Nouvelles Plot Twists & Romans Mafia Regret

I was Don Victor’s secret wife for five years, hidden away like a dirty little secret. He made me a promise. Give him an heir, and he’d show me to the world. I’d be the Donna everyone envied. But there was a catch. A lie. His doctor told me I was barren. Victor held me while I sobbed, kissing my face. "Baby, we can still do IVF. I want a child from you. Only you." So I took the pain. Five years. 999 needles. I was finally pregnant on Christmas Day. I ran to his office to share the news, only to find him buried deep inside another woman. Julia. A Mafia princess from another family. The betrayal hit me. I turned to leave, tears in my eyes, but then I heard a truth I couldn't escape. "Don't you worry, my princess. The baby in Maria's belly? It's ours. Your egg, my sperm. She’s just the perfect vessel." My hand trembled. I backed away, silent. Then I made a call. A lawyer. "I don't care what it costs. I want a divorce from Don Victor."

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.

My husband, Matteo Bellini, runs New York's underworld. Everyone said I hit the jackpot when he married me. On our wedding night, right after we made love, he brought in Aria. She was a custom-made AI maid worth millions. Matteo said she had the most advanced lie-detector system in the world. One lie, and I would pay. He kissed me. "My mother betrayed my father. He told me women are all liars. I want to believe you're different, but you have to prove it." From that day on, Aria became my living nightmare. Every time she said I was lying, I got punished. Even when I told the absolute truth. It was always hard slaps and the cold water cell. I cried and begged him. I swore I would never betray him. Matteo just looked at me with cold eyes. He said his expensive AI never made mistakes. To him, I was just a liar. Then came the family yacht party in international waters. For once, Matteo brought me and Aria along. I've had severe phobia of water since I was a kid. I stared into the pitch-black ocean. I clutched my aching chest and shook my head in pure terror. Aria pulled up her cold data screen. "The madam is in perfect health. She is only throwing a tantrum." Matteo's face went cold. He grabbed my arm and dragged me to the edge. "Still lying! You're jumping today!" The moment I hit the water, my heart felt like it exploded. The pain tore through me. I couldn't breathe. My vision faded to black, but his voice cut through the wind: "This will teach you the price of lying to me!" Tears of blood rolled down my face. Matteo, I'm dead now. I'll never make you mad again.

On my sweet sixteen, my three brothers came home with a girl named Sylvie. They said I have to treat her like my family. I didn’t think much would change. But years later, everything did. Jace, my youngest brother, shoved me down the stairs for her. Asher—the oldest, who once promised he'd protect me forever—told me to get out. So I left. Quietly. They thought I was just acting out. So they took Sylvie to France, didn't even bothering to check in What they didn’t know was that I’d signed my name on a contract—one that aligned me with our family’s biggest rival by becoming their youngest chemist. Written in black and white, I could never go home again. The night they found out I was really gone for good? They broke. Every last one of them.

I was eighteen when I left Italy for Chicago. My brother Leo handed me over to his most powerful ally for “protection.” Don Damien Volkov. His eyes locked on me the first time we met. They never looked away. By day, I was his private doctor. By night, I was the only thing in his bed. His seduction was a slow, deliberate hunt. The way his body brushed against mine during an exam. A stray kiss that landed behind my ear. The weight of his hand resting on the small of my back. I fell fast and hard for his dark charm. I gave myself to him, letting him claim me, again and again. For four years, our affair was a secret hidden in the shadows. In that time, he sculpted my body, teaching it to crave his touch, molding me into his perfect obsession. Then she came back. Isabella, his exiled ex-fiancée. He sent his private jet for her. I swallowed my pride and crashed his reunion. An hour ago, his hands, still smelling of blood, gripped my chin. He forced his kiss on me. But now, right in front of me, he was stroking another woman's hair. "Elara, you're the one who climbed into my bed four years ago." "You act like a whore, but you expect me to treat you like a Donna?" The way he looked at Isabella was so tender. The way he looked at me was pure scorn. Shame burned through me. Head down, I sent my brother a coded text. Accept the Moretti proposal. I looked up. A smile bloomed on my face. "Fine. Then this is goodbye, Damien."

