Cerita Pendek Tragic Love & Novel Mafia Marriage

My mafia boyfriend, Silas Vale, didn’t recognize me when I dragged myself back to him after being tortured and shot by his rival gang. He was too busy holding Amy—his childhood sweetheart—in his arms. “Get this woman away from me,” he snapped at his guard. “Amy’s afraid of blood.” I’d lost so much blood I genuinely thought I might die that night. But luckily, a stranger passed by and rushed me to the hospital. When I finally recovered enough to walk, I went home—only to find Silas there, completely unconcerned about the fact that I had disappeared for almost a week. And Amy was there too. Her clothes were scattered across the floor. I didn’t confront Silas or say anything. I just pulled out my phone and called my brother. “You said you are moving to Italy? I’m coming with you.” If Silas couldn’t cherish me the way he was supposed to… then I’d vanish from his world for good this time.

In order to protect me, Don Salvatore deliberately announces that my fiance, Simone Pozzi, is his long-lost son. Simone shakes with excitement when he sees the man in a bespoke suit stepping out of the Rolls-Royce that is parked outside my house. Just as I'm about to tell him it's all a lie, he shoves me aside. He even brushes his sleeves in disgust, as if he has touched something filthy. Simone says, "Stay away from me. Don't let your poverty rub off on me! Since I'm the Don's son, we'll call off our engagement. An illegitimate bastard like you isn't even fit to wipe my shoes!" When I try to explain, he cuts me off by writing out a check and flinging it hard into my face. The sharp edge of the paper slices across my cheek. "Take this one million dollars as our breakup fee and don't bother me again. We're no longer from the same world," Simone says. I watch the check flutter down into the mud and quietly turn off my phone screen. On the screen is a message Papa—Don Salvatore—has just sent me, "Just bear with it a little longer, Principessa. Papa will bring you home soon to take over the famiglia." Simone is so determined to cut himself off completely. He might have the luck to claim a fortune that big, but not the life to enjoy it.

On the first day of my rebirth, I turn straight into the bedroom of Don Raffaele Caruso and begin undoing my clothes. In my previous life, I was in a marriage of convenience with his son, Matteo Caruso, but there was no love between us. We were notorious in Liberty City's mafia circle. Matteo believed I was the reason he lost his first love. He thought I had deliberately gone into his room the night he was drugged with an aphrodisiac, trapping him in a marriage. Hence, for eight years after our wedding, he stayed out drunk every night and refused to come home. Even when I went into obstructed labor and was on the brink of death, he never asked about me even once. Then, the hurricane came. A storm surge swallowed Liberty City. The harbor collapsed under the waves, and there was only one seat left on the evacuation boat. Everyone thought Matteo would keep it for himself. Instead, he shoved me hard onto the boat. "Go! I'm giving you my chance to live, Chiara. If there's a next life, don't come saving me again. I just want to be with Lucia." The next second, his body was dragged into the pitch-black sea. I survived, only to be hacked to death by a rival family afterward. What Matteo never knew was that he wasn't the only one who was drugged that night. His father was too. This time around, I step into the room just as the effects of the aphrodisiac take hold. Raffaele is currently forcing himself to endure it, his control stretched to the limit. I walk over and say softly, "Let me be your antidote, Don Caruso."

Two years ago, I was the Donna of the Costa family. When I was on my way to attend the family meeting, I was killed by my husband's childhood sweetheart, Isabella Rossi. She shattered my limbs and smashed my belly before throwing me into an abandoned mine pit. It was such a shame that I was pregnant with the heir Matteo Costa had been waiting for the past five years when I died. Not only did Isabella frame me for working with the enemy forces, but she also broke her own legs and claimed that she got hurt from stopping me. Matteo publicly announced that he decided to sever all ties with me. He also placed a bounty on my head. Just like that, I fell from my position as the Costa family's Donna to a traitor who was wanted by all. Two years later, the mine pit collapsed on itself. That was when the workers dug out my rotten corpse.

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.

