Plot Twists 단편 소설 & Mafia Family Emotions 소설

I've always been lucky. I grew up in foster care, but every family I was placed with was either rich or powerful. Later, two of the wealthiest families around even took me in, both convinced I was their biological daughter. The first was the Kennedy family, an old aristocratic house. Their fake daughter, Sophia Kennedy, was an expert at framing people. Whenever she accused me of something, I'd happily take the blame, but my new parents never believed I'd done it. In the end, I got all the designer goods and even a share of the family profits. The second was the Percival family, a financial dynasty. Their fake daughter, Scarlett Percival, was a master at playing the victim. She played the victim, and I gave it right back. Somehow, every new piece of evidence ended up proving me right. My new parents felt so guilty that they gave me a trust fund and property after property. Two families claimed me as their long-lost daughter, and both times, I walked away unscathed. The two fake heiresses, however, ended up disgraced and ruined. The third time, a DNA test finally revealed the truth: I was the long-lost daughter of Don Bertoni. On my first night at the estate, Jennifer Bertoni—the girl who'd been living in my place for eighteen years—clutched her chest and collapsed at my feet, her face deathly pale. "Sis, I was born with an irregular heartbeat. I could drop dead at any moment." "I've been living your life, and that's on me. If you blame me for it, I'll go and die right now." My birth mother wrapped her arms protectively around Jennifer and glared at me. My brother, Adrian Bertoni, slammed his fist down on the coffee table, his eyes cold and vicious. "Jennifer's been sick her whole life. Can't you cut her some slack?" Even Bryce Sedgwick, the arms dealer I was engaged to, turned cold. "Upset Jennifer again, and the Bertonis can forget about this month's weapons deal. Consider it canceled." I crouched beside her and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Don't be sill

The Ivanovas and the Vitales are well-known aristocratic families who have maintained everlasting friendship through generations. My name is Anastasia Ivanova. I have been the daughter of the Ivanovas for twenty years, only to discover just now that I was switched at birth. When I was swept out of the Ivanova’s mansion like rubbish, Lorenzo, the youngest son of the Vitale family, firmly picked me up in spite of all objections. Lorenzo always acted cold and distant toward me. I didn’t know why he came to take me into his car at that time. He whispered in my ear again and again, ‌"I’ve wanted you for a long time."‌ He pinned me against the leather seat, making me cry until my voice was hoarse. At that moment, I finally understood his coldness over the years was not indifference but restraint. Soon after, Lorenzo overrode all objections to marry me. His parents were vehemently against me, but Lorenzo directly stripped them of power and became the youngest godfather. Scarlett Montgomery tried to stop us from getting married, but Lorenzo canceled all her credit cards and threatened to send her away. I thought we would have a happy life. Three days before our wedding ceremony, he planned to send me abroad, claiming enemies might retaliate. But, I accidentally overheard him talking to Scarlett in the hallway at night. "Thank goodness. You tricked her into leaving until after I give birth. You’re so good to me!"‌ He kissed her cheek, ‌"I don’t want Anastasia know our affair. You must keep it secret."‌ Their dialogue made me devastated. But I didn’t confront him immediately. Instead, I quietly completed my immigration paperwork as a way to make a clean break with him.

I was Liliana Moretti, daughter of one of Black Harbor's mafia families. I had always been gentle, soft-spoken, and afraid of almost everything. I would not even touch a gun. My sister was the exact opposite. Alessandra Moretti was everything I wasn't—smart, capable, bloodthirsty, and ruthless. Once she drew a gun, she never missed. Every mafia family in Black Harbor feared Alessandra. At 22, she took 12 men and seized back Pier Seven, a territory half the city had been fighting over. Three years later, our family's territory had doubled. Even our father knew when to shut up around her. One look from Alessandra was enough. Then she died. Four years later, my father's illegitimate daughter, Gianna Russo, moved into Alessandra's rooms and began taking what was mine. My two daughters had been killed. My father was already forcing me to give up my charity fund, my seat on the family council, and the east-wing suite. My husband, Vincent Bellini, didn't care. There was nothing left for me in that house. Alessandra's portrait was gone from the wall. Gianna sat in her chair, dressed in my daughters' favorite color. Tomorrow, she would officially become a Moretti. My father wanted everything I owned. My brother, Luca Moretti, accused me of betraying the peace Alessandra had died for. And when I finally found evidence about my daughters' deaths, Vincent looked at it and put my phone away. When I had lost all hope, Alessandra came back.