I had just climbed into the armored SUV leaving the Moretti estate when the gatekeeper hurried after me with a black encrypted phone in his hand. "Mrs. Westmore, Don Moretti asked me to give you this." I took it. One unread message glowed on the screen. [Selena only had a scare. I'll come home tomorrow. Don't overthink it.] I stared at it for two seconds, popped out the SIM card, snapped it in half, and tossed it into the rain outside the window. The next day, I had just reached the abandoned shipyard in North Harbor when encrypted messages started hitting my backup phone one after another. [Vivian, where are you?] [Why aren't you home? Where the hell did you go this late?] [Answer me. Don't make me send men all over the city looking for you.] The last one was exactly his style: soft on the surface, arrogant underneath. [Your family survives under my protection. Don't test my patience.] I didn't answer. After countless messages sank without a reply, my husband finally drove to the old Westmore grounds at North Harbor. He knew that if anything was left of my family, I would be there. But when Damon pushed through the broken iron gate, he found no guards, no household staff, and no Westmore men waiting for orders. The old house stood hollow in the rain. Its windows were blown out, the front steps were black with soot, and the air still carried the bitter smell of smoke and gunpowder. Damon grabbed a passing harbor guard by the sleeve. "Where are the Westmores?" The guard looked at him as if he should already know. "Gone. The family was hit two nights ago. Whoever came for them knew exactly when Moretti protection would be pulled from the harbor." "Miss Westmore came back before dawn," the guard added. "She took the black-gold signet, a few boxes of ledgers, and whatever papers survived the fire." "After that, she left. And no one has seen her since."

Five years ago, on our third anniversary, I rejected Matteo's proposal in front of the entire syndicate. I pointed at my stomach. I sneered at the man who used to worship the ground I walked on: "Don't be naive, Matteo. You're just a stray dog from the gutter. I'm carrying the rival boss's heir." It poured that night. He was shattered. He walked away from everything. Five years later, he climbed over a mountain of bodies. He ruled North America as the new Don. He returned to New York and bought out every single debt my family owed. Then, he brought his pregnant fiancée along and kicked down the rusted door to my run-down apartment. He looked down at me with cold eyes. "What's wrong, Princess? Hiding out in a dump like this now?" He had no idea. My body was already in the final stages of transplant rejection. Every single day I stayed alive was just to see his face one last time before I died.

The moment Victor knelt to propose to me, a stream of floating comments flickered across my vision. [LMAO. The villainess actually thinks the male lead has fallen for her.] [Gotta hand it to the male lead, a truly devoted Don. He's gritting his teeth and marrying the villainess just to protect the heroine.] [I wanna fast-forward to the part where the heroine is safe and the villainess gets dumped by the male lead.] My breath caught hard. Winning Victor 's true love was the mission the system assigned me after I awakened. Ten years since we met. Seven of them I spent chasing him. All this time, I thought he had finally fallen in love with me. I looked down at the seven-carat pink diamond ring in Victor's hand, and my eyes went hot. I closed my eyes and said softly, "Victor, I won't marry you." With that, I turned and walked away. The next second, a sharp system warning blared inside my head. "Host, mission failed. You will be erased in forty-eight hours."

