Mafia Regret Short Stories & Novels

I have been able to smell people's emotions since I was a child. Love is sweet, and sadness is bitter. After being with Dante for ten years, the scent on him had always been sweet. Until last month, when my sister Sofia agreed to the arranged marriage with the Colombo family. In that very moment, the scent on him abruptly turned bitter. That night, I heard their suppressed voices: "Sofia, you clearly love me too, so why are you marrying that useless man?" My sister cried back at him: "You are Gia's fiancé, and she is my sister. We cannot continue this mistake." Only then did I realize the truth. My fiancé had been in love with my sister all along. I canceled the engagement party and booked a flight to Sicily in three days. But why was it that only after I left did they both go mad with regret?

The day before the family purge order was issued, I saw my own name on the Bellini family’s internal network. In the field marked Recommended Executor, the name written there was Adrian Bellini. The current Mafia Don. And my fiancé. When I called him, his voice was flat. “Relax, Vivian. Celine submitted the exit request for you. It was just a joke.” “Go explain it to the council yourself. They’ll cancel it.” Celine. The assistant who followed him everywhere, always in expensive little skirts, the one who adjusted his tie for him in public as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I held the phone in my hand, I had nothing left to say. So the place I had nearly killed myself to protect for three years was, to him, nothing more than a joke. I didn’t withdraw anything. I completed the handover as usual. Signed the papers as usual. Left New York as usual. It wasn’t until much later that Adrian finally realized something was wrong and asked me, “Vivian, I told you to get your name taken off the list. Why didn’t you go?” “Why should I?”

Even though I've been in a relationship with Antonio Leone, the Don of the Leone family, for five years now, we have never taken a single photo together. I've tried to share little snippets about our relationship on my social media before. When he finds out, he snatches my phone away and deletes everything at once. At all the fancy parties and events organized by elite society, whenever it's time for the group photo, everyone else pairs up with their loved ones. I'm the only one who stands in the corner all alone. Antonio and I aren't married or even recognized as a couple. He always tells others he's single. We've fought about this many times. He always gives me the same indifferent response. "I'm not an ordinary man. If I expose your existence, you'll be in constant danger. Stop being so unreasonable." My friend, Carlotta Moretti, chides me, "He gives all the best things in life, including money, jewelry, and property. What more do you want? Don't make such a big deal out of the fact that he doesn't take photos with you." My parents also tell me repeatedly, "Don Antonio is the Don of the Leone family. It's your honor that he's willing to keep you by his side. Don't be so petty." As the same scenario plays out time after time, I slowly begin to accept that I will always be forced to hide in the shadows. But on the day of our engagement party, I inadvertently tap into Antonio's encrypted photo album. It's filled with photos of him and his deceased first love, Isabella Bianchi, taken at events and on vacations. So the so-called desire to protect me turns out to be nothing more than an excuse to avoid going public with our relationship. All at once, the acceptance and compromise I've shown over the last five years prove to be utterly meaningless.

The day Guglielmo Raimondi takes over as the Don, I receive a final notice from the hospital because I can no longer afford my dialysis treatments. On the TV, Guglielmo sits at the head of a long table in a black suit. He is giving an interview on a live broadcast. The host asks, "Don Raimondi, if you could say one thing to the person you regret losing most in the past, what would you say?" Guglielmo hesitates for a moment before picking up his phone and making a call. My phone starts vibrating on the hospital bed. I hear him ask, "You left me because you thought I was broke. Do you regret it now?" I look at the enormous bill for my kidney transplant. The fees show a string of zeros I can never afford. "Guglielmo, for old times' sake, can you lend me one million dollars?" The call ends abruptly. On the live broadcast, Guglielmo blocks my number in front of the camera. He says, "I have no regrets anymore." What he doesn't know is that when he was poisoned in the past, his kidneys failed. When he is on the verge of death, I secretly donate one of my kidneys to him.

In my first life, I was finally brought back to the Moretti family as their biological daughter. Then Sofia—the girl they had raised for twenty-six years—died. From that day on, I became the person they blamed. They never threw me out. They simply spent the next ten years making sure I understood that I could have the Moretti name, their blood, and their inheritance—but I would never be the daughter they truly loved. Then our yacht sank. My parents gave me the last life ring. My brother pushed me toward shore until the freezing water took the strength from his body. Before they died, they finally told me the truth. “If we had never brought you back, Sofia would still be alive.” “If there’s a next life, don’t come looking for us again.” I died in that ocean too. When I opened my eyes, I was back seven days before the Moretti family officially recognized me This time, I didn’t go home. I signed the North Star Project agreement instead. In seven days, my identity would be erased from every public system, and I would disappear for at least ten years. My parents were still preparing my recognition banquet. My brother still thought I was only angry. None of them knew I had decided to grant their final wish from our last life. Sofia could remain their only daughter. And I would disappear from their lives completely. Seven days later, a car carrying my identity plunged off a cliff. By midnight, the news was everywhere. Dr. Elena Hale was presumed dead.

