصص وروايات قصيرة تضم Mafia وتدور في Fake Death

The day Lily Bianchi returned from abroad, the Don Dario Moretti threw a street race in her honor. She was the woman he valued most. He ordered me to race, even though my old injuries hadn't healed. The wound on my arm tore open, and I lost control of the steering wheel. The car slammed head-on into a boulder. Pain ripped through me. When Dario drove past, he instinctively slowed down for a moment. Lily, riding shotgun, immediately rested a hand on Dario's shoulder. "Dario, why on earth did Lucia crash into the mountainside? Is it because you let me ride with you? She got jealous and hurt herself just to get your attention." Dario scoffed. "Nobody help her. She'll live. "Anyone who takes her to the hospital gets sent to the border for hard labor." With that, he sped off in pursuit of first place without looking back, Lily at his side and dust swirling behind them. He raised Lily's hand in triumph, floored the gas pedal, and crossed the finish line cheering. The drivers behind him glanced over at me. None of them dared disobey Dario's orders. All they could do was slow down when Dario wasn't looking and toss first-aid bandages through my car window. A few of the veteran guards quietly got out of their cars to help stop the bleeding. Their hands were gentle, their eyes full of sympathy. Dario didn't send anyone to take me to the hospital until nightfall. When I woke up, the first thing I did was reach for my phone. Six hours had passed since the accident, but there was only one message from him. "Stop playing dead. Be back by six, or you know what happens." I set the phone down, my throat tight. Dario cared about many things: money, power, Lily. Everything except me. Eventually, I stopped hoping for his love. It wasn't until I died before his eyes that he went mad with regret.

My brother was dying. He needed an operation. So I finally took the deal from my boyfriend's father, the Don. A million dollars to leave Rocco Valeriano, the sole heir to the Valeriano family. It drove Rocco mad. After a family war, he was covered in blood. Refused any treatment. Until his father had no choice but to bring me back. Rocco lay in that hospital bed, a gun to his own head. His eyes were dark with obsession, yet full of love. He threatened desperately, "Ava. Marry me, or I die right here." He forced my hand. He got what he wanted. But on our wedding night, he didn't say a word. He just tore my clothes off and took me with a punishing force. When it was over, he grabbed my chin. He spat, "Gold digger. You'd do anything for money, right? Well, from now on, you get nothing." Five years of marriage. He had mistresses everywhere, all of them dripping in jewels. As for me, I was the Donna in name only. My credit cards were frozen. I needed his approval just to buy a coffee. Then my brother's illness came back. I begged him for a five-grand advance to save his life. I begged him all night at his private club. He gave me ten dollars. And a sneer. He mocked, "A woman who betrayed me for money. This is all you're worth." I clutched that ten-dollar bill and cried next to my brother's corpse until I couldn't breathe. Meanwhile, Rocco was spending a fortune on a birthday party for his new girl. When I woke up, I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I just found him, perfectly calm, and threw the divorce papers in his face. He gave a scornful laugh. He scoffed, "You want a divorce over five grand, Ava? Seriously?"

Papa announces that whoever is accepted into a Rose League university will be named the successor of the Romano family. Papa is already prepared to give me the successor's signet ring when I receive an acceptance letter from Harmond University. However, seconds before he gives the ring to me, a video of me leaking the Romano family's secrets to a rival family plays on the big screen. Overnight, I become a traitor who everyone despises, falling from my position as the favored successor. My fiance, Lorenzo Caruso, steps forward to defend me, but he's rendered speechless by the conclusive evidence. By the time the supervisory committee rushes onto the scene and declares that the surveillance footage and family secrets are fake, Papa has slipped the signet ring onto my stepsister Isabella Romano's finger. "I can't change the successor anymore," Papa says. "The other Dons have already verified the successor's name. Who will listen to my orders in the future if I go back on my decision now?" I leave the estate, clutching the acceptance letter from Harmond University. From that day on, I refuse to pick up Papa's calls. But when I hear about how he has been admitted to the family's private hospital because I've been giving him the cold shoulder, I can't help myself and return home to visit him. As I stand outside his hospital room, I hear my stepmother, Veronica Tonetti, laughing inside. "You're really something else. How did you come up with pretending to be sick to trick Sophia into coming back?" Papa chuckles and says, "Sophia has already been accepted into Harmond University. She has a bright future ahead of her even if she's not the successor. "Isabella's different. She's not going to receive an education from a prestigious school, and she doesn't have her own family. The other families will bully her if I don't name her as the successor of the Romano family." "We have to thank Lorenzo this time," Veronica says with a nod. "If he didn't give Sophia's private key to us, we wouldn't have been able to forge those records of her leaking the family secrets."