After I discovered that my Mafia husband, Don Dante Amato, still couldn't let go of his first love, Bianca, and the son she had with another man, I taught our son to call him "Don Amato." When our son came down with a fever, Bianca called my husband away in the middle of the night. I stroked his burning forehead and taught him to say, "Goodbye, Don Amato." Dante had promised to present our son to the whole Amato Family at a family dinner — to formally announce him as the future heir. Yet on the night of the dinner, Bianca called, crying that her own son had no father by his side. Dante left without a second thought. I didn't argue. I just had our son stand in front of the entire Family and explain, "Don Amato has someone more important to take care of." It wasn't until Dante finally realized how disappointed we were in him that he suggested we take a family portrait together. Outside the photo studio, Bianca called again, crying for Dante's help. "Dante, the kids at daycare are making fun of Gabe for not having a dad. Can you come pick him up and pretend to be his father?" Dante looked conflicted. He turned to our son, as if about to explain everything. But this time, our son didn't need my reminder. He waved Dante off. "It's okay, Don Amato. Go take care of the other child. Mom and I will manage the family photo just fine."

I was supposed to stand beside my fiancé, Marco Bellini, at the charity gala. Both our families had assumed for years that we would marry. This was my first time attending their most formal social event as his future wife. But 20 minutes before the gala, my father suddenly changed the plan. "Sophia Ricci will stand beside Marco tonight. The foundation is honoring her father, Lorenzo Ricci, so she should be the one to welcome the guests." I turned to Marco. "You agree with this?" After a moment, he said, "It's one night. Don't make such a big deal out of it." And just like that, the guest list I'd spent two weeks preparing went to Sophia. Once the gala began, an older guest who hadn't seen us in years smiled at them. "So the Bellini family and the Moretti family are finally getting these two engaged?" Everyone laughed. I stood a few steps away, looking only at Marco. All he had to say was, "You've got the wrong idea." But first he looked at Sophia. She looked uncomfortable, so he smiled and changed the subject. "Tonight is about the foundation. Let's leave our private lives out of it." He never explained who I was. And he never came back to my side. Three days later, I became the Ferraro family's only outside partner on their West Coast project. I was done with the rest of them.

After class, my half sister sent a driver to pick me up for the family dinner. But he parked outside the estate of the Besa family, the most dangerous mafia clan in England. My half sister, Sophie Hawthorne, was practically dripping with smugness on the other end. "Got you! The driver's gone. Let's see how you get out of this one!" I stood frozen. My father sighed on the other end of the line. "You fell for a trick that simple? You're a disgrace to the Hawthorne blood in your veins!" My stepmother laughed. "How can you be this stupid? Find your own way out. We have a dinner to attend." Shaking with fear, I sank to the ground and, with my last shred of hope, called my fiance, Ethan Mercer. The call connected, but it was Sophie's voice that answered. "Iris, Mom and Dad said you have to come back on your own. No cheating!" Ethan took the phone. His tone was breezy. "Come on. Don't disappoint your sister after all the thought she put into this. Good luck." The line went dead. Before, I would have cried and called them over and over until someone agreed to come get me. But this time, staring at the forest stretching endlessly before me, I was just tired. Sophie loved her pranks, and the whole family played along. Last year, she kissed my fiance in front of everyone at my engagement party. Last month, she swapped my heart medication for sugar pills and landed me in the ICU. This time, they all knew the Besa family' reputation for cruelty, yet they still helped her dump me on their doorstep. I spotted the red glow of a surveillance camera in the distance. I knew there was no escaping. I wiped my tears and stood up. I walked toward the Besa estate. If my own family wouldn't have me, I would find one that would.