I’m the Blackthorn family’s top surgeon and their “cleaner.” I’ve handled countless messes for Evan Blackthorn. I was also his secret lover for five years. He was inside me more times than I can count, holding me tight as I came apart, kissing me with an obsession for my body he never bothered to hide. It all ended after sex one night, when he said with a casual laugh, “I should get a wife, Rachel.” “And maybe you should find a good man and get married, too.” I wasn’t angry. I just quietly said, “Okay.” In my last life, I insisted on staying by his side. It got me both my hands broken, my career as a surgeon shattered. In the end, during a raid by a rival family, he left me behind as bait, holding his brother’s widow, Sofia, tenderly in his arms. So this time, I learned my lesson. I stayed away from him. Found a new man, just like he wanted. But this time, the always cool and calculated Mafia Don lost his mind.

Five years into my relationship with a Godfather-to-be, I realized Cicio Russo had fallen for someone else. And I decided that the choice should be his. I laid the options right in front of him: break up with me, or send that someone else far away overseas. Cicio Russo stood outside my windows all night, down there with the coldness of the night cutting through him and fogging his breath. By morning, Cicio told me that he'd decided. His choice was me. Or at least - that was what I was made to believe. Surprise came on the very day of our wedding, a strange little boy ran straight down the aisle that was supposed to be mine to walk. “Daddy,” he cried at Cicio and Cicio’s face of stony indifference, “What about me? You have left mommy already. Are you going to abandon me, too?” The ring slipped from Cicio’s hand and hit the carpet with a muted thud. He turned his back on me and walked away without even looking back. I pulled off the white veil. And I snatched the microphone from the host. “If you take one more step,” I screamed into the microphone, “if you leave, I will give all this up. And you, too. Do you hear me? I will give you up.” He froze. For only one second. Then he stepped away anyway.

After my ex-husband, Lucaro Ricci, has died, he turns into a ghost. Since then, he has stayed by my side as a shadow. Three years later, I walk into the church, hand-in-hand with Carlo Altieri, the oldest son of Lucaro's arch-nemesis. Everyone in the city chews me out for betraying Lucaro. Even Lucaro curses me out for being a scumbag. But I'm the only one who knows the actual reason. I've already made a wish to God in the church that I'll sacrifice my life in exchange for Lucaro's second chance in life.

All of Italy knew Kayson Moretti was obsessed with me. He was the untouchable Don of the Moretti family, a man who never lost control in public, yet he broke every rule for me. He declared his love at a gathering of the most powerful mafia families in the country, then bought an entire private island just to build me a glass-domed garden when he proposed. For years, he laid the world at my feet—power, jewels, territory, status. If I wanted something, Kayson didn’t promise it. He made it mine. That was why everyone believed I was the luckiest woman in Italy. They were wrong. Because the same man who swore he would die for me was sleeping with his private secretary behind my back. Worse, he got her pregnant. The day she sent me her ultrasound, their bed photos, and every intimate secret she thought would destroy me, I didn’t cry. I didn’t beg. I didn’t confront him. Instead, I erased every trace I had ever left in his world. My name. My accounts. My records. My past. I staged my death. I let the world believe I had died in a private jet crash.

I married Dario Vellari in place of the true Salvatore heiress. Dario was the only heir of the Vellari Famiglia, the one with the severe PTSD. Five years of marriage. He never slept with me. Then Bianca came home from Boston, the real heiress, and everything changed. In front of her, Dario reined in his temper. The rooms he had never let me enter, the things he had never let me touch - Bianca walked through them as if they were her own. I thought, then, that I was finished caring for Dario. But after I left, he scoured every corner of the northern hemisphere looking for me. Said if the bride wasn’t me, he would never marry at all.

On our seventh wedding anniversary, I found another woman’s lace thong in my bedroom. My husband, Mark Donovan, stood in front of the closet and said coldly, “She’s just a kid, Leslie. Don’t make this ugly.” That “kid” was pregnant with his child. That “kid” had already moved into my home, worn his shirts, slept in my bed, and made him cut down the magnolia tree my dead parents planted for me. Everyone in the Donovan family thought I would scream, cry, and beg. After all, I had loved Mark for nine years. But this time, I only picked up my suitcase. Because they didn’t know one thing. The divorce had already been filed. The Donovan wife’s emerald brooch had already been returned. And the evidence against his precious little mistress had already been delivered to the old Don. Mark thought I was walking out of his mansion. He didn’t know I was walking out of his life. Forever.