Three years ago, during a brutal war with a rival family, my fiancé Warren took a bullet for me. To protect me, he dragged the enemy down a cliff with him. I never found his body—only his blood-soaked suit. On the day of his funeral, I stood in the pouring rain all night, swearing to make our enemies pay in blood. Three years later, I had wiped out every mafia family on the West Coast, becoming the cold-blooded, ruthless Donna everyone feared. On the anniversary of Warren's death, I took my gun to the cliff where he fell. "Warren, I can finally come see you." "Living without you... it's been hell." Just as I pressed the barrel to my temple, the bells of a nearby chapel rang. To my surprise, I saw my top Capos walking inside. Frowning, I quietly followed them in. But standing at the altar, saying his vows, was my "dead" fiancé, Warren. And the woman snuggled in his arms was my own sister, Chloe. Right as the guests erupted in cheers, they shared a deep, passionate kiss. I froze, my blood running cold.

On my mafia husband Ettore Morandi's birthday, I slipped into the hotel where he was staying for a business trip with my pregnancy test results in hand. Five years earlier, when the family business was struggling, Ettore had not even been able to afford a proper wedding. Back then, he had held me in his arms and sworn, "Mirella, as long as I love you, a wedding is just a formality." I had once taken a bullet for him, and that injury had nearly robbed me of my chance to become a mother. But now I was pregnant, and I could not wait to tell him the good news. When I pushed open the doors to the hotel ballroom, however, I found a lavish wedding underway. The bride standing at the end of the aisle was none other than his childhood sweetheart, Viola Bellini, and Ettore was pinning the badge reserved for the Donna of the Morandi family onto her with his own hands. The guests around me murmured among themselves. "Signor Morandi really dotes on his childhood sweetheart. Word is Viola has cancer, and all she wants before the end is a grand wedding." "Ettore dropped almost ten million dollars just to make that wish come true." Five years earlier, he had told me that because he loved me, a wedding was only a formality. Five years later, he had spent nearly ten million dollars giving another woman the wedding I never had. I did not confront him, and I did not tell him I was pregnant. On our wedding anniversary, I staged my own death and let everyone believe that Mirella Santoro and the child she was carrying had perished together at sea.

In the third year of my marriage, Don Scott Cullen's lover, Elena, threw me over the second-floor railing. The fall killed my third unborn child and destroyed my last hope of ever carrying a child to term. She was never punished for any of it. Even though I had just miscarried, I was forced to kneel and scrub her swimming pool. Elena accused me of cutting her finger with broken glass and had me plunged into a tub of ice water as punishment. When my grandmother lay dying, I begged them in the rain, only for the guards to drag me away and dump me across the road. Later, I was kidnapped and called Scott. At a banquet, he had his arm around another woman and scoffed that I was lying to him again. The cruise ship exploded. Seawater flooded my nose and lungs. At last, I was going to die. As I closed my eyes, I seemed to slip into the past. He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind and promised to take me and our baby to an island to bask in the sun. What if he knew this call was the last time I would ever beg him for anything?

I knew Leon Hall was in love with someone else. To protect that woman, he left me behind time and time again. For five years, I loved him. So I endured another woman at the Hall Family's dinner table. I endured her moving through our waterfront estate as if it were hers. And I endured the same excuse every time I objected: "She has no one else." That ended today, the day Leon and I were supposed to go to the county clerk's office for our marriage license. I waited at the county clerk's office all day. I called him ten times. He finally texted two words: "Wait for me." I stayed until the clerk locked the doors for the night. Leon never came. I followed his location to a VIP lounge at a private nightclub owned by the Hall Family. He had Elena Russo cradled against his chest, murmuring to her as if she might shatter in his arms. When he saw me, a flicker of panic crossed Leon's face, but he didn't let go of her. "Elena had a fight with her husband, Damian Russo. She ran out and got drunk. I can't leave her like this." I stared at him. "So you left me waiting at the county clerk's office all day?" Leon frowned, utterly unapologetic. "We can get the license another day. Damian nearly beat her to death tonight. I wasn't going to abandon her." In that moment, I didn't even have the energy to argue. Carrying a relationship alone was exhausting. I was done.