During the thirty years I was Eric's mate, he was recognized throughout the pack as the perfect partner. It wasn't until a shewolf appeared at his funeral with a will that everything came undone. "Eric left a will before he died. Everything under his name belongs to me!" Her voice was shrill, and her eyes were filled with jealousy as she glared at me. "He forbade me from appearing in front of you while he was alive. "But so what? He gave his entire inheritance to me! I'm the one he truly loved!" Every word of the will was filled with Eric's deep remorse and desire to make amends to the shewolf. It was as if the thirty years we had spent together had all been a figment of my imagination. My heart ached terribly, and my hands and feet felt cold. Amid the chaos of the pack, the shewolf shoved me hard. The back of my head slammed against the edge of the stone coffin. When I regained consciousness, I had returned to the marking ceremony thirty years ago. "Evelyn, will you form a mate bond with Eric?" I stared silently at the shy and nervous Eric standing before me. "No," I said.

My family's driver, Marco, always brought his girlfriend along when he drove me. I put up with it. His dead father took a bullet for my family once. Until today. I opened the door of my custom bulletproof Cadillac. Someone wrote on the inside of the window in red lipstick: "Stay away from my man, bitch." I wiped the smudge off with a tissue. "What is this?" I asked, my voice dead. Crystal sat in the passenger seat. She glared at me like I was poison. "Can't you read?" she spat. "Stay away from my man, you parasite. Buy your own car, you broke bitch." I watched this circus. I said nothing. Marco rushed to my side. He whispered frantically: "Aurora, she doesn't know I'm just a driver. She thinks... she thinks the whole family business is mine. She loves the power. Please." Then came the ultimate betrayal. "I need to take her to Fifth Avenue first. I'll come back for you later." He drove off in my car. He left me in the dust. I stood there and scoffed. I called Cassian, my brother's top enforcer. "Someone stole my car. And my patience is gone. Find them. I want them alive."

At our seventh anniversary gala, my husband, Alexander Rossetti, had gifted me the city's one of a kind Rose Manor. I was kissing Alexander. That's when his Capo, Romeo, stepped up with his wine glass, lowering his voice in pure Sicilian dialect with a teasing grin: "Don, the Jasmine Manor for Elena's all settled, identical to the one you gave to Donna." Alexander let out a chuckle. He shot back in Sicilian, casual as ever: "What can I say? She begged me in bed, said she wanted the same thing as her sister. " He kissed my cheek as he spoke, gazing at me with all the warmth in the world, while telling his men: "Don't say her name. If my Donna finds out, we're all in deep shit." His men exchanged knowing smirks, raised their glasses to him, and swore up and down they'd keep their mouths shut. He kissed my cheek, and didn't notice my smile had frozen solid. Maybe Alexander was too smug. He forgot one thing. My grandmother came from one of the oldest families in Sicily. I understood every single word they said. Fireworks burst overhead. Alexander said: "I love you, Olivia. We'll be together forever." I hugged him back, but behind his back, I pulled out my phone, opened the weapons research invitation that Santoro Institute had sent me days ago, and hit "Accept." Three days from now, I would vanish from his world completely.

I am the only godmother in the underworld who has been divorced three times. The first divorce happened because Andre's childhood sweetheart, Alice, returned. He told me: "Rachel, she and I once swore before God that neither of us would marry anyone else while the other was still single." The second time was because Alice fell into depression. He stroked my hair and said: "Alice is the daughter of a man who made great contributions to the family. She needs me more right now. Don't make this difficult for me." Again and again, I was forced to leave the home Andre and I shared. Until the third time, Alice deliberately damaged my car's brakes to threaten me with divorce. I personally handed him the divorce papers with my signature already on them. Andre praised me for being understanding and began planning an even grander wedding ceremony to remarry me. What he didn't know was, this time, I would never come back.

On the night before the Moretti succession ceremony, I found a post in the Confessional of the Dead that had been sent from ten years in the future. “If you could rewrite your blood oath, whom would you erase from the family tree?” The anonymous reply read: “Leon Vita.” “If not for that adopted son who used a life-debt to secure his place—a man destined to become my husband and consigliere—I could have had Matteo at my side years ago.” The poster’s icon was a black iris. Viola Moretti had used it as her private seal for seventeen years. I stared at the profile of a Viola ten years older than the woman I knew, and all warmth slowly drained from my fingers. Every time she had laced her fingers through mine in front of the elders, she had been thinking about how to break free of me. Every time she had said, “The family needs you,” she had never meant, “I need you.” I removed the obsidian ring from my right hand and placed it beside the succession contract. Then I signed the departure agreement offered by the North Sea Mercantile Association. If she saw me as a blood debt she could never repay— then I would grant her one last freedom and settle that debt for good.

