เรื่องสั้นและนิยายในฉาก Mafia Feel-Good Story

I'm the only younger sister of Andrei Moretti, the most powerful Don in Sicity. Andrei worries that I'll marry the wrong man, so he calls me back from abroad and arranges a marriage alliance between me and the rising Valdi famiglia. My fiance, Cassian Valdi, is calm, restrained, and exceptionally capable. Rumor has it that he has never had a woman in his life. I'm not a fan of arranged marriages, but since I can't turn this one down, I'm willing to give this marriage a fair chance. So long as he respects me and remains faithful to our marriage, I'll do my best to make our relationship work. Thus, I personally head to Sicity's most renowned cliffside oceanfront estate, Bay of Eternity, to pick out our wedding venue. The estate owner, Matteo Rossi, confirms that the last available slot is still open. He accepts my deposit and is about to have me sign the contract when an arrogant female voice suddenly rings out behind me. "Who does this country bumpkin think she is, attempting to snatch the estate from me? Get the hell out of my face!" Before I can part my lips, Matteo snatches the contract away and eagerly approaches the woman in the haute couture gown. "Congratulations, Signorina Montes! The last available slot at Bay of Eternity is yours." My expression darkens. "You've already accepted my deposit, and I was the one who reserved the slot first." Vera Montes sizes me up, drinking in my activewear before letting out a contemptuous chuckle. "So what? Even though we are not bound by blood, I am still Cassian's godsister, the woman he dotes on most. I'm the law in Sicity!" What a coincidence. Cassian's my fiance. Yet, none of the information I received ever mentioned that he has a sister. Looks like I need to find out what's going on between them before I commit to this marriage. I dial Cassian's number right in front of Vera's face. "A woman who claims to be your sister just stole our wedding venue. How do you intend to handle this?"

My employees host a savage livestream cursing me out as a cold-blooded Scrooge just because I didn't hand out frozen turkeys for Thanksgiving. What the internet didn't know was that our company, rooted in a powerful mafia family, has one, single, unbreakable tradition for every major holiday: ten uncirculated American Eagle gold bullion coins hand-delivered directly from our private vault. No paper trails, no taxes, no exceptions. As the whole internet was calling for my head after watching her livestream, I decided to give them exactly what they wanted. I sent out a company-wide memo: "To honor our cherished holiday traditions, the family gold distribution program will be discontinued this year. In its place, to ensure everyone experiences a traditional Thanksgiving, all employees will receive a complimentary, grocery-tier frozen turkey." The memo dropped. The office exploded. A stampede of my employees swarmed my office door, practically on their knees begging me to bring back the gold.

My family is part of New York's Mafia, and we live by one rule: anyone still unmarried at 30 must accept a match arranged by the family. When I told my boyfriend of ten years, Klaus Brenner, about the rule, he finally agreed to a public engagement. I thought the man who had once taken a beating to protect me was about to become my husband. I thought my life was in my own hands at last. But when it was time for us to kiss at the engagement party, everything changed. In front of every guest, Klaus pulled Linda Moreau, the new designer, into his arms and kissed her without hesitation. Linda blushed bright red. The room erupted. "What kind of backward family in New York still arranges marriages? What century are we in?" He sneered. "Rebecca, I'll marry you someday. But not now, and certainly not because you cornered me into it." I stared at the smug look on his face and felt the last of my love turn cold. I slid the ring off my finger and tossed it to Linda. "Keep it. I don't want him anymore. He's all yours." What he didn't know was that the so-called old rule came from Vittorio Rota, the most ruthless of the five Dons who led New York's Mafia families. And the man I was being forced to marry was Ian Castellano, the heir apparent to New York's underworld.

The Norman family had an unwritten rule. Only the Don's daughter could inherit the family business. As the Don's first adopted daughter, I had the whole family on my shoulders: the docks, the casinos, the arms trade, 72 crews, and more. Too bad I didn't know the first thing about the business. So the Don sent his advisor, Oliver, to handle everything for me. Every gun and drug deal crossed my desk, and none went through until I signed off. But in ten years, I never even opened the books. And the golden lion seal, the symbol of the Norman family's power? I'd press it into wax without a second thought. Over time, I had less and less say in the family. There was even a saying going around the family that the golden lion seal was worth less than a penny in the gutter. I didn't care. I kept doing whatever I wanted. Then Oliver decided to marry Mia Nolan. I was happy for him, and I even gave Mia the family's three most profitable casinos as a gift. But after the wedding, she sold all three of them. And that wasn't all. She wanted to freeze my accounts, and she slapped an asset transfer agreement down on my desk. I stared at the bill and the transfer agreement for a long time before it sank in. She doesn't actually think that just because Oliver has run things for me for ten years, the Norman family belongs to him, does she? I'm the one who renews his appointment as advisor every year with the golden lion seal. If I don't stamp it, he's worth less than a dog.