My older sister, Bianca, fled with her lover the night before she was supposed to marry Adrian Vescari. The marriage secured a truce between two Mafia families. If Bianca failed to appear, the Bellandis would lose the Commission’s protection—and might not survive the winter. Because Bianca and I looked almost identical, my father forced me into her wedding dress. Adrian recognized me the moment he lifted my veil. “You’re not Bianca.” I expected him to expose the deception. Instead, he said, “Since you’re already here, stay.” So I stayed for seven years. Adrian protected me, cared for me, and made me believe I was more than Bianca’s replacement. I gave up traveling with my camera and devoted myself to his estate, trusts, and family, waiting for the day I could finally stand beside him under my own name: Mara Bellandi. Then Bianca came home. She claimed she had been forced to flee on the eve of the wedding because someone was trying to kill her, and that she had spent the past seven years in hiding. Adrian believed every word, carried her into our home, stayed at her bedside, and said he owed her everything she had lost. As Bianca began reclaiming her inheritance, her place in the family, and pieces of my marriage, I returned to the Bellandi cemetery. There, I found my own grave. My parents had declared Mara Bellandi dead on the night I married Adrian. While I lived as his wife, the world believed I no longer existed. If everyone needed Mara Bellandi to disappear, I would give them exactly what they wanted. This time, I would arrange my own death. When I woke again, Mrs. Vescari would be gone.

My husband's first love, Daeleen Reed, is abducted and murdered by the Wood family, a mafia family. The final call she makes before her death is to my husband. "Samuel, Louise's green eyes are beautiful. If there is an afterlife, I hope I can have a pair of eyes like that so I can always gaze at you with them." My husband, Samuel Sterling, is the Capo of the Sterling family, a mafia family based on the West Coast. Instead of getting revenge on the Wood family, he comes home and forces me onto an operating table. "Daeleen says she loved your eyes. That was her dying wish, and I will make it come true." I clutch my stomach and grovel at his feet. I beg him to let me off the hook. I've yet to witness our child's birth—I can't lose my eyes! However, Samuel thinks I'm using my pregnancy as an excuse to not give up my eyes. "You can't be so selfish, Louise. You'll only be losing your eyes—you'll be fine." Daeleen is the only one who holds his heart. I am left with nothing but a world of darkness. Later, I drag my broken body into the sea. I forge ahead until I'm submerged. That's when Samuel goes insane.

All of Novatia knew that Sophie Rossi was the foster daughter Soren Lucas doted on the most. However, on her 18th birthday, he punished her according to the family's rules. It was because Soren discovered Sophie had stolen his most precious Browning pistol and inserted it into her body. Three years later, Sophie returned with her body covered in wounds. She no longer loved Soren. However, Soren's fiancée, Isabella Johansson, refused to let her off. "You slut! How dare you desire your own Don?!" Sophie tolerated the cursing and beatings, only to discover the horrible truth. She 'committed suicide' by jumping off the cruise ship during Soren's wedding. Soren went crazy as he hugged her corpse.

I’ve been in love with the Don of the Moretti family for ten years, and everyone knows he loves me more than life itself. In seven days, he’s throwing me a massive, grand wedding that will be live-streamed to the entire world. But I’m the only one who knows the truth: he’s been keeping a mistress behind my back. He’s kept her for two whole years, and he’s lied to my face for just as long. I didn't call him out on it. Instead, I planned a fake death. At our wedding in seven days, he’s going to lose me forever.

My older sister, Jovina Valenti, catches the eye of the cold and ruthless mafia Don, Carlo Laguardia. However, she fears the danger that arises out of his identity and wants to go abroad to pursue a passionate romance. On the day Carlo sends his men to retrieve her, she drugs my drink and sends me to Carlo. After that, she leaves the country and disappears completely. I, Nerissa Valenti, am forced to become Carlo's wife. He treats me as nothing more than a pet. Despite being married, I ignore Carlo's existence and treat him as if he were invisible. He, on the other hand, continues to make me his pet. When he's pleased with me, he shows me affection. But when I upset him, what awaits me is either cold neglect or harsh reproach. After eight years of this, one day, Carlo suddenly orders that I be locked inside the freezing ice house. I tremble from the cold. When I see Jovina at his side, I realize belatedly that she has, for some reason, decided to return to the country. The first thing she does upon her return is seek Carlo out and lie to him that I drugged myself back then to take her place. Consequently, she was heartbroken and decided to go overseas. Jovina stresses that because of my interference, they spent eight long years being apart from each other. From that moment on, there isn't a trace of emotion left in Carlo's eyes when he looks at me. Under the excuse of visiting me, Jovina comes to the ice house and tampers with the settings. She puts the cold air on full blast at the lowest temperature. "Don't blame me for this, Nerissa. As long as you're alive, my lie will be exposed sooner or later," she says ruthlessly. I don't even last half a day before freezing to death miserably. When I open my eyes again, I return to the day Jovina first catches Carlo's attention. This time, I take the initiative to say, "Jovina, go abroad and look for your true love. I'll marry Carlo in your place." This time, the one Carlo loves will be me.