After a campaign for the pack, I was gravely wounded, and rogues ambushed me on the way home. Dozens of rogues surrounded me, slashing wound after wound across my body. Meanwhile, my mate, the captain of the pack guard, had dropped everything to go to her first love, who was about to drink wolfsbane. In my past life, I sent her a mind-link, begging her to bring the guards and save me. She abandoned her first love, and I survived because of it. But by the time Vivian reached Gavin Cross's home, her first love had already drunk the wolfsbane and stopped breathing. Yet Vivian never blamed me, and we went on living happily together. Three years later, on my way back from my second campaign, rogues cornered me again. The one leading them was my own mate. "You lied to me that day, didn't you? You're an Alpha. There's no way you couldn't beat a band of rogues. But you were so jealous of Gavin that you forced me to your side, and I let him swallow wolfsbane and die in agony." "Today I want to see for myself whether one Alpha can really beat this many rogues." I fought for my life, but their claws were coated with wolfsbane, and in the end I died under them. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the rogues first attacked me. This time, I decided to step aside and let her go save her first love.

My seventh year with Luca Bellini coincided with the launch of the Santa Lucia. The South Docks were packed with Bellini relatives, district bosses, and merchants who did business with the Family. Everyone knew I had been by Luca's side from the days when he was just a small-time enforcer collecting protection money at the fish market, all the way to his rise as head of the South Docks. Everyone assumed the launch of this new ship would finally make my place at his side official. Luca stood before the gleaming black hull and raised his glass with a smile. "I've had my eye on this ship for three months. Years ago, I made a girl a promise. Today, I'm giving her the ship and keeping that promise." I clutched the Family silver ring I had just taken from the safe, my heart pounding so hard I could barely hear the ceremonial cannon fire. He had never told me he was going to announce our engagement today, but I had been by his side since I was eighteen. I'd helped him check his first set of off-the-books ledgers, negotiate the deal for his first beachfront hotel, and survive more close calls than I could count over those seven years. Wasn't this the moment I'd been waiting for? Luca took the silver key from the host and looked at the crowd. I had barely stepped forward when Sophia Costa, dressed in white, rushed into his arms and took the key from him. She was the girl Luca had loved when he was young but could never have. She was the only daughter of one of the Family's longtime advisers. Two weeks ago, the heir of a wealthy East Coast businessman had dumped her, and she'd returned to Gray Harbor. Luca put an arm around her as the crowd toasted them. He glanced at me for a moment, then looked away as if I were just another bookkeeper. I stared at the ship's reflection on the water and laughed. Then I texted my mother, "You said Matteo from the Ricci shipyard wanted to meet me. Tell him I said yes."

On the day of my coming-of-age ceremony, the two men who cherish me above all else are absent. One is Vittorio Luciano, the only son of the Luciano family from the east, while the other is Carlos Gambino, the heir to the Gambino family from the south. This is a matter that could easily be settled with a few words, yet they try to think up all sorts of excuses to brush me off. "Anna, a gunfight has broken out at the port to the north, so I really can't step away." "I have to hold a family meeting with the elders. I can't skip it." However, the two men have barely hung up on me when I see them appear beside my adopted younger sister, Liliana Siciliano, at her coming-of-age ceremony. The two men stand guard, one on either side of Liliana, and anyone can tell that they're treating her like the most precious thing in the world. I look down at my phone, tears dripping onto the screen as I read the coldly indifferent excuses they sent me once again. How very ironic. The protection they once promised me is now all hers. However, what they don't know is that I won't make it past this winter.

After the miscarriage, I became exactly the kind of rational, understanding Mafia wife Cillian had always wanted. When I got into a car accident, I handled it myself instead of calling him. I stopped caring about the scent of other women's perfume on his clothes. Even when I saw him drunk, passionately kissing and tangling with his first love, Zelda, in bed, I simply closed the door for them and walked away. But Cillian wasn't used to it. He bought me expensive jewelry and designer bags, throwing grand birthday parties just to show the world how much in love we were... And I only gave him a polite, practiced smile. Cillian looked at me, confused. "Why have you changed? Are you still mad at me about what happened? What do I have to do for you to forgive me?" I didn't say a word. Because I wasn't mad. I didn't love him anymore, so getting angry felt completely pointless. Besides, I had already filed the divorce papers. In half a month, I’d be leaving Chicago for good.