Don Ettore Vitale's lover, Viola Serra, and I are abducted at the same time. When it's time for Ettore to make his choice, he doesn't hesitate to choose Viola despite always doting on me all the time. "Larissa, Viola can't take this. She's too fragile. Once this is over, I'll definitely make it up to you." "If you choose her, I'll hate you forever!" He remains silent for a moment before whisking Viola away in his arms. I just keep laughing till tears spill down my cheeks. Some time later, I nestle into Ettore's arch-nemesis, Vittorio Romano's arms while smiling at the former. But he keeps begging me to return to him like an absolute lunatic.

My boyfriend had a border collie named Milo that he treated like his own child. No matter how broke we were, Milo never went without. We waited outside the warehouse club for its 10 p.m. bread markdowns, then bought Milo fresh seafood flown in that morning. We worked until conjunctivitis left our eyes bloodshot and still didn't dare take a day off, all so we could send Milo to a summer camp that cost more than three thousand dollars. I always thought Lucian simply loved animals too much, that people could tough it out but Milo shouldn't have to suffer. Until the Calloway heir threw a lavish banquet in the north end of town for his beloved pet's birthday. I snuck in hoping to take home some food for Milo, only to discover that the host was my boyfriend, Lucian Calloway, and the birthday pet was Milo. A single napkin at their table was worth more than my entire year's salary. A guest tossing off a casual compliment about how silky the coat looked walked away with a generous reward. That was when it hit me: with a snap of his fingers, Lucian could have paid to treat the stomach and eye problems I'd developed from overwork. And there I was, the fool who'd hidden my medical reports to save money, gutting it out year after year. Maybe in his mind, spending money on strangers and the dog was a better investment than spending it on me. So it was time for me to leave. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in a long time. "The marriage alliance with the Bennetts. I accept."

Nico Romano told me he had no choice. After his brother Enzo died, the Varrone family needed a new Don—and Enzo’s widow, Serena, needed a child to secure the bloodline. So Nico went to her bed again and again. Every time he came back to me, he carried her perfume on his skin and the same gentle lie in his mouth. “Just wait a little longer, Valentina. Once Serena gives birth to the heir, I’ll give you and Luca everything you deserve.” So I waited. For six months, I watched the man I loved become another woman’s husband in every way that mattered. I watched my son fall asleep by the window, waiting for a father who always promised to come home and always found a reason not to. Then Serena was declared pregnant. The entire Varrone family celebrated as if a miracle had happened. Nico’s mother announced that Serena’s child would be the rightful heir, while my son would be introduced to the world as an orphan Nico had taken in. “No one can know the Don has an illegitimate child with a nobody,” she said. My son’s little hand trembled in mine. “Mommy,” Luca whispered, looking at Nico, “am I not Papa’s child?” Nico heard him. He saw the tears in his son’s eyes. But Serena held his arm, and Nico said nothing. That was the moment I stopped waiting. I took off the ring Nico had given me seven years ago and placed it in Serena’s hand. “Congratulations,” I said. “You belong in this family far more than I ever did.” Then I took my son—and the child Nico did not yet know I carried—and walked out of the Varrone mansion for the last time. They all thought I was a nameless woman with nowhere to go. They didn’t know my father was the most feared man in Italy’s underworld. And I was his only heir.