On our seventh wedding anniversary, I made a phone call. "Help me erase every record of who I am. I want to disappear so no one can ever find me." My friend on the other end of the line was stunned. "Vivian, are you sure? You nearly died at your wedding to the Don. And your parents, in that fire... "And all of Chicago knows how much the Don adores you. You've been married for seven years. You're really just going to walk away?" I clenched my fist and took a deep breath. "Yes." "Why?" I looked down. A small bottle of massage oil sat on the desk. For seven years, Vincenzo had Bulgarian white-rose oil flown in every day to soften the burn scars on my body. Every night, he massaged it into my skin himself. But a month ago, the oil that arrived had quietly changed. Now it smelled of daisies. It was another woman's scent. "Because something changed."

Three years into my marriage with Dominick, Gia, his stepsister, sent me a video clip out of nowhere. I tapped on the video, only to find Dominick tying his stepsister to the bedpost with the tie I had given him. His stepsister lay naked under him, addressing him intimately. After getting their freak on, they shared an embrace, and Gia cozied up against Dominick and uttered, “I don’t like the ring you bought me. Give it to Luna, and tell her it’s a birthday gift from me.” The next day, I sat in an upscale restaurant and stared at the vacant seat across the table. Suddenly, the Underboss wheeled a massive cake toward me. “Don Costa was called away on urgent business. He sent me to deliver your birthday gift.” The box contained his stepsister’s discarded reject. My phone buzzed with new pictures from Gia. Dominick was at the hospital with Gia for a check-up. Without a fuss, I signed the divorce papers and made preparations for a wedding. “Donna Costa, whose names should I put down as the bride and groom?” “Dominick and Gia.” A week from now, I would show the world the kind of filth the supposed solemn Don had been rolling in with his stepsister.

Eight months pregnant, a contraction tore through me like a blade. But my husband, the Mafia boss Darren, refused to take me to the hospital. His sister-in-law, Angelina, his late brother's widow, was also due. To ensure she gave birth before me, she produced so-called proof of my infidelity, insisting the child I carried was no true Falcone. Because the heir to the Falcone family had to be the firstborn grandson. Darren believed her. He locked me in an abandoned wine cellar. “Don't think for a second I don't know what you've been up to.” “Let me tell you, you're not giving birth to that bastard until I've verified its bloodline myself.” “Angelina’s boy is of pure blood. I have to make sure her boy is the family's firstborn grandson.” I tried desperately to explain. “My water is about to break! Please, take me to the hospital! He’s your son, I swear on my life!” “I’ll never fight for the position of heir! I just want my baby to be safe!” Darren simply kicked me and shot me a glance. “Who knows if you’ll change your mind later? Don’t worry. I’ll come for you after Angelina gives birth. When the baby is born, I’ll see for myself whose it is.” Later, as he gazed at the crying infant in Angelina's arms, he finally thought of me. But one of his men informed him, his voice trembling: “Boss, the Madam… and the child… they're both dead.”

It's been three years since my marriage to Luca Romano, the Don of the Romano family. We still spend the first night of every year tangled in each other's arms, making love until dawn. But just as the night reaches its climax, an unfamiliar ringtone breaks the silence. Luca pulls away. The warmth beside me slowly fades as I watch him slip into his study. His voice is soft and coaxing as he speaks to the woman on the other end. "Babe, put on that dress. I can't wait to tear it off you." Familiar hunger gleams in his eyes, yet when he looks at me, he merely says apologetically, "Tesoro, something serious came up with the family. I need to take care of it." He leans down to kiss my forehead, but I turn away before he can. Watching him hurry off to another woman, I can no longer hold back my tears. Tonight is the last chance I'm giving him to make things right. But once again, he breaks the promise we made for the sake of another woman. I pick up my phone and call Vesper Group, a company that specializes in faking people's deaths. My birthday celebration is just three days away. In front of everyone, I'll meet my end in a blaze of flames, never looking back.