I was fifteen when the Don of the Volkov family, Hudson Volkov, took me in. To the world, Hudson was a cold-blooded wolf. But with me, he was gentle. Patient. He was my guardian, and the man I’d loved for ten years. I dreamed of being his woman. It took me taking three bullets meant for him for the old man to finally give his blessing. But while I was recovering, Hudson announced he was marrying Bianca, the daughter of a man who’d saved his life. Last time, I threw a fit. I cried and screamed until Hudson gave in. He promised he’d marry me and leave Bianca. But on our wedding day, Bianca was snatched. She called Hudson for help, over and over, but he was at the altar with me. He never picked up. She died. Hudson was torn apart by guilt, and he blamed me. "If it wasn't for your selfish jealousy, Bianca would still be alive!" I open my eyes, and I'm back. It's the day of their engagement party. This time, I just smile. "Congratulations on your wedding, Uncle Hudson." I decided to let him go. To stop fighting for him.

The night before our engagement party, I took two bullets for Don Luca Marchetti and ended up in the hospital. But instead of canceling the party, he went ahead with the ceremony—with another woman. Everyone on the East Coast expected me to lose it. That day, I fought through the pain in my back, slipped into a red dress, and walked into the party. The moment Luca saw me, he pulled his fiancée, Ivy Palmer, behind him. I knew that worried look. I'd worn it countless times whenever I thought he might get hurt. Then, out of nowhere, lines of floating text appeared before my eyes and began scrolling past. "Don't believe it, sweetie! Luca's only pretending he doesn't love you! He's trying to keep you safe!" "Right, you're the heroine of this sweet romance! Luca only loves you!" In my last life, I believed every word of those comments. In the end, the woman by his side shoved me into a fire, and I burned to death as he watched without lifting a finger. This time, I wouldn't be stupid enough to fall for him again. I walked up to him with a faint smile. "Don, I wish you and your Donna a lifetime of happiness together." But after I walked away for good, Luca came crawling back, crying and begging me for another chance.

The first thing I did when I woke up in this life? I called my underboss and ordered fifty crates of the new Colt revolvers delivered to the estate. Let me rewind. In my past life, my stepmother Veronica and my fiancé Marco were sleeping together. She got pregnant with his bastard. To keep my father, Don Salvatore, from finding out, she deliberately sabotaged a family weapons deal. She let a rival crew intercept the shipment and used the chaos to lose the baby. Then she came home crying to the Don. "It's all Irene's fault. She was too greedy, too reckless. She insisted on that unsafe sea route. I was ambushed, I lost the child... our heir..." I tried to defend myself. But Marco stepped up and pointed right at me. "Irene Moretti, I am beyond disappointed in you. You've always been reckless, never caring who gets caught in the crossfire. But this, making your own mother miscarry just to chase a win? That's monstrous. I'm done with you. The engagement is over." My father lost it. In front of the entire family, he lashed me with a whip, a dozen strokes. Afterward, Veronica sweet‑talked him into shipping me off to marry into our rival family. They locked me in their basement and tortured me until I died. Only after death did I learn the truth: Marco was Veronica's lover all along. He only agreed to marry me so they'd have cover to meet in plain sight. Now I open my eyes. And I'm back. The very day Veronica "lost" her baby. Not this time, sweetheart. Not. This. Time.

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."

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 father was one of the first dons to rise out of the Naples mob. My mother was an iron-fisted businesswoman with a reputation that made grown men flinch. When I was ten, somebody had the nerve to hijack one of my father's freight ships. He had the man's arms and legs broken with a crowbar, then stuffed a handful of gold rings down his throat — told him to count his money while he crawled. When I was fifteen, some scheming woman tried to get her claws into my father. My mother hired the filthiest pimps off the docks, shipped her down to a back-alley bar in Marseille, and told her to make her own way. And me — I grew up running the streets of Naples like I owned them. The sons of every other family knew to call me Miss Ferrante and keep their hands to themselves. Then I met him. A rough, quiet man fresh out of the army. For him I put down the knives, traded the silk for plain cotton, and followed him back to that little nothing of a coastal town, Porto Scuro. Today my mother-in-law and my husband went down to the dock warehouses to settle a dispute. They held her face down in a barrel of rotting fish guts. They kicked in three of his ribs. I stared at the salt fish I'd been slicing on the kitchen board, let out a cold laugh, and brought the knife down so hard the oak split in half. Then I dialed my father's private line.