Within 30 days, Niccolò Romano and I registered for divorce 18 times. The first time, Niccolò's adopted sister stole my research results, but he hired a lawyer to fight for her. Afterwards, he held me and coaxed, "If something happens to Lia, no one will dare to hire her in the future. I'm just helping her." The second time, while my plane was in distress, he was traveling around the world with Lia. His tone was helpless: "Lia has depended on me since she was little. I only look after her like a younger sister." The last time, Lia was pregnant with a child no one would claim, and he took responsibility for it. Faced with my accusation, he just sighed, a bit tired: "Lia's career is just starting to take off. If someone blackmails her with the child, her life will be ruined." "You're a woman too. Can't you understand?" This time, I didn't cry or make a scene. Instead, I calmly signed my name on the divorce agreement that he had signed in a fit of pique some time ago. Then I called my professor: "I've thought it over. I'm willing to go with you to Iceland to do research."

After being dumped for the 99th time for being a “chatterbox,” I finally met my soulmate, Lysander Thorne. As the Mafia godfather, he was a man of few words, but listened to every single word I said with rapt attention. His proposal shattered the curse that had doomed me to a hundred rejections. But, I discovered a fatal flaw in Lysander after we got married. Whatever he spoke to me, he never exceeded ten words. I thought it was his stoic personality until I gave a hand to a girl being harassed by a thug at the bar. At the police station, the girl asked, “Has your husband not arrived yet? My friend will pick me up and you can leave with us.” The next second, I saw Lysander rushing in, looking utterly disheveled. “Elara Thorne! Why do you stir up trouble on your very first day back home? You've got wings of your own now, haven’t you? Did I ever tell you to stay safe firstly when something happened? Stop being so impulsive!” It turned out Lysander could get emotional. How ridiculous! When Lysander entered, his eyes were solely fixed on Elara. I looked at him with a blank expression, and wordlessly walked out of the police station.

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.

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."

I once risked my life to save Jaxson Rourke on a rainy night. He remembered my face. Yet, when he came to propose, he mistook Elena for me simply because we shared a similar appearance. My stepmother forbade me from revealing the truth. Tragically, Elena was frail and passed away from illness before the wedding. My father couldn't bear to let such immense wealth and status slip away, so he decided to hand the marriage to me instead. He thought that I would surely win the Jaxson’s favor, thinking I closely resembled Elena, enough to replace her. But, my father was wrong. Jaxson only has hatred for me, "You two look so much alike.” He sneered, “Why did she have to be the one who died, and not you?" After the marriage, Jaxson remained indifferent towards me, never believing a word I said. Now, I have been reborn to the time when Jaxson had just gotten engaged…I knelt before my stepmother and pleaded, "To avoid any unexpected trouble, please arrange my marriage as soon as possible.

I married Don Alessandro in secret. The Five Families of Chicago had ruled for generations. And I had married into the most powerful of them. For four years, Alessandro made me promises. One hundred and twelve times. And one hundred and twelve times, he left me standing alone. The first time, his ex‑girlfriend’s father had a heart attack. Alessandro canceled the wedding and stayed with her for three full weeks. The second time, she crashed her Maserati into a fountain in Monaco. Drunk. He flew there overnight and paid off the police chief personally. Every time, right before our wedding, she manufactured another crisis. I begged. I screamed. I put a knife to my own wrist. Alessandro just laughed, pulled the blade from my hand, and fucked me against the nearest wall. “She’s my ex‑girlfriend. You’re my wife. You don't need to be jealous of her.” After the one hundred and twelfth time, I stopped feeling anything. I pushed a piece of agreement in front of him.“Our marriage. Our alliance. Consider it terminated.”