Whenever they played Truth or Dare, my boyfriend's childhood sweetheart, Clara would deliberately dare him to pull the same prank on me, and Ronan would always willingly play along: he would pretend to propose to me. The last time, I fell for it. I joyfully held out my hand, but a mechanism inside the ring snapped shut, and I cried out in pain. Ronan and Clara doubled over with laughter, ignoring my finger, which had been pinched purple. Afterward, Ronan pinned me against the wall and swore that this year, he would give me a real proposal. So when his bodyguards brought me to the private club where we first met, I changed into an expensive white silk gown, styled my hair, and applied my most exquisite makeup. I even played the touching scene out in my head, imagining myself nodding and saying yes. But as I pushed open the door to the VIP room, my heart pounding, someone threw a full glass of deep red wine in my face. It streamed down my chin and onto my gown. A woman's laughter erupted from the crowd. "I told you Aurora would show up, didn't I? Ronan, you lose!" Ronan walked over, looking resigned. He gently dabbed at my face with a napkin, his tone as soft as ever. "Dressed up just for me? A shame to ruin a good dress." "Clara dared me to bet on whether you would have the guts to come to our turf tonight. I bet that you would. The wager was this: if you didn't, I'd propose tomorrow. If you came, we'd have to wait another year." "Sorry, baby. Since you showed up, I guess we can't get married this year." The wine trickled down my collarbone, cold and sticky. I shivered. Suddenly, the whole thing felt utterly pointless. Our anniversary meant nothing compared to one of their pranks. Just like me. I could never win against Clara, his childhood sweetheart. I unclasped the simple silver bracelet, the one I'd worn for six years, from my wrist. "This is over. We're breaking up."

For six years, I used countless offshore trusts and hidden laundering pipelines for Dominic. I turned him from an East Side underboss into the undisputed king of New York's underworld. Then came our wedding anniversary. He got attacked. He woke up remembering nothing about me. I searched frantically for the family doctor to find a cure. That same night, I walked in on him. He had his newly hooked-up art curator, Sienna, pinned against the floor-to-ceiling window, taking her from behind. She moaned breathlessly, begging for power. Dominic gripped her jaw, laughing in her face. "Relax. I put on this trauma amnesia act. I told them my brain got rattled and I only know you as my wife. It gives me an excuse to strip Camilla of her financial power and lend it to you for a few days. She won't even have a reason to throw a fit. Look at her. Didn't she fall for it today?" The next morning at the family round table, he put on his little show without blinking an eye. Right in front of the council, he slammed the table and swore he didn't know me. With his own hands, he ripped the black diamond signet ring of the matriarch off my finger and shoved it onto his new girl's hand. He ordered me out of the inner circle. A room full of armed outlaws waited to laugh at my breakdown. I didn't even twitch an eyebrow. I gave up all my authority on the spot, turned around, and walked downstairs. Dominic assumed I was blind to his game. He still thought I was the obedient tool on call, waiting for him to snap his fingers once his memory came back in a few days to coax me back home. He had no idea. The St. Petersburg godfather pushed a sixty-million-dollar high-purity diamond wash onto us. The drop deadline hits in three days. That lockbox and darknet routing recognize my voiceprint alone. Without me holding the line, those accounts are the death warrant for the entire Corvin family.

During a dinner party hosted by the Cassano crime family, a lace garter stained with dried fluid dropped out of Matthew's pocket. He was the Don's son-in-law. When questioned, Matthew insisted I had tried to seduce him, failed, and planted my own underwear on him as a setup. In my past life, I was just a maid for the Cassano family. Simply because I had a killer body and a pretty face, the hot-tempered mafia princess, Caroline, refused to listen to a word I said. She had me fed alive to a venomous snake. My parents came seeking justice, only to end up at the bottom of the river. In this life, I faced Matthew's setup once again. "She sneaked into my booth and threw herself at me! When I rejected her, she planted this on me to ruin my marriage with Caroline!" But I was no longer a lowly maid. I held a Ph.D. in Economics from Yale and served as the Chief Advisor for the Visconti family, a global mafia empire.

Two days before our wedding, my fiancé called it off for his childhood sweetheart, postponing everything by ten days. He sighed, "Daisy told me that day happens to be her birthday party. It's her first birthday since she lost her husband, so I can't miss it, or she'd be devastated. Elena, we're going to get married. What difference does a week earlier or later make?" This was the third time he had canceled our wedding for Daisy. The first time, Daisy claimed she was suffering from severe depression, and he dropped everything to rush to her side. He stayed with her for a whole week. The second time, Daisy said she wanted to see the northern lights. He was terrified she might travel alone in that fragile state, so he went with her. They were gone for ten days. And now this was the third. But unlike all the other times, I didn't argue with him. I didn't raise my voice or throw a single accusatory word his way. He thought I was a helpless orphan who'd never leave him. He had no idea that I was the princess of Rossi family, a powerful mafia family. To hide my identity and marry a man outside our world, I had made a three‑month wager with my father—a gamble that I could build a normal life and marry on my own terms. But I had lost. My fiancé still thought this was just another postponement. He didn't know that there would be no next time.