My little sister was murdered by her kidnappers. I watched it all happen and never said a word about who did it. My mother got on her knees and begged me. I didn't flinch. When my father threatened me with his authority as the Don, I walked away from my place as the Family heir. I moved to a small town down south. Eight years later, I was dying of a terminal illness, and my older sister, Beth Turner, had taken over the Family. Under her, the Turners had become the most powerful mafia family on the East Coast. The first thing she did when she found me was have me dragged back to the Family's tribunal. "Selena Turner, you ungrateful snake. Mia called you her sister for all those years, and you still won't name the kidnapper. "Mia's been dead for years. Don't you feel any guilt at all?!" I was on my knees in the great hall. I couldn't speak. "After all these years, I can finally extract your memories. Today, I'm going to see exactly who you've been protecting. I will avenge Mia." She ordered her men to restrain me and hook up the extractor. On the screen above the banquet hall, a face suddenly appeared. The room erupted into chaos, and Beth's face went deathly pale.

When the three sets of haute couture jewelry necklaces arrived at the manor, Andre was accompanying his adopted sister Alice as she selected a dress for the banquet. Before his assistant could even ask, he had already made his decision. "Let Alice wear one when she appears at the banquet. Keep the other two for her collection." The assistant hesitated and reminded him, "These were chosen by the godmother." Only then did Andre remember. These were the pieces I had prepared for their tenth wedding anniversary celebration next month. But instead of changing his mind, he said, "They don't suit her anyway. Isn't there a complimentary necklace included? Give that one to her." A cheap silver necklace that came as a free gift. That was the only bit of dignity he had given me in ten years. I knew he blamed me because I refused to give up the casino during the family's power struggle, which resulted in Alice being criticized by the elders and losing her chance to become a core member of the family. He had hated me for ten years. And he had wasted ten years of my life. When he was shot and dying, the only thing he asked me was whether I regretted marrying him. In his will, his entire inheritance was still left to Alice. All I received was an abandoned club in a remote town. I let go of his hand and walked away. The moment I opened the door, I returned to ten years earlier. It was still that engagement party that had drawn the attention of the entire family. The priest threw the family ring into the sea. "Whoever retrieves it first will become the godmother." In my previous life, I had jumped into the ocean without hesitation and nearly frozen to death. But this time, I watched the ring sink beneath the waves. Then I turned around and walked away.

After I moved into my new apartment, my neighbor, Bianca Ferraro, started showing up at my door every evening for a free meal. I lived alone and always cooked more than I needed. For the sake of keeping the peace, I did not mind sharing. That changed one workday at 3:00 am, when someone pounded on my door and yelled, "Open up! My boyfriend's waiting at the bar downstairs. Make me a cheese platter and open a bottle of red wine. I need to bring it down." I opened the door, still half-asleep, and stared at Bianca standing in the hallway. "You're serious?" She rolled her eyes. "Don't act like it's such a big deal. It won't even take you that long." My temples throbbed. "I'm not your personal chef. Why would I make you food at 3:00 am?" Instead of apologizing, she crossed her arms and scoffed. "No wonder you're still single. You can't even do someone a small favor. What guy would put up with someone like you? “My boyfriend's the most powerful mafia boss around here. One phone call from me and you won't be living on this street anymore." Well. She clearly had no idea that I was the Principessa of this city's most powerful mafia family. Never mind the apartment, the entire street belonged to me.

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.

After Damian abandoned Noah and me for Sofia and Luca yet again, we finally learned to stop asking. He took them to family dinners and interviews, even let Luca sit in the seat that had always belonged to Noah. I stopped arguing. So did Noah. He gave the gold pistol that marked Noah as his heir to Luca as a birthday gift, and Noah simply nodded obediently and wished Luca a happy birthday. Three days later, Noah fell down the stairs and struck his head against a step. He lost consciousness and was taken to the hospital with a mild concussion. Damian arrived after I had already spent the night outside the emergency room. “Elena, why didn’t you call me? I’m Noah’s father too.” “It’s nothing serious. He’ll be discharged after two days of observation. I knew you were busy. Noah understands.” Damian’s expression darkened. “A concussion is nothing serious? What kind of mother are you? If you’re angry with me, say it. Don’t pretend you don’t care and drag our son into it.” I nodded. “Okay. I understand.” He stared at me, probably waiting for the argument I would have started before. I didn’t. Our plane tickets were booked for five days later. Once I took Noah away from New York, none of this would matter anymore.

I came back from picking up takeout to find the fingerprint lock on our front door wouldn't recognize me. The passcode had been changed too. I was about to call my boyfriend Lawrence when I remembered he'd just broken up with me. I looked down at myself, wearing nothing but loungewear and slippers, a coffee stain splashed across my shirt. After a moment's thought, I caved again and sent Lawrence an apology. But the red exclamation mark beside it told me he'd already blocked me. This was the ninth time he'd broken up with me, and the ninth time he'd blocked me. I wanted to knock, but my hand rose only to hang in the air for a few seconds before dropping limply to my side. That closed door might as well have shut out my love along with it. Too many breakups. I was tired. Maybe it was time to let it end. Give him what he wanted, and set myself free.