The night Victor Ferrante, heir to the Ferrante family, brought the management agreement to our house, he didn't speak to my father first. Instead, he smiled at me, over in the corner. "Don Romano, how nice of you to let your idiot daughter stay and witness this." I was the youngest daughter of the Romano family, and the most famous good-for-nothing in the mafia world. I'd been slow ever since I was a kid. You had to call my name three times before I'd look up. My brother, Adrian Romano, took over the casino at 18. My sister, Valeria Romano, was running our family's foundation by 20. I couldn't even remember what the different-colored poker chips were worth. My father tried every doctor and priest he could find. After more than a decade, the whole family finally accepted that I would never get better. But it wasn't that I couldn't speak. I didn't want to. In my last life, I reviewed contracts for crime families. Trusts, inheritance, management agreements. I'd seen plenty of takeovers dressed up to look respectable. In this life, I just wanted to stay quiet. Until tonight. Our seat on the Committee had been frozen, our casino license suspended. All our banks had pulled their support at once. My brother couldn't find a way out, and Lorenzo Bassi, the advisor we'd trusted for ten years, had already been bought off. He urged my father to sign, playing the loyal advisor. "Don, sign it. At least the Romano family will still have a seat on the Committee tomorrow." My father picked up the pen with a shaking hand. I couldn't stand listening anymore. I was done pretending. As my family stared in shock, I walked over and turned to page three. "The main agreement says this is temporary. But the attachment gives the Ferrante family a way to take our seat for good. Sign this, and we'll never get it back." I looked at Lorenzo. "How much did the Ferrante family pay you to put a takeover agreement in front of my father?"

Dad had 22 sons before he finally got me, a daughter at last. He was so thrilled that he replaced our century-old crest of two lions with a lily. I grew up surrounded by doting older brothers. But not one of them had a clue about girls. So when my brother Anthony Gambino brought Elena Bellini home from Milan, I was delighted. When we first met, she stroked my hair and promised to have afternoon tea with me every day. Anthony said she was the love of his life. When Dad saw how much I liked her, he approved the marriage on the spot. But the day after the wedding, she cornered me in the glass greenhouse at the back of the estate. "You stupid little girl. Did you really think I came here to be your playmate? "My husband controls shipping operations at every port in North America. One day, he'll have the final say in this family. "In two weeks, I'll have him send you to Mexico to marry a drug lord. "The only girl the Gambino family treasures will be my daughter." I stared at her smug smile, stunned. Does she really think Anthony got control of our shipping operations all by himself? Years ago, Dad had asked me which brother I liked best. I'd pointed to Anthony without giving it much thought. Dad had put him in charge of the organization's books right then and there. If his wife wanted to make my life miserable, I'd just have Dad pick a different heir.

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."

My husband Julian Mercer had been gone from Seattle for nearly a year, following his ex-girlfriend and first love's family across Europe while her father was treated. When he came back, he made me breakfast, waited for me after work, showed off our relationship in public, and took care of everything, as though nothing had happened. But I kept pulling away. Friends asked why I wouldn't give us another chance. For me, love had no room for cracks. During the days when his indecision left me neglected and hurt, what we had between us had already begun to fade. What no one else knew was that we'd had a child. When my accident happened, he was still busy taking care of his ex. I lost the baby. But when I set the divorce papers in front of him, he fought to keep me like a man losing his mind.

Rumor had spread through the Vittori family that the daughter they had lost years ago had finally been found. The moment I heard, I left the family branch and rushed back to the main estate. My car had barely stopped when a young woman hurried over and grabbed my hand. “So you’re the Vittori family’s adopted daughter,” she said with a smile that looked painfully sincere. “Your dress is so beautiful. It must cost tens of thousands of dollars. You can tell you’ve never really had to worry about anything before. Unlike me. I grew up in places where even finding my next meal was a problem.” For a second, I didn’t understand what she meant. Then her eyes lowered to the only necklace around her neck. “This is the only thing I have from Mother,” she whispered. “Please don’t hate me for wearing it.” The next second, she suddenly grabbed my hand, dragged it up toward her throat, and yanked hard. The necklace snapped. Pearls scattered across the marble floor. “Why would you do that?” she cried, staring at me in shock. “If you hate seeing Mother’s gift on me, I’ll take it off right now. I won’t stay and make things difficult for you. Just please don’t tell Father and Mother. I don’t want them caught in the middle, and I don’t want this family fighting because of me.” She curled into herself on the marble floor, shaking as she cried, while the guests around us immediately turned to stare. I stood there completely stunned. I had imagined a thousand ways I might meet my daughter again. I never imagined she would look me in the eye, mistake me for someone else, and frame me before I had even spoken. Because I was not Valentina. I was her mother.