"Are you crazy, Donna Gallo?!" The doctor, Corey Dickson, stared at the plastic surgery proposal I had given him. He said in a trembling voice, "Don Gallo would never allow you to do something like this." I smiled softly. "He's too busy having an affair with a world-famous celebrity. He doesn't have time to notice me." Corey was taken aback. I looked at my wedding picture on the wall. Stefan was hugging me while looking at me with great tenderness in his eyes, but just yesterday, I watched him lead that celebrity into our bedroom. He pressed her down in bed as she stared at the silver handgun at the end of the bed and panted, "Aren't you afraid that I was sent here by the enemy to seduce you, Don Gallo? Are you sure you want to put that gun away?" Stefan laughed in a low voice. "It'd be worth it to die in your arms." That gun never left his side. This was the first time he put it aside for someone else. That was when I realized that this was the end of my marriage. It was time for me to leave. I had to find a way to leave this city, where the Don had eyes everywhere, without getting caught.

Ten rounds of IVF. That’s what it took to have a baby with my boyfriend, Cormac Brown, the Godfather. On the tenth try, I finally got pregnant. Triplets. I was crying with joy, about to tell him, when I got a call from a woman claiming to be me from the future. Her voice was hoarse, exhausted. “Don’t have those kids!” “Cormac doesn’t love you. He’ll dump you the second they’re born, and your career will be over!” I thought it was a sick joke. How could Cormac not love me? Until I heard him talking to one of his men. “Godfather, aren’t you worried Miss Victoria will find out you secretly swapped her eggs for Bianca’s?” “And the doctor said her body can’t handle triplets. It could kill her.” Through the crack in the door, I saw Cormac’s face, cold and emotionless. “Her being weak after having triplets is the only way Bianca gets the lead in that Hollywood movie.” “The day Victoria gives birth, I’m proposing to Bianca.” “And Victoria? She’s just the incubator.” Standing outside, I clamped a hand over my mouth, choking back a sob. Once I calmed down, I called my agent. “I’ll take the role. I’ll be at the movie’s press conference in a week.”

Leon Santoro's ex-wife and their daughter pushed me down the stairs. I lost the baby. Leon came to see me in the hospital. He sat beside the bed, his expression as composed as always, and said, "She's a child. She didn't know what she was doing. I'm sorry you had to go through this. I apologize for Rosalie." "That's it?" I asked. "Just an apology?" He turned to look at me. "What else do you want? Money? Stock?" "I can't exactly make Rosalie pay with her life for what happened to your child." Your child. Not our child. So he truly never cared about the baby I was carrying. He'd made a promise to his ex-wife Giselle: Rosalie would be his only child. When I told him I was pregnant, he'd barely reacted. Just a shrug and a flat "I know," like I'd told him the weather. Thinking about it now, I looked at him and asked quietly, "You're relieved, aren't you? Now that the baby's gone."

