Tragic Love Short Stories & Mafia Regret Novels

On graduation day, I caught Julian—the boy who had been my shadow for twelve years—pinning another woman against the wall, kissing her hard. His hand smacked her ass before he scooped her up and carried her into the hotel. When my call interrupted him, he just hung up impatiently and texted back: "Aria, stop playing the fragile little girl with your panic attacks. I'm not your babysitter anymore." "I'm the next in line for the Valerius family. I have real business to handle. I don't have the energy to be your nanny." Then, he coldly sent me a link to some newly developed AI personal assistant app. "If you're that lonely, go chat with the AI. It's way more useful than you clinging to me every day." I stood frozen, tears streaming down my face. A suffocating wave of heartbreak and loss swallowed me whole. My parents died saving his parents—the current Don and Donna of the Valerius Family. We grew up together. He took care of me for twelve years. I always thought he loved me. I even thought we'd get married one day. But now, I was just a burden. An annoyance. Watching his back disappear into the hotel lobby, I numbly downloaded the app. "What color should I wear to the graduation party?" "Burgundy. It complements your pale skin and hugs your curves perfectly." "I want to change up my jewelry too..." "You have beautiful collarbones. You don't need anything complicated. A minimalist platinum necklace would be perfect." "Where should I go for my solo graduation trip?" "Your private account shows a love for the Mediterranean. Go to the Amalfi Coast. The sun will look good on you." "Okay. I'll listen to you." Wait. Something was wrong. Why would an AI app know about my secret Instagram account?

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 mother, Vivienne Freeman, was the Donna of Freeman Family. She had her senior engineers develop an advanced lie detector. It looked like a bracelet, and my sister and I each wore one. Whenever I lied, my band flashed red. It could supposedly catch me even when I merely thought about lying. From then on, the band seemed able to read my mind. Even when I kept my mouth shut, it still flashed red. Then Mom would find some way to punish me. I told her countless times that I had never lied, but she refused to believe me. She would not let me question technology she had personally approved. Pointing to my sister's dark band, she demanded to know why it never flashed and why I never told the truth. The day the Family caught a traitor, Mom took my sister and me to watch his execution. A gunshot rang out, and blood spread across the ground. The sight of it made me feel faint, so I begged Mom to let me leave. My band flashed red. My sister picked up a gun and smiled at me. "Mom, Sophie's band is flashing again. She must be figuring out how to deceive you!" Mom glared at me and forced the gun into my hand. "You're the Don's daughter, yet you're a coward, you're frail, and you lie. You don't deserve to be my daughter. Take the gun and shoot him!" The blood made it hard to breathe. My heart raced, strength drained from my body, and I began to suffocate. Even as I started to collapse, Mom kept accusing me of being a coward compared with my sister and a shameless liar. The world spun. Tears ran down my face as pain racked my body. Mom, I never once lied to you, not aloud and not in my thoughts. I never will.

On the yacht heading to an island for our wedding, the lower deck suddenly comes under attack by a rival mafia family. A shrill alarm rings across the sea as the yacht tilts violently, sending me crashing against the deck. I press one hand against my barely visible pregnant belly and cling to the railing with the other. Thankfully, I manage to stop myself from going overboard. But my fiance, Don Arturo Venturi, immediately pulls Elena Donati into his arms. With the yacht about to sink, the Soldati shout for everyone to put on life jackets and jump overboard, then swim to the lifeboats. I finally get my hands on the last life jacket, only for Arturo to snatch it away. He puts it on Elena and quickly explains, "Elena can't swim. She needs it more." I have no choice but to cling to a flotation device and fight to stay afloat until a Soldato pulls me from the water. The disappointment weighs so heavily on my chest that I can't even cry. Once I reach the dock, I slip into the crowd and block Arturo on every form of contact.