My boyfriend, Miles, finally invited me to his family’s Christmas dinner. I passed out on the way there. Half-conscious, I heard him whisper, “Sorry, Eva. Those thugs said you’re just their boss’s type. Too pretty for your own good, babe. Blame that—not me.” “Don’t be scared. If you help me pay off the debt… maybe they’ll let me have you back. I’ll make it up to you. For the rest of your life, I swear.” He wheeled me through the back of a casino. My family’s casino. The boss he was selling me to… was my brother. Ever since our parents died in a crossfire, my brother had taken full responsibility for me. More than a brother, he’d become a father figure—a protector. My stupid boyfriend should be scared—he had no idea how fiercely my brother protected me, or how ruthless he could be to anyone who dared hurt me.

My mom, Serena Brunetti, is the most hopelessly lovesick side character in a romance novel. She's the daughter of the Don of the Brunetti family, for crying out loud. But she rejected the match her family arranged and insisted on marrying my dad, John Carter, instead. I call him Trash Dad. He's a freeloader who lives off her money and keeps his first love on the side. The result? Seven miscarriages, all deliberately caused. Yet she's so sweet and clueless that she thinks they happened because her body is too weak. She even feels as if she let Trash Dad down. And me? I'm the poor little soul who tried to be born seven times in a row and never made it out of heaven. On my eighth try, even my angel couldn't stand to watch anymore and personally escorted me into the world. Before leaving, the angel even gave me a max-level Baby Talk buff. I was all set to live my best life, adored and spoiled rotten. Instead, Trash Dad walked up to Mom's hospital bed with a smile, carrying some random baby boy. "You did so well, honey. Look, this is our precious son, the first in line to inherit from your dad." Meanwhile, I'd been stuffed into a filthy biohazard bin, and I was about to be tossed into an incinerator and burned to ash! I panicked and started cursing in my head. Lovesick Mom, wake up! That's Trash Dad's son with his side piece. I'm your real daughter. Come save me! Mom, who had been leaning against Trash Dad and gazing at him like a lovesick puppy, suddenly shivered.

When I heard that my father and my husband, Luca Santangelo, had been ambushed and killed in Sicily, I was preparing Thanksgiving dinner with the other women of the Valenti family. The bodyguard who brought the news was soaked in blood. "The Don's been killed, and Mr. Santangelo's been shot dead! Marco and Nico fought their way out with their men, but Moretti's people are still hunting them!" The words were barely out of his mouth when a shrieking alarm tore through the night. More than a dozen SUVs blocked every exit, and masked gunmen pounded on the gates. Outside, the men were jeering. "Before dawn, we drag every last one of them to the Moretti dungeon. Torture them first, then wait for the final negotiation!" Without a word, Nonna ordered the safe room locked from the inside. Then she handed out cyanide capsules, one by one. She said, "The men of this family died in a firefight. The women of this family will never be taken hostage, tortured, and used as bargaining chips." Before long, dozens of women around me had stopped breathing. I drew the pistol Luca had given me as a token of his love, aimed it at my chest, and pulled the trigger without hesitation. As blood spread across my dress, I heard our own men snickering over a walkie-talkie outside the door. "The Don and his sons spoil Miss Bianca too much. They put on this whole show for an adopted daughter." Another one snorted. "Scare Millie for one night, and she won't dare bring up divorce again. Mr. Santangelo can show up tomorrow morning with flowers, sweet-talk her, and that'll be that. It's not like she'd actually kill herself." I stared blankly at the ceiling. The ambush was fake. Their deaths in battle were fake. Even the so-called sworn enemies outside the door were fake. But the dozens of loved ones lying lifeless around me were real. The warm blood pouring from my chest was real. And the estate, which would never see dawn, was real too.