On my wedding day, my fiancé's first love walked in holding a little boy and named the groom as the child's father. My mother saw it, and her heart gave out. She died right there on the floor. The wedding collapsed and I went down with it, fainting in front of everyone. When I came to, my oldest friend, Lucian Graves, was sitting beside me. He held me tightly in his arms. He took care of all my mother’s funeral arrangements for me. When the reporters swarmed, he put himself between me and the cameras. He cleared my name over the wedding, and then he got down on one knee in front of everyone and asked me to marry him, swearing he would take care of me for the rest of my life. After marriage, we became the happiest couple in our circle. Then, on our first anniversary, I opened the chat history on his phone. "Don, thank God you set up that wedding disruption. My son and I are happy now." "You did get her mother killed, though. Don't blame yourself. She's the one who insisted on marrying a man who was never hers." The replies were from Lucian. "Nothing to blame myself for. It was just an accident." "As long as you're happy, there's nothing I won't do." The ground dropped out from under me, and the phone hit the floor.

At our college graduation, my fiance suddenly proposed to Lillie Stewart, my best friend, in front of everyone. I became a joke in front of everyone. Right after Lillie accepted my fiance’s proposal, Lloyd Becker, heir to the biggest mafia family on the West Coast, publicly said he loved me. Lloyd was known in the mafia world for being serious and never getting involved with women. So, when he showed an interest in an orphan like me, it made the news. We got married, and for five years, he was so sweet and treated me like a princess. But one day, I accidentally overheard him talking to his friend. “Lillie is already set to become the future lady of the Gacira family. Are you really going to keep the act up with Nelly?” “If I can’t have Lillie, it doesn’t matter who I marry. As long as I’m with Nelly, Lillie can live peacefully.” He even gave Lillie the symbol of the Becker family’s lady. He helped Lillie build her career while letting me fade into the background. After five years of marriage, I finally understood. On our fifth anniversary, I pretended to die in a shooting so he could be with the woman he truly loved. But instead of being happy, Lloyd completely broke down.

Everyone knows Francesco Greco, heir to the largest mafia family in Solerio, is a notorious playboy. Yet when he swears to God that he'll love me for the rest of his life, I choose to believe him. He lives up to his words during the first year of our marriage. The Greco heir, whose presence alone terrorizes others, clings to me like a loyal puppy at home. But by the second year, he starts returning home with one lover after another. Rumors of his scandalous affairs spread, and I become the laughingstock of Solerio. On our eighth anniversary, his 99th lover taunts me in front of everyone at dinner. "Don't sleep in the master bedroom tonight," she says. "Mr. Greco and I are going to have some fun there. Also, change the sheets. I can't stand how dirty your things are." Everyone expects me to break down under such humiliation. Instead, I smile and turn on my heel. Then, I dial Madre Greco's number. "Madre, it's been eight years," I say, my voice steady. "It's time for me to leave."

"Take off your clothes. Spread your legs." "...What? Why?" The voice cut through the silence, and my heart seized. I instinctively covered my stomach. It was the first anniversary of my marriage to Alessandro, the Don of the Santoro family. I was pregnant and had wanted to surprise him. But his secretary, Liliana, had blindfolded me and brought me to this unfamiliar place. "Donna, stop playing the victim. Seducing men is your specialty, isn't it?" "Tonight, in this underground auction house, you are the final item on the block." A chill shot down my spine, and my voice trembled. "Are you insane? I'm the Donna of the Santoro family! I'm carrying his heir! Alessandro will kill you..." Liliana scoffed and ripped off my blindfold. Blinding lights bore down on me. I squinted, and gradually, a man sitting in the VIP section came into view... It was Alessandro! I stared in disbelief as he slowly extinguished the cigar in his hand. "Pregnant? Whose bastard are you carrying?" "It's yours!" I cried out. "Liar!" He raised his hand, and a report was tossed at my feet. The bold letters "PROBABILITY OF PATERNITY: 0%" burned my eyes. He came closer and gripped my chin. "Liliana was right. Women like you are rotten to the core." "My love was never enough to satisfy your greed." "And I, Alessandro, will never raise another man's bastard." Later, he finally learned the child was his. For the first time, the man who was always so composed, arrogant, and in control knelt before me, his voice trembling. "Celeste, I'm begging you... even if you can't forgive me, please, let me make it up to you." But I felt nothing for him anymore.