On the night I married the most powerful mafia boss in New York, he held me close and whispered, "My life is full of blood and violence. To keep you safe, let's keep our marriage a secret, okay?" I was so touched that I nodded. From then on, my husband hid my identity from the world. Down in the streets, nobody in the mob had any idea I was the Don's wife. I never thought his sick "protection" meant cutting me off completely. Four months pregnant and dead broke, I took a low-life gig dealing at an underground casino. That night, pushing a drink cart past the VIP suite, I caught my terrifying mafia husband, Marcello, partying hard with his inner circle. He was lounging lazily on the velvet sofa, casually asking his second-in-command, "I wire half a million dollars to my wife's account every month. Is that still not enough for her to burn through?" The underboss nearly dropped his glass. "Half a million isn't enough? Boss, is she out of her mind? That's a whole year of living expenses for most people!" Marcello's eyes darkened. "She said she was short on cash last night, so I transferred another two hundred thousand right away." "And this morning, she had the nerve to threaten me with a divorce. She said I couldn't afford the life she wants." Standing outside the door, staring at the pathetic $150 balance on my phone, I shook with rage and kicked the suite door wide open. I planted a hard slap right across the ruthless New York mafia boss's face. "Tell me! How many bitches are you actually paying for on the side?!" Marcello frowned. "I have only ever touched you in my life!" I froze completely in my tracks. If he's telling the truth... why is my monthly allowance only a pathetic 150 bucks?

"Consigliere, I want a divorce from Cassius. I’m handing back all the businesses under my name. Draft up the papers." The old Consigliere frowned. "Camilla, this marriage keeps the peace between our two families. Can you think this over?" I was the frontwoman for Cassius Marino’s dirty empire for three years. In the shadows, I was this cold-blooded Don's legal wife. A month ago, a Mexican cartel kidnapped me. That night, the cartels blew up my husband's secure line, demanding a thirty-million-dollar ransom. He let it ring. They ended up throwing me into an abandoned meat locker in freezing temperatures. I almost froze to death. Luckily, a butcher stumbled in and dragged me out just in time. And on that very night, while I was dying, Cassius was in a Vegas penthouse pool... fucking Bianca. The woman who stole my life. Right then, my years of love for him just vanished. This hopeless marriage was a mistake from day one. I finally woke up. And this time, I was ready to vanish from his dark empire for good. "My mind is made up," I gave the old Consigliere a cold nod. "And Cassius won't object." I always knew the truth—my Don husband never loved me for a single second. But I'd looked up to him like a fool since I was a little girl. Three years ago, when he casually asked if I wanted to marry him, I actually cried happy tears and said yes. Soon, the clock would strike midnight. It would be our third anniversary. I had the perfect final gift ready for the almighty Don—a divorce. Freedom for him, and for me.

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."

A week before our family wedding, my fiancé, Matteo, suddenly changed the location to a luxury yacht in Boca Raton. I only found out when the wedding coordinator called me. Over the video call, I heard Matteo's careless voice in the background: "It's just a wedding. It's the same anywhere. Don't bother asking Sienna. She does whatever I say." "Besides, Camilla always dreamed of a fairytale wedding at sea. I'm just making her dream come true. Sienna will understand." Just because his childhood friend, Camilla Moretti, said she liked ocean views, he ruined the wedding I spent months planning. And he didn't even bother to tell me. He knew damn well I nearly drowned as a kid. He knew deep water terrifies me to my very core. Matteo thought I was crazy in love with him. After all, I once took a bullet to the head for him, damaging my vision. He was dead sure I'd back down again and smooth things over with my family. He thought wrong. I'm done taking his garbage. I tore up the wedding contract and walked away without looking back. Screw this wedding. And screw him.

At 4:00 a.m., my husband, Rocco, gently shook me awake. His voice was a low murmur, . "Alessia, my love, could you do something for me?" But his next words shattered the illusion. "Scarlett is hungry. Go make her some seafood soup." Scarlett was our maid, and she was also Rocco's pregnant goomar. "I just had fresh seafood delivered. Get to the kitchen and make her a bowl of soup. Just for Falcone's heir." I refused, my voice cold. His anger flared in an instant. "Don't be so unreasonable, Alessia." "Is it really so hard for you to make some soup?" I shook my head, silent. He stroked my cheek, a patronizing smile playing on his lips. "Fine, Alessia. So you've learned to defy me now." "Think carefully, Alessia. Do you really want to keep your place as a Falcone?" "And your position as the family's lawyer? Think about whether you still want these… then give me your answer." Seeing the arrogance in Rocco's eyes, the last ember of love I had for this man died. I took out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in a long time. "I want out of the Falcone family."