Raffaele Moretti, the Mafia Don, once made me a promise. If I proposed to him fifty-one times on livestream for the whole world to see, he would show up for the fifty-second and finally make our relationship public. But when the night of my fifty-second proposal came, Raffaele was in the Maldives with his childhood sweetheart, Gianna. He bought her an entire yacht just to put a smile back on her face. I became the laughingstock of the internet. Later, he sent me an apologetic message. “Gianna was upset. I only went with her because she needed a change of scenery. That's why I missed it. Don't read too much into this.” “I'll say yes when you propose for the fifty-third time. Then you'll be my Donna.” Sure enough, he arrived at my fifty-third livestream in a perfectly tailored suit. And as he watched, I set fire to all fifty-two letters I had written asking him to marry me. Hidden among them was my liver cancer diagnosis. "There won't be a fifty-third chance, Raffaele." Because in a matter of days, I would be dead.

Every Thanksgiving, my husband, Salvatore, brings home a showgirl from one of his clubs. He makes me kneel and serve them drinks. A lesson, he calls it, in how to please a man. This was the eighth Thanksgiving, and this time, he brought back a girl poured into a tight leather dress. "She doesn't have any decent jewelry," Salvatore announced. "Give her your heirloom diamond ring. Your grandmother's pearl earrings, too. And take off that silk choker for her." He smirked. "And listen, she's young, doesn't know the rules. You'll have to show her the ropes. Especially how to handle a man in bed." Every member of the Genovese family was watching, waiting for my humiliation. I didn't disappoint. I opened my mouth and asked Salvatore for a divorce. Salvatore let out a sharp, ugly laugh, his eyes full of contempt. "Francesca, you pull this same shit every time," he jeered. "Your act is pathetic. Even more dramatic than your performance in bed." He leaned in. "You really want to divorce me? Fine. I'll give you five million in cash if you actually walk out that door." The living room erupted in laughter. They all said I was playing hard to get, that I didn't know my place. But they didn't know. This was the 88th time I had asked for a divorce, and it was the first time I truly meant it.

I died five years ago. Now my husband, the Don of our Mafia family, wants me to take the fall for his sister again—this time for accidentally killing a British noble's heir during an arms deal. He's holding a fake confession letter with my forged signature, storming into my old apartment in the rust district, only to find it empty. Frustrated, he grabs the corner store owner downstairs, demanding to know where I am. The owner pauses, wiping his hands on his apron, calmly tells him: "Serafine? She died five years ago." "Heard it was retaliation from a rival family during the gang war. They ambushed her in an alley... shot her over a dozen times. She died immediately." My husband, Lucien, refuses to believe it. Convinced the owner is on my payroll, hiding me to help me escape his reach. He scoffs, his eyes filled with scorn: "Oh, so what? Because I called her out for messing up that last job, now she's throwing a tantrum?" "You tell her, if she doesn't come back and take the fall in three days, I'll revoke her grandmother's 'special family protection'! Let the old woman rot!" With that, he storms out, his rage still simmering. The owner watches him leave and sighs, shaking his head. "There's no grandmother left to protect... That woman passed away not long after Serafine did... couldn't survive the winter without our family's medical supplies and protection..."

It took me ten years to become the right hand to Damian Costello, the Consigliere of the Costello crime family. From a nobody to the woman wearing his engagement ring. But two weeks before the wedding, I decided to throw that ring away. Everyone in the family knew how hard I had fought all these years just to stand by Damian's side. I gave up the chance to become a top trader on Wall Street, willingly becoming Damian's assistant, his shadow. This man was infamous for his coldness and exacting nature, keeping everyone at arm's length. So I hid my sharp edges, spending a decade wearing down his icy exterior with gentleness. I cleansed the blood from every dollar he made. I became a necessity to him, as essential as the air he breathed. I thought that after ten years, I had finally made my presence indispensable. And finally earned what looked, to outsiders, like a glimmer of his affection. The family's notoriously aloof genius actually remembered my birthday. He even made an exception, letting me spend the night in his private study when I was unwell. He didn't even push me away when, emboldened by wine, I pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. If the Don's daughter, Isabella, hadn't returned from Italy, I might have kept playing my part, clinging to that false dream forever. But sadly, there are no ‘ifs’. I am going to give up everything here and leave you.