Days before our wedding, Adrian Vitale fastened the Vitale family's emerald necklace, passed down for three generations, around my sister's neck. He was the new Don of the Vitale family, one of New York's Mafia families. I was the Moretti daughter he was supposed to marry. The necklace had always gone to the woman the Vitale family recognized as its Donna. Adrian had promised to fasten it around my neck himself at our wedding. "I lost to your sister at cards last night, so the necklace is hers." My sister, Vivian Moretti, bumped Adrian's arm playfully. "You're really giving me your family heirloom? Aren't you worried my little sister will be mad?" Adrian gave her an indulgent look. "It's just a necklace. I can buy another one. It's not every day you're this happy." I touched my bare neck. "But you said that necklace would only ever go to your wife." My voice came out rough. My parents' faces darkened. "It's just a necklace. You've been giving things up to your sister since you were little. What's one more? Don't throw a tantrum right before the wedding." They always said my sister was better than me, and good things were wasted on anyone but her. I'd had to give her the pretty dresses, the toys I loved, even my rare chances to travel. I'd thought Adrian would be the one person who'd choose me and keep choosing me. But now even the heirloom necklace that marked a woman as his family's Donna had been handed to my sister like it was nothing. Their smiles made my eyes sting, but a strange calm was slowly settling over me. I looked up at Adrian. "Since you've given her the necklace, she can have my fiancé too."

On the day I signed the divorce papers, I was ordered to leave with nothing. When I walked out of the Crane estate, I had twenty-six dollars in my wallet and nowhere safe to go. My phone was nearly dead when a message from an old classmate appeared on the screen, linking to a discreet placement notice. 【Seeking a live-in maternal figure for three children. Room, board, salary, and protection provided.】 I stopped at the word protection. A roof, a meal, and a place the Cranes could not reach me were already more than I had that night. The address led me to the iron gates of an old mansion on Chicago’s Gold Coast. Only after the butler opened the door did I learn who had placed the notice. Dante Bellandi. The Don of Chicago’s oldest Italian crime family. I had only wanted a place to stay. Somehow, I became the legal mother of the three Bellandi children and the contract wife of Dante Bellandi himself. Later, my ex-husband, Sebastian Crane, stood before me with the same careless arrogance and asked, “Do you realize you were wrong now?” Before I could answer, the triplets stepped in front of me. Little Livia clung to my leg, her eyes red. “My mom wasn’t wrong!” Her two brothers stood on either side of her, staring Sebastian down. Dante placed one hand at my waist, his voice calm enough to make the air turn cold. “Mr. Crane, my wife owes no explanation to a man who lost the right to speak to her.”

For my grandmother's birthday, I took her downtown to Carlucci Jewelers, the finest jewelry store in the city, to pick up the emerald necklace we had ordered. The saleswoman had barely set it out when a woman dripping with jewelry snatched it off the counter. "They're letting slum rats into the VIP room now? I want that necklace. Throw them out!" For my grandmother's sake, I forced myself to keep my temper. "We already paid the deposit on that necklace. Please put it down." The woman gave me a contemptuous look and tossed it back onto the table. "So what if you paid a deposit? This store doesn't sell custom jewelry to gutter trash who can't even afford Hermès!" I'd been away for six months, and apparently one of my family's businesses had a new policy. I asked the saleswoman beside me about it, but she looked terrified and didn't dare say a word. The woman admired her nails, pleased with herself. "Let me make this clear. Luca, the man behind this store, is my husband! "In here, what I say is Sicilian law!" My grandmother and I both froze, then looked at each other. When did my cousin get engaged? And when had he handed the family's money-laundering operation over to a woman like this? I'd entrusted it to him. My grandmother gave a cold laugh and slowly turned the crucifix over in her fingers. "If Luca can't keep his own woman in line, we'll put someone else in charge."