To the world, I’m the wife of Kael Voss. In truth, I’m the daughter of the Grim Reaper. I once defied death to save Kael Voss, the Mafia godfather. After ninety-nine proposals, his persistence melted my heart. I hid my divine heritage, abandoned the Underworld, and became his beloved Donna. After the marriage, he firmly kept his vows, turning our marriage into a fairytale. With our fifth wedding anniversary approaching, I wanted to get him a gift. Instead, I overheard a conversation between him and the maid, Luna. "Honey, your birthday is coming up soon. What gift do you want?" "I want you," Kael replied, his voice dripping with affection. "I want you by my side forever. I need to make sure Iris never finds out about us... and I want you to give me an heir." "Are you sure?" "Positive." Kael’s tone was unwavering. The grin slid off my face the moment I heard the answer and I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The blood drained from my face. The hope I had cherished shattered into dust. The love he had sworn to me had rotted away in just five years, leaving nothing but a hollow shell. If he no longer wanted my heart, I would take it back. The full moon rose in two days. It is time for my return to the Underworld.

In my past life, Killian cut off all his mistresses and spoiled me rotten, doing everything to win my hand in marriage. But the day before our wedding, I overheard him boasting to his friends. "Killian, that orphan girl you supported is still clinging to you. She's younger and prettier than your fiancée. Are you really not tempted?" Killian curled his lip in disdain, "What is she even? She isn't even fit to lick my wife's toes. Tell her to get lost." His words sent a rush of euphoria through me. He had told me himself that financing Vivienne Moore was merely a strategic move to bolster my charity foundation. At that moment, I truly believed I had found my happily ever after. But on the wedding day, the orphan girl drove her car straight into me. She sobbed and pulled out a terminal diagnosis. "Killian, I don't have much time left. I beg you. Don't abandon me, please!" I got injured in a collision and pleaded with Killian to take me to the hospital first, but he scooped her up in his arms without a second glance. "Sierra, I need to take Vivienne abroad for medical treatment. If I were her husband, it would be way easier for me to get stuff done. We have to get a divorce first. I’m sorry.” I stared at him, my eyes widening in sheer shock. He kept going, his voice stead, “I promise I'll come back and marry you in five years. Just wait for me.” Five years turned into ten, and I waited for him in vain, nothing more than a fool. It wasn't until I was on my deathbed that I received his letter, "I'm sorry, Sierra. I'll marry you in the next life." I tore the letter to shreds and died of sheer rage. Yet, when I opened my eyes again, I was back on my wedding day. I calmly gazed after Killian as they faded into the throng. Then, without hesitation, I turned around and boarded a plane to Switzerland.

The second day after I was transferred back to Los Angeles, I ran into someone I used to know on a street corner. She stepped right in front of me, eyes going wide. “Mia? Mia Rossi? Why would you come back now? Dante's marrying Camille at the cathedral in a week.” Dante was my first love, and also the youngest heir to a mafia dynasty on this side of the Atlantic. He'd made me a promise once: that he'd make the entire Moretti family kneel and welcome me in. We had a deal: the day he officially took over as Don would be the day he married me. But his family had other plans. They arranged a match for him: Camille, a princess from one of Sicily's five great families. Pure bloodline, the genuine article. At first, Dante swore up and down she meant nothing to him. Less than nothing. Then I started noticing how he looked at her. Softer every time. Like he was falling. One night, riding home after a shift at the bar, Camille's car came out of nowhere and took me down. The gas tank caught, and half the block reeked of burning rubber and scorched metal. I was pinned under the wreckage, blood seeping from the back of my skull down my neck, warm at first, then cold. Dante was the first one there. He beat the ambulance. The first thing he did was walk past me. He crouched down, lifted Camille out of the passenger seat, and didn't look at me once, just dropped a few words over his shoulder: “I already called an ambulance. Hang tight. Camille's had too much to drink. I need to get her home.” That was the moment I was done with him. Completely, finally done. While he was gone, I discharged myself. I bought the farthest plane ticket I could find that same night and left without looking back. Five years passed. “Mia, you have no idea.” The woman grabbed my wrist, dropping her voice. “Dante spent years turning half of Europe upside down looking for you. You came back at the right time. He still keeps a seat for you every month on his birthday. Camille's too proud for a lot of things,