After my older sister, Aurora Moretti, flees her wedding, I'm forced to marry Damon Rovelli, the Don of the Rovelli family, whose name strikes terror into the hearts of everyone. However, seven years later, Aurora makes a high-profile return home. At the family banquet, she wraps her arms around Damon's neck and plants a passionate kiss on his lips in full view of everyone. Damon stands there, frozen in shock, while Aurora turns to me with a challenging, provocative gaze. "Liliana, you've stolen the Donna position from me for too long. It's high time you give it back to me." For a moment, nobody dares to breathe. Everyone vividly remembers how Damon had turned all of Sivilly upside down when she ran away from the wedding years ago. He left a trail of blood and chaos in his wake as he desperately searched for her. Yet this time, when I voluntarily step aside and relinquish the title of the Donna of the Rovelli family, it is Damon who comes to regret everything.

On our seventh anniversary, Damon, the Don of the Voss family, turned what should have been our wedding into a divorce ceremony for the seventh time. I did not scream or break down sobbing. I only stood in the middle of the hall like a clown while his friends laughed at me. "Evelyn, why aren't you laughing? Don't tell us you're actually mad." Damon came over with a frown and gently wiped the tears from my face. "Evelyn, stop crying." "I promise. This is the last time I'll make a joke like this." I looked at him and suddenly remembered what I had overheard outside his study the night before. "Don, this is the seventh time you've made a fool of Evelyn. Aren't you afraid she'll leave?" Damon was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. "She won't." "Everyone knows Evelyn can't live without me." "Selene once took a bullet for me. Her health has been poor ever since." "She wanted to see Evelyn fooled seven times. I'm only granting her one last wish." "After this, I'll marry Evelyn properly and make her my Donna. I'll give her the grandest wedding as compensation." I had already been humiliated seven times. No matter how deeply I had loved him, no heart could survive being worn down like that. Damon did not know I was the hidden heir of the Hale family. I had never cared about his title as Don. In three days, I would return to my family and accept the marriage alliance.

My father called me to his study to deliver an order. I, Victoria Castellano, was to take my illegitimate half-sister Isabella’s place, to marry the comatose heir of the rival Moretti family and secure a truce. I didn’t cry. I laid my kid gloves on his polished desk and made my three demands. Sever all ties. My mother’s entire legacy. And give my bodyguard, Nicholas, to Isabella. Everyone knew my obsession with him. I loved him until I overheard the truth. He was the hidden Rossi heir, undercover only to protect his precious Isabella. Every time he’d saved my life, he was just guarding his link to her. So I let him go. I won’t tell him I’m marrying someone else. And I’ll never tell him that three years ago, in Lake Tahoe’s freezing depths, the lips that breathed life back into a drowning man—the memory that haunts him—weren’t Isabella’s. They were mine.

In New York’s underworld, my name topped every do-not-cross list. My husband, Don Dante Russo, ruled the most powerful Mafia family on the East Coast. My father ruled the second. Once, they wiped out an entire family overnight for threatening me. But when I was six months pregnant, I received a video. It showed a family portrait session. My pregnant half sister, Bianca, stood beside my husband Dante while he carefully supported her waist. My father stood with them, smiling at the camera. A message from Bianca followed. My mother took your father. Now I’ve taken your husband. I didn’t cry or make a scene. I walked out of the clinic and made one call. “In seven days, I need a new identity and a flight no one can trace.” My father and husband had both betrayed me. I wanted nothing to do with a love so tainted by lies. But after I left, regret drove them both mad.

On my way to a negotiation at a safehouse, my convoy was ambushed by the Castellano family. Bullets went into my shoulder and my side, and blood soaked through my black tactical coat. Riccardo Ferrante reached the firefight with his men. His eyes passed straight over me, ignoring the blood that covered my body. He picked up Loredana Ferrante, whose face had gone white, and carried her toward the private helicopter waiting a short way off. The medic riding with them hurried forward to stop him. "Don Ferrante, Miss Valeria Santoro's taken multiple rounds. She needs a hospital now." Riccardo didn't break stride. His voice was flat. "A few scratches won't kill her. Patch her up and that'll do. "Loredana frightens easily and her heart is weak. I have to get her out first." The cabin door swung slowly shut. From beginning to end, Riccardo never once looked at me. When the shooting started, I was the one who curled around the agreement, and that's why the bullets tore into me. I put my own life up to hold his family's future in place. He gave the chance to live to another woman. A love where one person gives everything and never gets anything back. Is there any point in holding on?