Don Vincent White and I were known as soulmates. Everyone in the city said so. But our wedding never happened. Every time we tried, something got in the way. Bad weather. Scheduling conflicts. Emergencies. Three years ago, Vincent had to leave overseas to handle urgent family business. Before he went, he kissed my forehead and said, "I promise this is the last time. Wait for me." I believed him. So I waited. One thousand, ninety-five days. Ten days ago, he finally came back. I thought the three-year wait was over. I thought we would finally have our wedding. Then last night, I overheard him talking to his underboss, Marco Blue, outside his study. "You're really going to marry Miss Black? What about Vivian and the boy? Luca is over two years old now. He's your own son. This won't stay hidden forever." "Back when Vivian was pregnant, you made up every excuse to delay the wedding. But if Miss Black ever finds out—" Vincent's eyes cut like a blade. "Sophia must never know. My wife will only ever be Sophia. Tell Vivian to watch her mouth and keep that child in line." Luca. Two years old. His own flesh and blood. So while I spent three years waiting for him to come home and marry me, he already had someone else. A child over two years old. I stumbled back to the bedroom. Hands shaking, I called my grandfather. "Grandfather, I'm ready. I'll take your place and become the Donna."

On the night before our engagement party, my fiancé's childhood sweetheart sped through the venue grounds in a luxury car while heartbroken, hit an elderly man, and fled the scene. Ethan immediately postponed the party and took the panicked Mia overseas to help her relax. Before leaving, he transferred five hundred thousand dollars to me. "Five hundred thousand should be enough to buy your father's life. As long as you don't cause trouble for Mia, we'll continue with the celebration after I return." Confused, I looked at my father beside me. The renowned don of the McKenna family was sitting there perfectly unharmed, frowning in dissatisfaction over Ethan's decision to cancel the party without permission. Just then, I received a message from Mia with a video attached. [Ethan found out the person I hit was your father and still chose to protect me and pay for your father's life.] [A nouveau riche's daughter thinks she can marry into the Alvarez family? Take a good look at your father's condition. This is what happens when people like you dare to dream.] I opened the video and widened my eyes in shock. With a malicious smile, Mia slammed on the accelerator, drove over the old man's legs, and sped away. The poor elderly man lying in a pool of blood and groaning in pain was Ethan's father.

I turned down the arranged marriage my parents had set up for me, determined to marry Cassian Russo, all because he had taken a bullet for me during an attack. I thought I had chosen love. I helped him become the Don of Philadelphia, but Cassian always believed I had forced my way into his life because I was the Morettis' only daughter. On our tenth anniversary, I came home with a pregnancy report I had waited ten years for, only to find another woman lying in my bed. The way she stroked her belly said it all: she was carrying his child. Cassian shielded her behind him. "Bianca is carrying a boy. He'll be the heir to the Russo Family. I won't let you hurt her or the baby." I didn't take out the results I had just been given. His brow creased, clearly bracing himself for tears and tantrums, like always. "Don't worry. The title of Donna will always be yours." What he didn't know was that I was done making scenes, and I no longer wanted the title of Donna. The ten-year pact I had with my father had reached its deadline. This time, I was leaving him for good.

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

On my twentieth birthday, my father presented me with courtship gifts from the heirs of allied families. I had grown up with these men, and he told me to choose one to marry. I calmly shook my head and rejected them all. In my previous life, I chose Gabriel, the man I loved the most. Shortly after our wedding, I became pregnant with his child. But from then on, Gabriel became a completely different person. Whenever I handled family business, he publicly dismissed my decisions. Whenever I secured control of crucial West Coast ports, he outright overturned my agreements. Whenever I wanted to promote loyal members, he accused me of being too soft and a poor judge of character. Gradually, everyone began to see me as just a fragile trophy wife who depended on a man. Until one day, I walked in on him drinking and laughing with a few mafia heirs in an exclusive club. "Gabriel took the biggest hit for us. He pretended to like Kiara all these years and had to humor her every day." "It was worth it. Once she got pregnant, she had no energy left to run the family." "Once her sister Mila wins over the capos, the entire family will belong to her." Fueled by despair and anger, I went into premature labor and bled to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of my engagement. My father placed those gifts representing power and marriage in front of me once again. "Have you made up your mind? Which one will you choose?" I looked at the diamond necklaces, custom gown catalogs, and limited-edition perfumes in the boxes, and smiled softly. "None of them." "I heard our business on the West Coast took a hit. I want to go there, expand our territory, and put our family back on top." This time, I will personally take back everything that belongs to me. I just did not expect that Gabriel had returned to the past too.

