Melodramatic 短篇故事與 Mafia Family Emotions 小說

from her. Again. The heavy iron gates of the Bellini estate were locked tight. Without Luca's permission, she couldn't take a single step outside. "Last month you snuck into underground bars twice. You ditched your bodyguards on your motorcycle, and then you got caught up in a shootout at the docks." Luca stood in front of her, his disappointment impossible to miss. "Isabella, when are you going to settle down ?" "Then how am I any different from a prisoner you keep locked up on your estate?" "If you didn't keep risking your life, I wouldn't have to rein you in at every turn. You're my wife. As Mrs. Bellini, you represent this family. You're not some ordinary woman who can come and go as she pleases." "I just want to be myself. I don't want to spend my whole life locked in the safe little cage you built for me." "You can be Mrs. Bellini, or someone else can." After that, she gave up allthing. She stopped going out alone with a gun, and she stopped talking back to the Bellini elders in public. That lasted until the night of a grand banquet for both families. A woman she had never seen before was wearing the emerald necklace Isabella's late mother had left behind, and she viciously mocked the dead woman in front of everyone. Isabella raised her hand and slapped the woman across the face. Her father, Antonio Moretti, say the woman's name in a low, heavy voice. "Viola.She's my daughter too." Luca walked over to Isabella and took the gun off her hip himself. "I should have kept my wife in line." Five years of dating, three years of marriage. She had filed down every sharp edge for him. She get one offhand remark: "I should have kept her in line." Isabella turned and ran out of the glittering banquet hall. Ten minutes later, she was ambushed at the street corner. She reached for her hip on instinct. But her fingers found only an empty holster. When she opened her eyes again, she had been reborn.Back to the time before she married Luca.

"I'm scheduling the C-section for tomorrow. The doctor will extract her bone marrow during the procedure." Those were the words that shattered Selena's world. Her husband, Ellis Winston, the most ruthless Mafia Don in New York, was going to force her to deliver their baby at twenty-seven weeks. To him, her pregnant body was just a blood farm to cure Jennifer, the manipulative half-sister who supposedly saved his life. So, Selena ran. She left behind a pool of blood, a crushed ultrasound photo, and a destroyed wedding ring. The world thought she was dead. Six years later, Ellis is a walking corpse. He rules the global underworld, but he is tormented by the ghost of the wife he pushed to the grave. During his company's grand anniversary banquet, the heavy ballroom doors burst open. Selena is back. But she isn't the weak, obedient housewife in a cheap housewife anymore. She is the untouchable heiress of the Merrick billionaire empire. She strides down the red carpet, a signed divorce agreement in hand, ready to crush the man who ruined her. Ellis refuses to let her go. He is willing to go to war with Wall Street to drag her back. But what will the arrogant Don do when he comes face-to-face with a genius six-year-old boy who looks exactly like him? He will pay any price to win her back. Even if it costs him his empire, his organs, and his life.

I’d been dead a month before my family even noticed. It wasn’t concern that brought them to that realization. It was my silence after the so-called “dinner” with Adam Rossi, the infamous mafia boss. My father scoffed like always,“She probably shacked up with that bastard. Too busy spreading her legs to pick up the damn phone.” My sister texted me a photo of them smiling under the Christmas tree, ornaments twinkling like nothing was wrong. Bitch, she wrote. You better talk Mr. Rossi into working with Dad, or you might as well be dead already. And my mother—once the softer one—was now colder than the frost on their windows. “I told you, we should’ve sent Gia to charm Mr. Rossi. Serena always screws things up.” They didn’t think I would die. Not until they found my body—broken, rotten, and forgotten—in Adam Rossi’s basement.

I've been married to Elliot Graves, the mafia drug lord in NYC, for the past eight years. But today—on our wedding anniversary—I received a photo of him with my best friend, Lila, celebrating as if they were the ones married. And in her arms was my son, Owen. I stared at the image, then typed out two words in reply. “How perfect.” Half a hour later, Elliot stormed through the front door. His voice thundered through the hallway. “Why do you always have to be so bitchy to Lila?” Owen, my own little boy, shoved at my leg and glared. “Bad Momma,” he said. “I wish Miss Lila was my real mommy.” I didn’t flinch. I simply walked over to the drawer, pulled out the crisp stack of papers I’d long prepared, and dropped them on the table with a quiet finality. “Alright,” I said, my voice calm. “It’s all my fault. Now, can I go?”