I was diagnosed with kidney disease. My wife, Serene Warner, an heiress from high society, broke down in tears from worry. She did everything she could to find a donor for me. However, just as the doctor handed her the consent form, she hesitated. "Keith's treatment can't be delayed any longer. This donor kidney is compatible with him too. Can you find another matching kidney?" she asked. With a troubled look on his face, the doctor replied, "Ms. Warner, that would be rather hard. Perhaps…" Before he could finish, her daughter spoke up and decided my fate. "Of course, the kidney is going to Keith. Dad is old and a nag. He doesn't even look like me. I don't want it to go to him." Serene gently smacked Tina on the back of her head, but what she said next was just as chilling. "Joseph, Keith studied abroad. He'll contribute a lot to the Warners and this society…" Without saying a word, I looked down at my wedding ring. My heart had grown numb long ago. That was because I had already gone through this. In my last life, this was when I shouted at her, despite having always been a gentle soul. "What about all the sacrifices I made to take care of you two in the past eight years? I'm clearly ahead of him in the list. It should be mine! Why him?" But without question, a poor teacher like me stood no chance against the rich and powerful. In the end, out of guilt, Serene stayed by my side day and night. She reminisced with me about the past, but not even she realized that the memories she spoke of did not belong to us. I slowly faded away. This time, I would not fight her. I would not trouble her anymore. "Alright."

I took a bullet meant for my uncle, Don Matteo Doria. His mother, Maria Doria, was so moved by what I'd done that she suggested I marry Matteo. But when I woke in the ICU, I learned he was about to get engaged to a young starlet, Claire Russo. When I showed up at their engagement party, every guest expected me to cause a scene. After all, I was the girl the Doria family had spoiled rotten. Matteo ordered his men to protect Claire, then pointed his gun at me. "Vivian, Claire is my old friend's daughter. I won't let you hurt her." Instead, I handed Claire a gift. "I was immature before. This is a little welcome gift for you, Claire." The room went dead silent. Matteo slowly lowered his gun, his eyes full of surprise. I smiled at Matteo and pretended I was fine, even as the pain tore at my heart. "Since you're marrying someone else, give me back the necklace my father left me. "From now on, I'll stay out of your life." In my last life, I caused a huge scene at the engagement party and used Maria's promise to force Matteo to marry me. Without his protection, Claire was murdered by people who were after her parents' inheritance. For the next three years, Matteo kept me locked away on his empty estate while he drowned in grief over Claire's death. Even when I got into a car accident on the way to the hospital and lost the baby, he never came to see me once. Now that I'd been given a second chance, I knew better. I would never chase after Matteo's love again.

After ten years’ being in love with Don Bianco, I finally got the chance to take wedding photos with him. My best friend Amy, who facilitated our engagement, also came to help us. When Amy was dressed in her tailored bridesmaid dress, I saw a clear astonishment in Bianco’s eyes. Amy advised to take a photo together as a commemoration, As I stood in my wedding dress as the central one, Amy laughed at herself: “I look like a maid.” Immediately, Bianco dragged me to the edge, leaving the highlight to Amy. The flash lit up, they were the perfect match. When choosing the photos, Bianco required the photographer pick the one with me on the edge as the welcome poster for our wedding. I questioned Bianco: “Why should the middle of our wedding poster be left to another woman?” Bianco glanced at me with a dismissive smile: “You’ll be Donna anyway, sweetheart. Stop being jealous.” “Without Amy, we couldn’t have taken the photo. Picking this one shows our gratitude.” Staring at the photo, I found myself dressed up to the nines, but looked like a stranger. Even standing in the position, I couldn’t own it. I didn’t want to be in the middle anymore.