Three days before my family was due to divide the estate, I came across a post online: "Both my older daughter and my younger daughter are wonderful. How should I split the family assets so it looks fair?" A commenter replied, "Split it evenly, obviously. What is there to agonize over?" I was bored and about to scroll past when I spotted a familiar username. It was my brother's. "If you don't know the real situation, don't hand out advice." "As their older brother, I know how things actually are at home." "Anna never spends money anyway. Give it to her and she'll just let it sit. Annie, on the other hand, has poor health. She can't leave the house without bodyguards, and she needs top doctors on call around the clock. Someone in her situation should get a bigger share." Right below that comment, William chimed in: "Well said." "However Mr. and Mrs. Vittoria decide to divide the estate, the Moretti family will do everything we can to look after Annie and Anna." I read those comments and smiled. Back when we went to banquets together, Annie would tell me that she and the others were headed to the restroom. I'd wait there like a fool, only to learn after the banquet ended that they had all gone home long before. I used to believe that as long as I stayed close behind them, they would never leave me behind. But every time I turned around, they were already gone. Only I was left standing there. Nothing has changed. All they see is what benefits Annie. I was never in the picture. They probably assume I'll keep putting up with it forever. Too bad. This time, I'm done.

For our fifth anniversary, my boyfriend, Caelen Blackwell, flew me—and his mother—to Miami. I thought he was going to propose. Instead, he checked me into the cheapest room of a luxury villa and disappeared. Two days later, I found out he was staying in the private suite with another woman—his mistress, Samatha, the same woman he had just proposed to. When I confronted him, all he said was, “I’d never marry a crippled woman. Look at you, you’ll never be rich, powerful, or beautiful like her.” So I just made one phone call to my father—the most feared mafia boss in Spain—and told him to cut off everything Caelen had been using to build his empire. It’s not like I didn’t know how men like him worked—use a woman up, then toss her aside. I just never thought he would be stupid enough to believe I was the kind of people who could be disrespected or discarded like this.

My bestie got wasted and begged me in tears. "Help me get into Caspian's bed! Please, spend whatever it takes, just get me out of this broke-ass life!" God help me. Caspian was the most ruthless Don in Chicago. I sighed. What could I do? I was her best friend. But I had one rule: never spend a dime more than I have to. The budget was set. The less I spent, the more I pocketed. She gave me $5,000 to buy a dress that would seduce him. I pocketed $4,900. So she wore a dress I made out of flea-market silk scraps. Her pitiful, broke-girl act completely won the Don over. Thrilled, she shoved another $1,000 into my hands to buy top-tier birth control. I skimmed $999 and bought a two-dollar bottle of multivitamins. Clutching that positive pregnancy test, my bestie looked at me like I was God. Later, the Don's ex, Cassandra—pure mafia royalty—came back for blood. Furious, my bestie threw $50,000 at me. "Ruin her! Aria, you're the only one I trust to handle this." But at the family dinner, that bitch struck first. "She hired thugs to attack me in the penthouse! They're hiding inside right now!" Yet, when Caspian kicked the door open. The woman's smug smirk froze. "Freaks... are you fucking freaks?! Who fills a room with life-sized creepy Halloween wax figures?!" ...

Five years ago, the Gotti family, who were on the verge of bankruptcy, managed to rise from the ashes thanks to my investment. Eventually, they develop their company into a firearms company that's well-known in the west, and they earn over hundreds of millions of dollars' worth of profits annually. At the celebratory party, Elena Bellini, the HR manager who has only joined the company for less than a month, shows my photo and my salary. She then berates me for skipping out on work and stealing from the company. "Half a year ago, Valentina went missing for more than a month for no reason! Even when she's needed for work at the company, she's nowhere to be found! "Also, how can a bottom feeder like her afford to spend money at the high-end restaurants and malls?" Elena keeps her head raised high as she looks at me in disdain. "The reason why Valentina has disappeared is so that she can steal expensive items from the company and sell them to other clients! This photo of her stealing a bottle of red wine is the proof! "I strongly suggest that Valentina is to be dismissed on the spot! We can't let her continue breaking the company's rules!" I remain silent as I turn to look at Matteo Gotti, the CEO of the company. He knows that a bunch of robbers had stolen a batch of important products half a year ago. I was the one who had snatched everything back without a weapon under my arsenal, seeing as I had walked past the warehouse by coincidence at that time. Because of that, I ended up getting injured and had to spend a month just to recuperate. Matteo also knows that I've taken the red wine just to entertain the other mafia leaders, who happen to be the company's clients. That red wine isn't for my own consumption at all. But he has the nerve to chuck the folder away angrily before glaring at me coldly, as though I truly am a criminal. "Valentina Caruso, is Elena speaking the truth? You'd better explain yourself right now!" I just sneer at him in return. "I have nothing to say." The frightening reality and the outcome, which is obviously a failure, is the best explanation I've given them.

I was New York’s golden girl, the perfect princess. But for three years, I loved a monster, Don Damien Costello. I finally got the courage to propose. And I found him kissing another woman, Sophia Marcelli, the princess of our rival family. "I'm bored with you, my perfect little doll. I need a real queen. Sophia is the only one fit to be by my side." All of New York was talking. Damien Costello had tossed me aside. So I moved on, Found another man. Left my old self behind. We kissed in a cramped elevator. I did something I'd never dared to do. I just never expected the doors to open. And there he was. My ex. Don Damien. His face was pure murder.