My husband, Adriano Moretti, the Don of the Moretti famiglia, brings a three-year-old boy back to the estate. Adriano's mother, Vittoria Moretti, calls for a family meeting. In front of all the core members, she announces that the boy will be raised by me. She says he is the only surviving bloodline of her late eldest son, Luca Moretti. Vittoria says, "It's very chaotic out there right now. His birth mother can't protect him. Lucrezia, if you don't take him in, he won't survive the winter in Sezarro." My heart goes out to the little boy, and I take him in. In the next seven years, I personally raise Antonino into the finest child in the Moretti famiglia. I tell Adriano I want a child of our own. However, he keeps coming up with the same excuse. "Antonino is Luca's only son. I'm afraid that if we have a child, he'll feel like we don't love him anymore. We can have our own child once he's old enough to understand. There's no rush." Thinking about all the hardships Antonino has endured since childhood, I feel sorry for him too and never bring it up again. When Antonino is ten, he has a sudden asthma attack that lands him in the hospital. When I arrive outside his room at the private hospital, I hear Vittoria say, "Lucrezia doesn't have a child of her own yet. With Antonino by her side all these years, she got to experience being a mother. "But if she finds out Antonino is your biological son, will she still devote all her resources and energy to raising him?" Adriano remains silent. That night, I go to the Moretti famiglia's archives alone. After searching for a long time, I finally find Antonino's birth records that are hidden away. On his birth certificate, I see the name written under the birth father column—Adriano Moretti. It turns out that the child I've been raising for seven years as the orphaned son of Adriano's deceased brother is actually his illegitimate child all along. Seven years ago, I brought that child into the Moretti famiglia. Seven years later, I cross my own name off the family registry and walk out of the Moretti estate alone.

My husband, Rafael Vescari, was the most feared Don in the city. Men lowered their eyes when he entered a room, and women knew better than to touch him. But when it came to me, Rafael had always been different. Especially after I became pregnant with his child. He hated other men looking at me. He hated me talking to them. Lately, he barely let me out of his sight. I only spoke to another man for three minutes at the gala. That was enough to make Rafael furious. He couldn't punish me the way he normally would. So he chose another weapon. Jealousy. He brushed a strand of hair from Sloane’s face while making sure I was watching. He drove her home even though she lived only a few blocks away, and he answered every message she sent while leaving mine unread. At first, I dismissed it as a childish game between lovers. I chased after him, asked him to stop, and believed he would eventually grow tired of it. It wasn’t until I was in a car accident that I realized I was wrong. While I lay unconscious and bleeding, the hospital called Rafael. The surgeon warned him that our baby was losing oxygen and asked him to come immediately. Rafael stayed with Sloane, whose injured wrist needed only a few stitches. “Elodie is using the baby to get my attention. Tell her I’ll come when she apologizes.” He hung up. Hours later, Rafael finally reached the hospital. The surgeon met him outside the operating room. “Your wife survived. The baby didn’t.” I watched the color drain from his face and removed my wedding ring. “Our son is gone.” “And I don’t want you anymore.”

My childhood friend promised to marry me once we came of age — but at my wedding ceremony, he gave my wedding ring to my stepsister, Summer Hugh. At the time, it was Victor Lowell, the fearsome mafia heir, who saved me by publicly announcing he had loved me for years. In the five years we had been married, he would fulfill every wish I had, even those I mentioned offhand. I truly believed I was the center of his world. All that changed when I stumbled across a top-secret folder as I was cleaning his bookshelf. The very first page was a file on Summer, with three red words printed in bold, “Top protection priority.” It was followed by a mission report I knew too well. On the night of the mission, there had been an attempt on my life. My blood had almost run dry before I was saved. When I woke up at the hospital, I found out that I had lost a baby I did not know I had been carrying. I wept bitterly in Victor’s arms, but I did not tell him about the baby. I did not want him to worry about me more. Now, I finally found out — Summer had been attacked that night as well, and Victor’s orders had been: “Save Summer first.” My tears soaked into the paper, smudging his handwriting. “Alright,” I said softly but firmly into the silence. “If my marriage had been a lie all along, I’ll disappear from your life. Forever.”

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.